Year -61
Konoha Village, Uchiha Clan
The sky was crying.
Dark clouds stretched far and wide above the Hidden Leaf Village, and thick rain fell like an endless waterfall. Each drop hit the ground with a soft but steady rhythm. The ground was muddy, and the scent of wet earth mixed with burning incense from nearby. Everything was quiet, except for the sound of rain and the occasional muffled sob from people gathered.
It was a funeral.
People stood silently under black umbrellas and straw hats, their clothes soaked despite efforts to stay dry. But no one cared about the rain. The sadness in the air was far heavier than the weather. They had come to say goodbye to two of their own. A husband and wife. Two proud members of the Uchiha Clan. Two people who would never walk among them again.
They were gone.
Killed.
The story passed around by the higher-ups in the village was that they had been murdered by an assassination squad from the Hidden Cloud Village. Some accepted the explanation. Others did not. The thing that disturbed many hearts was not just the deaths—but how they died.
Their eyes.
Both of them had their Sharingans taken. Gouged out.
Even now, no one could say exactly how it had happened. There was no proof. There was no clear witness. And though many were angry, there wasn't much the village could do. The Cloud Village was at the peak of its strength. They hadn't fought in the Second Ninja War. Their army was fresh. Full of trained soldiers. Meanwhile, Konoha was still healing from old wounds, scars of the war still raw. The village knew it couldn't risk more bloodshed.
And so the truth was buried.
With them.
Standing right in front of the two bodies, resting peacefully in their coffins, was an old man holding tightly onto the small shoulder of a boy. The old man was hunched over slightly, his white hair plastered to his head by the rain. His eyes were red and puffy, but there were no more tears. He had already cried too much.
The boy beside him didn't cry. He didn't speak. He just stared.
He was eight years old.
Their son.
His black hair clung to his skin. His face was pale. His small fists were clenched tight by his sides. His eyes, though, were what everyone was watching. His Sharingan was active. Not just active—but spinning.
The three tomoe in his eyes kept circling, faster and faster, like they were alive. Like a storm. And then something changed.
The tomoe stopped spinning, but instead of fading, they began to move toward each other. They started connecting, forming a new pattern. One that no one around him had ever seen before.
The boy's eyes had changed.
He had awakened the Mangekyou Sharingan.
There was a moment of silence as everyone took a step back, unsure of what they had just witnessed. And then, before anyone could even breathe or speak, a wave of chakra burst from the boy's body.
The old man, his grandfather, was thrown backward. People all around were pushed away as if a violent wind had exploded from the center. Leaves flew. The ground cracked. Some umbrellas were ripped from hands and flew into the air.
And just as suddenly as it happened, it stopped.
The boy's body went limp. His knees buckled.
He fell.
But he didn't hit the muddy ground.
He had lost consciousness before he could even feel the fall.
But where he went next... was not sleep.
He opened his eyes again—or maybe he never closed them. It was hard to tell. He wasn't standing. He wasn't sitting. He wasn't floating. He just was.
All around him was... nothing. And everything.
There was no ground. No sky. No walls. Just endless space. But not empty space. Stars twinkled all around him. Some were big, some small, some moved, some didn't. Gases of different colors swirled like paint in water—blue, red, green, purple, gold. Clouds of light and energy floated by him like slow-moving spirits.
It was beautiful. And terrifying.
He reached out a hand, but there was nothing to touch. He couldn't feel anything. He looked down, but he didn't see his body. Still, he knew he was here. Somehow.
The stars looked so close. If he just moved a little, he could maybe grab them.
He tried.
He moved.
He didn't know how. There were no steps to take, no surface to push from. But when he thought of moving, he did. Slowly, he floated—or maybe glided—through the space.
And then he saw it.
In front of him. A giant pillar.
It stood tall—or maybe it didn't stand at all. It was just there. Not floating. Not moving. Just existing.
It was a cylinder. Tall. Thick. Solid.
But he couldn't see the top. Nor the bottom. It stretched beyond everything. It pierced through clouds, stars, light, and darkness. Like a sword stabbing through reality itself.
The strange thing was, the closer he got to it, the more massive it became. It was already too big to understand—but it kept getting thicker, wider, taller.
Yet… it stayed the same distance from him.
No matter how much he moved.
No matter how close he thought he was.
He couldn't reach it.
The colors of the pillar couldn't be described. Not black. Not white. Not red or green or gold. It was… something else. Something outside of what he knew. Something outside of human understanding.
He tried to blink. He didn't know if he did.
He tried to breathe.
He couldn't.
His mouth opened. His chest didn't move. No air came in. No air came out.
But he wasn't choking. He wasn't suffocating.
So he stopped panicking.
He floated still, eyes staring at the pillar that existed in a place where time had no meaning.
He felt small.
Smaller than he ever did. Smaller than when he was five and got lost in the market. Smaller than when he first saw the Hokage's face carved into the mountain. Smaller than anything.
And yet, deep inside, he felt something.
A connection.
A whisper.
A faint pull.
Like the pillar was waiting.
Waiting for him.
