The Truth About the Nursery

"He will become the perfect administrator," the remnant's voice echoed through the vision. "Efficient, rational, and absolutely obedient to the logic of the selection mechanism. He will protect Earth, yes, but he will do so by bringing all life into perfect balance, eliminating every accident, every chaos, every trace of... humanity."

The vision shifted, revealing that possible future: no wars, no disasters, no suffering—but no creativity, no love, and none of the irrational, imperfect yet real things Sarada cherished. Boruto—or rather, the being occupying Boruto's body—would become a benevolent tyrant, using absolute power to maintain absolute monotony.

"There is only one way to stop him," the remnant said, focusing the vision on Sarada and her newly awakened ability. "At the moment his transformation is complete, the instant he becomes an administrator, use his complete dehumanization as the signal. Lock that point in time with 'Time Dilation,' then—"

He showed her the motion. It wasn't simple murder, but something more precise: while time was locked, Boruto's existence would be severed from causality. Not death, but never having existed at all. All his influence on the planetary network would be reversed, and the selection mechanism's mark on Earth would be reset.

"This is the ultimate application of 'Time Dilation,'" the remnant said. "I call it 'Causal Severance.' In a thousand years, I've used it only three times, and each time came at a price."

"What price?"

"Memories." The remnant's Light Pattern suddenly flickered violently, revealing some painful recollection. "The one severed disappears from everyone's memories except the one who carried it out. You'll remember him, Sarada. You'll be the only one who remembers the boy named Uzumaki Boruto—his smile, his foolishness, his courage. His parents, his sister, the whole world, will no longer know he ever existed."

Sarada felt a cold hand