Erick stood steady on the water while thick mist swirled around him. The silence was deep until a faint whistling sound cut through the fog.
Dozens of shuriken shot toward him. He didn't hesitate and quickly made the Dog sign with his hands.
He dropped straight into the water and vanished without a ripple. The surface stayed still. One moment he was there, the next he was gone, leaving no trace.
A moment later, the shuriken tore through the spot where he had stood, cutting the mist apart... shutting in the water.
The fog cleared just enough for three figures to appear, each one looking exactly like Erick.
"Damn it… I'm sure he was standing right there."
"If you weren't a shadow clone, I'd flatten your nose. You just outed us… Seriously, you know he's a sneaky bastard."
"From what I see, that's advanced Hiding in Water. He's no fool… he knows our jutsu options are limited. We need to outsmart him, or this is over."
"What are you talking about? We already lost two of our brothers… we need to avenge them."
Meanwhile, far from the chaos above, the real Erick waited fifty meters away, deep under the water.
Tiger, Ox, Dog... he held all his chakra in, revealing nothing. The water beside him shimmered as a shape began to form, rising from the liquid.
A water clone appeared, nodded once, and shot upward, breaking the surface with barely a sound.
Erick stayed still underwater. He reached out with one hand, palm open, and made a half-Ram seal with the other. Water Pulse, a basic sensory water ninjutsu, sent ripples through the water. Each vibration sends a message to his senses, mapping and telling him something new.
Even if his clones tried the same technique, they would only sense the decoy.
And just as he predicted… one of the clones knelt on the water, pressed his hand to the surface, and closed his eyes.
"Can you feel him? I bet he's shaking in his boots right now. Afraid of my superior tactics."
"Could you shut up... let me concentrate..." the clone that was trying to find the original barked.
The third clone sighed. Always, there's one loudmouth… that never fits the script.
'Why do I always end up with these guys? Why can't there be a task once where I just drink tea and eat Brenna's cookies?'
The sensory clone opened his eyes.
"I found him. Strange… he's not hiding. He's running straight at us."
He pointed behind himself, and all three drew kunai from their ninja pouches. They didn't have time to think.
"Be ready."
A swish of metal cut through the air. The clones' ears perked up… they recognized the sound at once. Two kunai were flying toward them.
Clang… clang
The loud clone knocked them aside with ease. "Ha! Is that all you've got?" he says, his face full of smugness as always.
He threw his own kunai back toward where the flying kunai had come from. At the same time, his hands blurred quickly through a series of hand signs.
Snake, Ram, Monkey, Boar, Horse... in less than a second, he finished... holding the Tiger sign, chakra flaring around him as his chest expanded.
A massive fireball erupted from his mouth, five meters wide, blasting the mist apart and superheating the water until it boiled violently. Steam exploded upward in a roaring cloud.
The loud clone puffed out his chest, soaking up the moment.
"Moron…" came a tired voice from the side.
The loud clone turned, confused, but with the grin on his face, and vanished in a puff of smoke. He had used every drop of chakra he had.
The two remaining clones stared at the empty spot where the loud clone had been.
"We need a new plan."
They stood back-to-back, tense, scanning the mist.
"How much chakra do you have left?" the smarter clone asked.
There was silence. He turned around, but his partner was gone, and he felt a presence appear behind him.
"Man, that's just not fair. I just wanted to relax... what a bummer."
The clone disappeared in a puff of smoke, cut by the kunai in the neck.
Erick stood where the clone had been… a small twitch at the corner of his mouth.
"Yep, this batch really was strange."
He was sure of one thing... the better he got at Shadow Clone ninjutsu, the stranger his clones became.
At the same time, Erick was sure that this strange Shadow clone character trait was intentionally made by Tobirama sensei, the man who loved to control everyone. Erick noticed that all clones had a trait that made them agreeable, but because of this, their characters were off.
Six months had passed… and Erick could finally admit he was now at the level of a proper chunin.
His skills… his movements… and instincts had all improved.
Every day brought progress, sharpening his techniques… building experience bit by bit.
Of course, there were challenges. Body Flicker was easy to learn but much harder to master. The sudden burst of speed was so intense that Erick still struggled with it... not from lack of control, but because it demanded more. You needed awareness, quick thinking, and the ability to read your surroundings before using the jutsu.
