After repeated rounds of training, the sun set, dusk deepened, and night fell like a vast black cloth over all of Konoha.
After seeing off the still-shaken Jiraiya and the delighted Hinata, Naruto returned to his apartment.
The room was as neat as ever, every item placed in the most sensible position, like barracks ready for inspection at any moment. He drew the curtains, blocking out the last trace of moonlight from outside, and the entire room sank into pure darkness.
He stood in the center of the darkness, motionless, adjusting his breathing.
The two summonings during the day—one had been an accident, the other a test.
That accident had been like a key, opening a door even he had never expected.
He bit his finger again, and the taste of blood spread across his tongue.
This time, he did not touch the contract belonging to Mount Myoboku. He sank all his mental energy into the deepest part of his soul and, like an experienced diver, precisely grasped that faint yet incomparably resilient beacon connecting him to another world.
"Summoning Jutsu."
The sound barely caused an echo in the silent room. His palm pressed lightly against the cold floor.
There was no deafening boom, nor any white smoke that blotted out the sky.
A mass of twisted black mist, carrying a strong smell of rust, silently seeped up from the floor. It was as viscous as oil and gave off the stale, heavy aura of a distant battlefield.
The mist slowly dispersed.
Karsten, the exhausted soldier clad in damaged armor, appeared in the room once more.
He looked even more miserable than he had during the day. Several fresh, bone-deep gashes marked his dark green armor, one of them having narrowly grazed the artery in his neck. His eyes held