The old Japanese mansion had stood for centuries, its wooden beams soaked in history, its walls painted by countless seasons of sun, rain, and snow. It had witnessed —every color of the sky.

But tonight, it saw a color it had never known before.

Red.

The mansion was aflame. Fire roared through its ancient halls, devouring timber and paper walls that had endured generations. Beams cracked and collapsed with groans like dying men, sparks flying into the night. Beneath the flames, another river ran: thick, scarlet blood crawling across the floors, dripping down the steps, pooling in the earth. The warriors sworn to defend this house lay motionless, their eyes wide and unblinking, reflecting fire they would never escape.

And in the distance, a lone figure stood. Bare-chested, his body a canvas of blood and ash. Claws still extended from his hands, gleaming in the firelight. He faced the inferno, his back to the trail of corpses that had marked his path through the clan's legacy. For the first time since the slaughter began, Jin let his claws retract with a sharp snikt, the sound drowned by the roar of flames.

He turned his head.

To his right, huddled against the courtyard wall, a cluster of survivors—women, elders, and children—pressed together. Their breaths were shallow, their eyes wide with terror. In front of them stood Miwa, her body trembling but her stance firm, sword clenched but sheathed . She was barely standing still, yet her will held her down when her body no longer could.

Jin walked toward them.

Every step echoed like thunder in the terrified silence. Mothers pulled their children behind them. Elders shifted forward, frail bodies trying to shield the women with an illusion of protection. And as Jin closed in, their gazes fell lower and lower, until all they could saw was their feet. No one dared look into his eyes.

No one, except Miwa.

She kept her blade steady, her dark eyes locked on Jin with a mixture of fury and despair.

"You monster." Her voice cracked, but she did not flinch.

Jin's smirk tugged at his lips.

"Don't call me that. Look behind you. I let them live."

Her grip tightened "You butchered the men of this house. You made their wives widows, their children fatherless."

Jin shrugged "That's karma. Your men thought they could come for me, and I wouldn't respond in kind? Actions have consequences, girl."

Miwa's voice rose, trembling with rage. "I will kill you. I'll surpass every sword master. I'll train until I can cut you down myself."

Jin leaned closer, his shadow swallowing hers in the firelight.

"Then try. Come find me when you're ready. Be grateful your teenagers weren't foolish enough to disobey you tonight—otherwise, they'd be ash with the rest."

His eyes scanned the group one last time. Silent sobs shook them, their heads still bowed to the earth. Only Miwa met his gaze, her hatred burning hotter than the fire behind her.

Satisfied, Jin turned.

"Shikaku. Let's go."

From the far wing of the estate, Shikaku emerged, his arms burdened with a heavy chest. Behind him, a jeep waited, its bed already loaded with other sealed chests. He dropped the box onto the pile with a grunt.

"Got what you asked for."

"Good. Then we're done here."

They climbed into the jeep. Behind them, the last unburned building finally caught fire, its roof collapsing with a thunderous roar. The blaze swallowed the entire estate, a beacon of destruction against the night sky.

The road stretched before them, gravel crunching under wheels as the jeep carried them away from the ruin. For a long moment, only the crackle of fire and the hum of the engine filled the silence. Then Shikaku glanced at Jin, his knuckles tightening on the wheel.

"Hey, Jin… If Oishi hadn't told you what you wanted, would you really have killed the women and children?"

Jin turned his head, his expression unreadable.

"Of course not. I lied. By then, Oishi was terrified enough to clutch at any straw I threw him. He would have confessed either way."

Shikaku absorbed that in silence, then ventured another question.

"And what about Miwa? On the train… if she'd attacked you while your heart was pierced—what would've happened?"

Jin leaned back, eyes on the passing night sky.

"She would've had an eighty percent chance of winning. I wasn't lying then. But now?" He smirked. "She'll never get that chance again."

Shikaku frowned.

"And why's that?"

Jin's gaze sharpened. His voice dropped, cold and dismissive.

"You're speaking out of turn."

The weight in his tone shut Shikaku's mouth. He gripped the wheel in silence, swallowing the questions burning at his tongue.

Jin, meanwhile, was lost in thought. He knew something Shikaku didn't. His Wolverine template had finally reached 100% completion. That part of his evolution was finished. And now, it was time to choose the next one.

A translucent interface shimmered before his mind's eye—the Slot Window. A message blinked at the bottom, the text of A.

A: I've decided to alter some functions. On the plus side, you can now select templates from higher tiers. I'll interfere less than before.

But heed this warning: you don't have infinite chances. Choose carefully.

Jin's lip curled.

"Figures. That shitty A changes the rules whenever it suits him. Barely gives me anything as it is."

Still, his mind turned to the choices ahead. So far, his arsenal leaned heavily on close-range combatants. He needed long-range options, versatility—someone who could balance raw power with tactical ability. He couldn't go full mage now ; that wasn't him. He thrived in melee.

But someone who could bridge the gap… someone who could fight up close and bring abilities to the table… That was what he needed.

Jin's fingers hovered over the slot. His thoughts crystallized.

Three names.

Kakashi Hatake [Naruto]

Minato Namikaze [Naruto]

Itachi Uchiha [Naruto]

Surprisingly the window expect the names .

The jeep rolled into the night, the fire of the Manji clan burning far behind. And Jin stared at the glowing names.