If he used too much chakra, he'd end up crashing into a tree. Too little, and it was just a faster version of chakra-enhanced running.
He trained every day but never pushed himself too hard. Unlike Guy or Lee, Erick thought that overtraining as a kid could harm long-term growth. Guy had done incredible things, but Erick believed that if Guy had waited until his body was fully grown before going to extremes, he might have reached even greater heights and maybe avoided needing the Gate of Death. But at the same time, he acknowledged that their world just didn't allow such growth.
He focused on the basics… balance… posture… breathing… minimal physical exertion.
One Punch Man's exercises were easy for someone with chakra, so his body could grow naturally while his chakra took care of the rest. Chakra did a lot. The more it grew, the stronger he got, even without trying. It felt like a passive boost built into his bones. Erick even thought that this natural reinforcement might have inspired Tsunade to invent Chakra Enhanced Strength.
Ninjutsu remained his main focus.
After visiting Winterfell, he became more cautious and careful in how he prepared for things. The world wasn't like the stories he remembered. The weirwood and what was beneath it were different from what he knew and what he had seen on screen. It made him question everything and realize he had to cover every possible weakness. Now, tired after another long session, he opened his status panel.
[STATUS]
Name: Darek (Erick Hayes)
Talent: Superior Chakra Control, Chakra Transfer Technique
Bloodline: Uzumaki
Affiliation: Weir-Grip
Race: Human
Age: 9
Status: Exhausted
Rank: C+
Chakra: 283,450 (Low-Jonin)
SP: 922
He was now nine years old. People in this world didn't celebrate birthdays, but he had learned that his birthday was on the fourth day of the twelfth moon.
His chakra kept growing even when he didn't practice chakra extraction. In fact, it grew faster if he didn't use the technique.
He wasn't sure if chakra was supposed to work this way, but he knew it wasn't a bad thing.
He had a theory he couldn't prove, but he felt that his chakra seed... the one he bought and the ones he gave to the people of Weir-Grip... were somehow different. And in combination with the Uzumaki bloodline, there seemed to be a synergy he couldn't explain… it was one plus one, more than two.
After learning ten ninjutsu, the system granted him a new panel, called skills.
[SKILLS]
*Ninjutsu (Ninja Techniques)
[No-Rank]
Chakra Extraction [Mastered]
Leaf Exercise [Mastered]
Tree Walking [Mastered]
Chakra Sensory [Basic]
[E-Rank]
Clone [Intermediate]
Transformation [Intermediate]
Replacement [Intermediate]
Water Release: Hiding in Water [Mastered]
Water Release: Hiding in Mist [Intermediate]
[D-Rank]
Water Surface Walking [Mastered]
Body Flicker [Intermediate]
Water Release: Water Pulse [Mastered]
Earth Release: Underground Submarine Voyage [Intermediate]
Earth Release: Double Suicide Decapitation Technique [Intermediate]
[C-Rank]
Fire Release: Great Fireball [Intermediate]
Earth Release: Earth-Style Wall [Intermediate]
Water Clone Technique [Intermediate]
[B-Rank]
Shadow Clone [Intermediate]
Earth Release: Hardening Technique [Intermediate]
Water Release: Water Dragon Bullet [Intermediate]
*Taijutsu (Body Techniques)
[E-Rank]
Academy Basic Taijutsu [Basic]
*Iryo-Ninjutsu (Medical Ninjutsu)
[E-rank]
Sterilization Technique [Intermediate]
[D-rank]
Medical Diagnosis Technique [Intermediate]
[C-rank]
Healing Resuscitation Regeneration Technique [Intermediate]
[A-rank]
Mystical Palm Technique [Intermediate]
Chakra Scalpel [Basic]
*Bukijutsu (Weapon Techniques)
Academy Basic Shurikenjutsu [Intermediate]
Wire Strings Manipulation [Basic]
He still had a lot to learn, specifically two categories he was unfamiliar with… Fuinjutsu and Genjutsu.
