The Sea of God

Boruto stood atop Konoha's highest watchtower, looking down at the city slowly waking below. The darkness before dawn was pierced by the first rays of sunlight, golden-red light flowing through the clouds like Chakra. His Light Patterns—now an almost transparent white—were nearly invisible in the morning light. Only the occasional rainbow glint proved they were still there.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Sarada's voice came from behind him. Her Mangekyō Sharingan had closed, but the blood at the corners of her eyes had not yet been completely wiped away. The impact of last night's dream had left fine cracks around her pupils, like a broken mirror that had somehow remained intact. "Not everyone is ready. Not everyone can bear the truth that 'we're just an experiment.'"

"That's exactly the problem." Boruto didn't turn around. His consciousness still flowed through the global network, sensing the state of every Node. "The Judgement believes humanity needs to be protected—from chaos, from failure, from the cruelty of the truth. The planet raised me to prove that protection can take different forms. But if I keep hiding things, keep deciding who can handle what information, how am I any different from them?"

He turned around, the white Light Patterns forming tiny whirlpools around his pupils. "I'm not going to announce the truth. I'm going to establish a system. One that lets everyone encounter the truth at their own pace, and lets the truth itself serve as a filter—not to decide who deserves to survive, but who is ready to grow."

Sarada came closer, her steps unsteady. The aftereffects of overusing Time Dilation still lingered. "How exactly? A global broadcast? Telepathy? Or a collective dream like last night?"

"Something more precise." Boruto held out his hand. Light Patterns gathered in his palm, forming