It took roughly two full hours to thoroughly clean all five caves and prepare them for basic habitation. Dust, debris, and the remnants of wildlife had to be cleared away, and each cave needed to be swept, aired out, and assessed for comfort and safety. Though the task was tedious and physically demanding, everyone involved worked with quiet determination, knowing these caves would serve as their temporary homes.
As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting warm orange light over the valley, Renji came running toward Shanks with a bright, excited smile.
"Onii-san! Let's go!" he called, his voice echoing slightly in the valley. "Your cave is ready!"
Shanks turned at the sound, his expression softening. He reached out and ruffled the boy's hair affectionately, a smile tugging at his lips. "Thanks, Renji," he said warmly. "Let's go take a look."
When they arrived, Shanks found his cave simple but functional. A bed had been set up, and his clothes were neatly folded and placed on a large stone slab. The surface of the stone, however, was rough and uneven.
"Renji," Shanks said, "can you pick up my clothes for a moment?"
Renji nodded eagerly and gathered the clothes in his small arms. He was only eight years old, but determined to help.
Shanks unsheathed his sword and swung it in a smooth horizontal arc. The top of the stone slab was sliced cleanly off, revealing a smooth, glistening surface beneath. He nudged the rough-cut piece off with his foot, and it fell to the ground with a dull thud.
Renji watched in awe. "Onii-san," he said, eyes wide, "I want to become a powerful swordsman like you someday!"
Shanks slid his sword smoothly back into its scabbard. The metallic whisper of the blade sheathing echoed faintly in the stone chamber. He turned to Renji and placed a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder.
"You'll definitely become a powerful swordsman one day," Shanks said with quiet confidence. "Just like me. Alright, now you can put my clothes back on the stone."
Renji gave a quick nod and carefully placed the folded clothes back on the smoothed stone surface, taking extra care not to wrinkle them.
At that moment, Erza entered the cave, her arms full of scrolls and heavy books. She carried them with practiced ease and placed the entire stack on top of Shanks's clothes without a second thought.
"Onii-chan," she said, "all these scrolls and books contain knowledge about our clan's sealing techniques, and much more. There's history, chakra theory—everything our elders managed to preserve."
Shanks eyed the stack of books and scrolls with keen interest. He was eager to dive into them immediately to master the one-handed hand sealing technique, but the lack of proper lamps or lanterns forced a delay—only the dim, flickering firelight from branches burning in a makeshift pit near the cave entrance illuminated the space. He would need to wait until better lighting could be arranged.
Before he could respond, Erza spoke again.
"Onii-chan, the food's almost ready. Let's go outside and eat while it's still warm."
Shanks nodded in agreement. He turned and walked out of the cave with Renji and Erza by his side, the cool evening air greeting them as they stepped into the open.
A few minutes later, all the surviving members of the Uzumaki Clan—ten children, seven women, and Shanks—sat gathered around a large bonfire. The flames crackled and danced, casting golden light over tired but grateful faces. The aroma of freshly cooked food wafted through the air, and laughter began to replace the silence that had haunted them for days.
For the first time in what felt like forever, there was peace in their hearts.
No one was fleeing tonight.
No one would travel under cover of darkness.
For now, they had a place to rest—a home, even if only for a few years. And in that moment, under the open sky and the warmth of firelight, it was enough.
After the group had finished their discussions around the fire, Shanks turned to Miki.
"Aunty," he said, his tone calm but firm, "please make a list of all the essentials we need. Tomorrow, I'll go with Erza to Tonika Village to buy everything—vegetables, supplies, whatever we're missing. Don't leave anything out."
Miki nodded thoughtfully. "Alright. First thing in the morning, I'll go through everything we already have, then make a detailed list of what we still need."
"Good," Shanks said, giving her a grateful nod. With that, he rose and made his way back to his cave. One by one, the others followed suit, returning to their assigned shelters for the night, each of them ready to finally rest.
…
Back in the quiet solitude of his cave, Shanks didn't lie down immediately. Instead, he sat cross-legged on the bed, his mind turning to the unique function of the system.
With a deep breath, he closed his eyes and focused. In an instant, his consciousness slipped into his mental space.
There, floating in the vast silence, was the familiar spherical light that represented the system—glowing faintly with pulsating energy. Nearby hovered his character panel, displaying his stats, abilities, and progress.
Shanks opened his eyes within the mental space and addressed the system directly.
"System," he said, his voice echoing slightly in the void, "you told me that I could fight the original character whose template I inherited—the Red-Haired Emperor Shanks. Can you prepare that battle now?"
A moment of silence passed before the system responded, its voice calm and mechanical, yet strangely resonant.
"Request acknowledged. Preparing the simulation."
As soon as the system finished speaking, Shanks's character panel began to distort. Glitches flickered across the interface like static, growing more intense by the second.
And then, emerging from the shifting chaos, a figure stepped out—tall, imposing, and radiating overwhelming strength.
It was him.
Red-Haired Emperor Shanks.
The original.
The man whose name echoed across seas and nations.
Now, standing before him in this mental space—ready to fight him.
Suddenly, a countdown appeared between him and the Red-Haired Emperor Shanks.
10… 9… 8…
Shanks's eyes narrowed. He immediately understood—this was the countdown before the battle would begin. Without hesitation, he drew his sword, tightening his grip as the numbers ticked down.
3… 2… 1… GO.
The Red-Haired Emperor Shanks moved the instant the countdown ended, his strike swift and overwhelming. Shanks raised his blade just in time to block, and with that, the clash of swords began.
Steel rang against steel as the two locked into a whirlwind of slashes, parries, and counters. But it didn't last long.
In just ten moves, Shanks found himself on the losing end—defeated decisively.
Panting, he dropped to one knee, stunned by the gap between them. Even though he possessed the memories of the Red-Haired Emperor, he hadn't yet mastered the ability to fully utilize that level of swordsmanship. The experience was there, but the reflexes, instinct, and battle-forged sharpness were still developing.
The projection of the Red-Haired Emperor paused, then silently returned to his place within the mental domain.
Shanks exhaled slowly and said, "Continue, System."
The system responded without delay. A new countdown began to materialize between the two figures once more.
10… 9… 8…
This time, Shanks steadied his breathing. He focused harder, recalling every detail, every technique embedded in the memories of the legendary swordsman. When the countdown ended again, the duel resumed—more intense than before.
He moved with greater control, each strike more precise, each defense more deliberate. This time, he managed to last fifteen moves before being defeated again.
But he didn't stop.
Again, he said, "Continue."
And again, the system complied.
Five battles in total took place, each one pushing Shanks to his limit. With each match, he learned—adapting, improving, adjusting his timing, his footwork, his grip. But ultimately, he was still defeated every time.
Finally, after the fifth battle, his mental energy gave out. Without warning, the mental space collapsed around him, and he was forcibly ejected from the domain.
Shanks jolted awake in his cave, breathing heavily. A dull ache pulsed in his temples. The strain of prolonged combat in the mental space had clearly taken its toll.
He rubbed his forehead and muttered to himself, "So, it puts pressure on my mental power... Makes sense. It's not just memory—I'm fighting him in a world shaped by my own mind."
Despite the pain, a small, satisfied smile tugged at his lips.
Because even in defeat, he was learning.
And he would keep going—until he stood equal to the legend himself.
----
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