Chapter 1: The Phantom's War
The sky burned red as fire swallowed the horizon. Explosions thundered in the distance, shaking the very foundation of the battlefield. Smoke and death choked the air.
In the heart of it all, he stood, watching from the shadows.
Draped in black, his face hidden behind an emotionless mask, he observed the chaos unfold from a secure vantage point. His men moved like ghosts, executing plans with ruthless efficiency. No names, no insignias—only purpose.
The Hidden Mist and Hidden Cloud were locked in a brutal clash, neither realizing they were mere pawns in a far greater game.
He had orchestrated this war.
And yet, no one knew he existed.
A whisper on the wind. A phantom in the dark.
"Commander," a voice crackled through the comm device in his ear—his invention, one of many. "The Mist forces are falling back. The Cloud shinobi are pressing forward."
As expected. He had manipulated both sides into conflict, planting rumors, forging intelligence, ensuring that neither suspected the true enemy lurking beyond the battlefield.
A chessboard where he alone controlled the pieces.
His voice was calm, measured. "Deploy Phase Two."
A single order, and within moments, the battlefield shifted.
Hidden traps detonated, releasing thick clouds of hallucinogenic gas. Enemies turned on allies, driven mad by visions of horror. Specially crafted incendiary devices ignited, swallowing entire squads in flames. A virus, undetectable yet deadly, had already begun to spread among the wounded.
The perfect storm.
A commander would have called this victory.
He called it a test.
Because this was only data.
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Flashback: Years Earlier
He woke up to the stench of death. A battlefield littered with corpses. The Third Great Ninja War had already begun.
He had no chakra, no bloodline, no superhuman strength.
But he had something far more dangerous.
His mind.
And that was enough.
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