To live, one must find a goal, whether short-term or long-term, otherwise, one becomes a mere walking corpse, a complete and utter waste of space.
The problem, however, is that in the real world, effort and sacrifice do not always guarantee a visible return. Consequently, most people lose their drive over time as they face the stagnation of a life without rewards.
This is exactly why so many people lose themselves in the world of games. No matter the genre, a game always provides the player with immediate feedback. Kill a monster or complete a quest, and your experience points manifest instantly, allowing every player to see exactly how much closer their character is to the next level.
Unfortunately, the real world offers no such instant feedback, and experience points remain invisible. Everything must be learned and accumulated bit by bit. Until one finds a suitable opponent to test their mettle against, even the learner remains unsure of where their true level lies.
Without a doubt, Kabuto Yakushi was currently in such a state.
Between the integration of Orochimaru's cells, the Ryūchi Cave Sage Mode, and the Nen abilities he had been secretly developing behind everyone's backs, his strength had ballooned rapidly following Orochimaru's death. This newfound power had even begun to foster small, private ambitions.
Having started his career as a spy, Kabuto was more sensitive than most. He could sense that the Akatsuki was not led solely by Pain, as he had initially imagined. On the contrary, there were two distinct factions within the organization.
One was led by the nominal leader, Pain. The other consisted of Black Zetsu and the man claiming to be Madara Uchiha. Though the two factions appeared to share the same goal, Kabuto always felt that Black Zetsu's words carried hidden implications.
"The Akatsuki is definitely hiding some unspeakable secrets..." Kabuto muttered to himself, stroking his chin as he emerged from the secret chamber in a fresh change of clothes.
The more he understood these dangerous individuals, the more he realized why Orochimaru had been so wary of the Akatsuki, even avoiding direct confrontation with them.
Just as he was pondering how to extract more information during their next meeting, a dark figure suddenly rose from the ground. It was Black Zetsu, who had been missing for some time.
The two stared at each other for a few seconds before Kabuto broke the silence. "Is there a mission?"
"Yes. We need you to use the Reanimation Jutsu to resurrect someone," Black Zetsu stated bluntly.
"Who?"
Kabuto was a sharp man; he instantly realized this person's identity must be extraordinary if Black Zetsu had come in person.
"Don't ask too many questions. Just be prepared. Furthermore, for this Reanimation, there is no need to insert a control talisman," Black Zetsu added, laying out all the requirements at once.
He needed a Madara with his own consciousness, not a controlled puppet.
"Understood," Kabuto agreed without a second thought.
As one of the only two people left in the shinobi world who mastered the Reanimation Jutsu, he knew full well that Black Zetsu was trying to circumvent and guard against Allen. This also served as further proof that his previous deduction was correct: the Akatsuki was not a monolithic entity, and both sides had their own agendas.
Just as Black Zetsu was about to say more, a deafening roar erupted from the area in the Hidden Sound Village dedicated to forging and repairing shinobi tools.
A massive amount of dust fell from the ceiling. Shinobi and members of the Resistance, there for training and body modifications, rushed out from their quarters, desperate to find out what had happened.
Fortunately, the noise was short-lived, vanishing without a trace in less than ten seconds.
Immediately after, a security shinobi appeared out of thin air, kneeling as he reported, "Kabuto-sama, it wasn't an external attack. The commotion was caused by the swordsmith from the Land of Iron. However, since you ordered that no one should approach him, we couldn't confirm the details. We can only verify from a distance that there are no casualties."
"The swordsmith?" A strange light flickered in Kabuto's eyes.
"Yes! And... Allen-sama has also appeared there," the shinobi reported truthfully.
…
On the other side, amidst a pile of collapsed ruins, the middle-aged man in his fifties was cradling a straight-bladed sword. The weapon was a vibrant, fiery red, radiating a scorching heat into the air. Tears of joy streamed down his face as he laughed and shouted like a madman, "Success! I've finally succeeded in forging a legendary weapon in my lifetime!"
Even though his hands were severely burned by the terrifying temperature of the blade, his heart was filled with pure exhilaration.
"A remarkable achievement. Now, I finally have a weapon capable of slaying gods." Allen took the still-scalding blade from the swordsmith's hands, a satisfied smile appearing on his face.
+ 12 Strength, +12 Stamina, +30 Fire Resistance, and a chance on hit to launch a fireball at the target...
Almost all the attributes of the Sulfuras had been perfectly preserved!
Not only that, but after being infused with a large amount of Chakra-conductive metal, it could produce vastly different effects by channeling different types of Chakra.
For instance, Wind Chakra could enhance its tearing power, while Lightning could cause paralysis. Combined with the empowerment of Nen, even Kaguya would likely find a strike from this blade hard to swallow.
"A... A name! Give it a glorious name!" the swordsmith urged in a voice thick with excitement.
"A name? Let's call it Sulfuras Sword," Allen replied. He wasn't one for ceremony and simply adapted the name of the original legendary hammer, keeping it blunt and direct.
He couldn't be bothered to name his own developed abilities and techniques, let alone a mere weapon.
"Sulfuras? A fine name! And most fitting!" The swordsmith nodded with great relief, seemingly very satisfied.
His gaze was that of a father watching his daughter marry, filled with attachment and reluctance, yet tinged with profound pride.
After playing with it for a few minutes, Allen handed the unsharpened blade back and said meaningfully, "Since you've come this far, I'll leave the sharpening and the crafting of the scabbard and hilt to you as well. I trust you wouldn't want another colleague touching it."
"Hahaha! Of course! It would be my honor. Give me half a month, and I guarantee you will see it in its most perfect, beautiful form."
The swordsmith gently stroked the burning blade, his eyes gleaming with passion. To him, this weapon was the pinnacle of his life's work, perhaps even the most powerful weapon in the entire shinobi world. Even if it cost him his life, he would finish it before he died, ensuring his name as the creator was etched forever upon its hilt.