In the shop, there was the Flying Thunder God ninjutsu for 500 SP, but Erick was afraid to even look at it. It wasn't the price that worried him. He knew enough about how the jutsu worked to realize that, with his Superior Chakra Control, he could learn complex jutsu like Rasengan in just a few days, but there were limits to his talent. Each jutsu was complicated. For example, Erick now believed that to truly master the Shadow Clone jutsu, he needed to learn how to create clones with specific character traits, and this kind of detail was part of almost every jutsu. His chakra talent helped him, but only up to a point.
Now mist around Erick began to thin, drifting apart in slow curls as the shadow clone maintaining Hiding in Mist jutsu had dispersed. With the fog weakening, sounds carried farther... and that was when he heard it.
A light, rhythmic skipping on the water.
There was only one person in all of Weir‑Grip who moved like that.
Erick turned his head, already fighting the urge to laugh.
Through the fading mist stepped Mora... or at least, someone wearing Mora's face... her expression cold and serious, the exact opposite of the cheerful skipping she had just done.
"Not bad… Anna," Erick said, voice steady, holding down laughter. "You almost fooled me."
The girl froze... puffed out her cheeks.
"How did you know? What gave me away?"
The illusion shimmered and puffed out, and Mora's tall frame collapsed into the much smaller shape of Anna, hands on her hips, eyes narrowed in frustration.
Erick shrugged involuntarily... "Who knows?" He absolutely knew.
The image of the real Mora skipping through the mist was so absurd he nearly burst out laughing on the spot. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep a straight face.
Anna huffed, crossing her arms... "Food is ready. Lysa said to pick you up."
In the past six months, everyone who wanted to learn had been taught the basic academy ninjutsu. Most struggled with hand signs… and some still couldn't mold chakra properly, still learning the leaf exercise.
But Anna… Anna was just different.
Her chakra reserves were on the smaller side… but her focus was sharp when it came to chakra and jutsu.
She didn't overthink… didn't hesitate… she simply did. Tree‑walking… water‑walking… the three basic jutsu... she learned each one with a speed that left the others staring.
A strange combination of eagerness and simplicity made her a natural.
Compared to the rest, who were still fumbling through hand signs, Anna was a genius.
Erick smiled faintly as she tugged at his sleeve, urging him toward the settlement.
"Come on! If we're late, Lysa will blame me again!"
----------------
A small room in Kings Landing, windowless, and lit only by four candles pressed into iron sconces at the corners. Their flames flickered weakly, throwing long shadows across the stone floor. The air smelled of dust and melted wax.
A short man in a dark cloak stood in the center.. hands folded neatly before him.
Before him, a boy... no older than eight or nine... dressed in shabby commoner rags, face smudged with dirt, eyes sharp despite the grime.
He moved his hands quickly, fingers dancing through practiced gestures... talking with silent words.
..The cloaked man watched every motion with calm, unblinking attention.
"…Is that all?" he asked softly.
The boy continued signing, faster now, as if trying to empty everything he knew.
"I see," the man murmured… "How interesting."
He flicked his fingers toward the door.
"You may go."
The boy nodded, slipped through the squeaking wooden door, and vanished into the corridor like a shadow swallowed by deeper darkness.
The cloaked man remained still for a moment, listening to the fading footsteps.
Then he exhaled a quiet, amused breath.
"It seems the North is changing," he whispered to the empty room. "What more surprises can you provide… a land of savages?"
A smirk curled beneath the hood.
The candlelight shifted just enough to reveal the smooth, pale face beneath.
Varys… the Spider stood alone in the dim chamber, the faintest glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes.
"…Change is always… useful."
-------------------
Daylight poured through the tall arched windows of the Citadel chamber, warm and bright, carrying with it the distant sounds of Oldtown's harbor. From this height, the entire Hightower district stretched outward like a living tapestry... white stone buildings clustered along winding streets, ships rocking gently in the harbor, and the great Hightower itself rising above everything like a pale giant. Its beacon flame burned even in daylight, a faint shimmer against the sky.
Sea birds wheeled overhead… their cries could be heard, drifting faintly through the open windows.
The breeze carried the scent of salt… tar… and distant fish markets... the unmistakable breath of a port city alive with trade.
Inside the chamber, however, the air was still with suspense… and questions.
Three Archmaesters sat around a heavy oak table… Its surface is polished by centuries of use.