-------------------------------------------
"Are you willing to let it happen, let it slip away? All that happiness, slipping away because of some people's greed? If not, then tell me, do you want power? Do you want strength to change everything, to dominate everything?" A voice boomed in his mind, strong and clear, echoing in every corner of that strange space where the boy now found himself.
The boy was confused. He didn't know where the voice came from, or who it belonged to. It wasn't like any voice he had ever heard before. It was everywhere, but also nowhere. It sounded old and wise, yet strong and full of something he couldn't name. But even though he was confused and surrounded by things he didn't understand, only one question appeared in his mind. It was simple but important. It was something his parents had taught him, something they had always said.
"What do I have to pay?" the boy asked. He didn't even hesitate. He asked calmly, like he had already accepted that nothing came free in life. His parents told him again and again that there was always a price. Nothing in the world was free. If someone gave you something, they wanted something in return, even if it was just the feeling of being good about themselves. Even when people said they were doing something without a reason, deep down, they always had one.
The voice replied, and it was louder than before. "Everything. Your very being, body and soul, will belong to me. You will become my Apostle." The voice was serious, like it was saying something that had happened a thousand times before, something important. The word "Apostle" was strange. The boy didn't know what it meant, but somehow, he felt like he should know. It felt familiar, like something he had forgotten but was always inside him.
This should have scared him. It should have chilled him to the bone. It should have made him turn and run, or scream, or cry. But it didn't. For some unknown reason, he didn't feel fear. He didn't feel like he was in danger. In fact, he was feeling a deep connection to the voice. The same strange but warm connection he felt with the pillar in front of him. That never-ending, colorless pillar that stood tall in the space, so large he couldn't see its beginning or its end.
And the boy... he was ready to give anything. Anything at all, if it meant he could get his mom and dad back. If he could see them smile again, hear their voices again. If he could be with them, even for one more moment. He would do anything. But even so, he still asked, because he wanted to know more.
"I would accept regardless of the answer," the boy said, his voice calm, yet firm. "But please answer me if you can. What would happen to me? And couldn't you do this without my permission?"
The voice answered again, this time a little slower. "You will become my Apostle, an agent if you will, and continue to live your life as you want. You won't be getting any more information. And the reason why... you don't need to know that yet. Plus, yes, I can still make you my Apostle without asking permission. But I still felt like informing." The voice paused, and then said, "Now we begin."
Suddenly, everything changed.
He felt like he was swimming, but not in water. It was something else. Something strange. An ocean made not of water but of energy. That energy was all around him, everywhere. It was pressing against him, flowing into him, and changing him. Bit by bit, it was entering his body—or maybe his soul, or whatever part of him was here. And as it entered, it started to transform him.
It didn't hurt. It wasn't painful. But it was overwhelming, like standing in the middle of a storm that never ended. The energy had no color, yet it felt like it had every color. It had no shape, but it felt solid and heavy. It had no temperature, yet it made his skin tingle and his heart race. It was something that couldn't be explained but could be felt.
Then, in the middle of this ocean of power, a book appeared.
It floated in the air, just in front of him. The book looked old, but also new. It looked dangerous. It gave off an aura that made it feel important. The cover of the book was dark and seemed to be made of something not found in the real world. Symbols and markings he couldn't understand danced across it, glowing faintly.
And then the book opened.
The pages turned by themselves, flipping fast, faster than he could read. Strange letters, strange symbols, strange words started to fly out of the book. They came towards him, faster and faster, until they hit him.
One by one, the symbols entered his head, then his heart, and finally his eyes. At first, it was just a few, and then more came, and more, until he was completely surrounded. The characters didn't make any sense, but he could feel them becoming a part of him. They weren't just going into him. They were becoming him. They were changing his very self, eating away the old and writing something new in its place.
Then everything went black.
He didn't know how long he was out. Time didn't seem to matter here. It could have been seconds, minutes, hours, days. There was no sun, no moon, no clock. Just silence.
Then he opened his eyes.
He groggily opened his eyes, his body feeling heavy. Like he had just woken up from a long, long dream. He slowly looked around, blinking a few times. He was no longer in the space full of stars and clouds. He was lying on the ground, soft, green grass underneath him. It felt warm and real. The air was fresh, and the sky was a soft blue with white clouds lazily floating by.
The view around him was beautiful. There were hills in the distance, trees that danced in the wind, and birds flying far above. A calm lake was in front of him, the water so clear he could see fish swimming in it. Flowers of many colors grew near the water, and the gentle sound of the breeze made everything peaceful.
But he wasn't alone.
Standing nearby, looking at him with curious eyes, was a woman. She had dark skin that seemed to glow softly in the sunlight, and her golden eyes sparkled like little suns. She had long white hair and wore white clothes and golden jewellery. She was like a goddess.
She looked surprised.... curious as well.
"Hi," she said with a smile. Her voice was soft but clear. "My name is Silviya."
Her voice was real. More real than anything he had felt in the last... however long it had been. It grounded him. Made him feel like he had come back to the world again.
The boy didn't know what was going to happen now. He didn't know what kind of place this was, or who Silviya really was. But one thing was for sure—everything had changed. And his story was just beginning