Shelves lined the walls, packed with scrolls, tomes, and glass jars.
Brass astrolabe hung from the ceiling, its rings turning slowly in the warm draft. Candles burned despite the daylight, their flames steady, casting soft gold across the room.
Between the Archmaesters lay several ceramic jars... each sealed, each marked with unfamiliar symbols, each filled with medicines that had arrived from the North.
Archmaester Vaelor leaned forward, his face twisting with outrage... "This is heresy…" he sputtered, flecks of saliva landing across the nearest jar. "Who is selling this? How dare they!"
Archmaester Walgrave grimaced, staring at the now‑spattered jars with deep disgust. He had received them a few days ago, and even then, he had sensed trouble.
"I am already investigating," Walgrave said, voice tight. "As of now, it appears to be a new group of healers operating in the North. They call themselves the Weir‑Grip healers."
Archmaester Rennifer's eyes sharpened, urging him to continue.
"Yes," Walgrave said, folding his hands. "I am attempting to locate them. Our agents have been sent to purchase their knowledge… and afterward, as always... we will eliminate them."
Rennifer nodded slowly, a thin smile forming... the kind that never reached the eyes... "No one may possess such knowledge except the Citadel. No man is worthy of it."
All three of them already knew the truth... the medicines worked, too well if they needed to be honest... the effects were undeniable... and dangerous.
Dangerous because they threatened the Citadel's authority over healing, over knowledge, over the very idea of who held wisdom in Westeros.
Walgrave reached into his robe and withdrew a bundle of copied, intercepted messages. He dropped them onto the table. The parchments slid across the wood, some curling at the edges.
"We have another problem," he said quietly. "One that must be dealt with quickly."
Rennifer and Vaelor picked up the parchments. Their expressions shifted as they read... confusion, then realization, then unease.
Reports of strange activity at Sea Dragon Point... a mist that lingered unnaturally... rumors passing between Northern houses, and now even talk is heard in Southern houses.
Rennifer tapped the parchment with a long, bony finger... "Do we know what this is? A barrier? A formation? Who did you send to investigate?"
Walgrave rose slowly, joints cracking, and shuffled toward a locked cabinet. Chamber's light caught the dust motes swirling around him. From his robe, he produced a ring of keys... dozens of them... and fumbled until he found the right one. The cabinet creaked open, revealing stacks of old and new records.
He pulled out a folder.
"This task was taken by order of the Veiled Ash and Ink," he said. "Sent out a moon ago. Fortunately, the situation has not spread among the common folk. Only the lords know."
"That is good," Rennifer muttered. "I do not wish to waste my time cleaning up whatever this is."
Vaelor stroked his beard thoughtfully… eyes drifting toward the window where the Hightower loomed over the city like a silent judge.
"What do you think this phenomenon is?" he murmured. "I recall reading Archmaester Vaedric's records... the artifacts found at Sea Dragon Point. More than a hundred items of magical nature. Fascinating work. Those savages of old knew how to craft wonders."
His eyes gleamed… with memory... "That Dark Wood Cube… whose lines, that were not visible even with the naked eye. It still fascinates me. To this day, we do not know its purpose." He sighed with contentment and part disappointment.
Rennifer's voice cut through the Vaedric's sighs... "It does not matter what it is. Magic can be held only in our hands, in our lands, only by us... the Order of the Black Chain."
The words settled heavily in the room.
Most Maesters despised magic, as a kind of trick of the eye, or pretended to.
And ninety‑nine percent of maesters would never be told the truth.
But behind locked doors, behind oaths and shadows, the Black Chain studied what others feared. They train young and old in arts that bend perception of reality. They experimented on things that could turn everyone against them. They create miracles and horrors that this world is not ready for.
For six thousand years... since the Citadel's founding... they had known magic existed. And for six thousand years, they had ensured that only they controlled it.
They rewrote history... erased threats... killed when necessary.
All to keep magic... and knowledge... in their hands alone.
Vaelor's fingers brushed the small, rune‑etched black link hidden beneath his robes... a symbol of the order... a reminder of their purpose.
"Whatever is happening in the North," he said softly, "we will uncover it. And we will end it." Outside, a seagull cried as it circled the Hightower's peak.