The Heavenly Demon Reincarnates In The World Of Naruto

"Grandfather! Grandfather! Do you know any more stories about the Heavenly Demon?"

The question came with the excited clamor of small voices.

In the grand city known as the very center of authority and power in the Immortal Realm, everything shimmered with an otherworldly glow.

The city was made entirely of lunar marble, a stone so radiant it reflected the light of the twin suns like a second moon during the day.

Beneath the protective purple array that shielded the "City of Worldly Desires," the streets seemed to hum with life and purpose.

Near the edge of a serene courtyard, a group of children—no older than six or seven—gathered with wooden swords, spears, and shields in hand. Their cheeks were flushed from running and playing games, pretending to be demons and immortals locked in an eternal battle. Now they stood, eyes wide with curiosity, encircling an old man who looked to be well into his eighties.

The old man had a long white beard that reached his chest, and his wrinkled face carried the weight of years spent in a world far grander than these children could imagine. His head was bare except for a faint shadow where hair had long since stopped growing. He sighed as he gazed at one of the twin red suns, its fiery glow softened by the translucent purple barrier overhead.

They asked him about the Heavenly Demon again. Of course, they did. He'd lost count of how many times these children had begged for another story. Yet he knew, deep down, it was his fault they were so fascinated.

Once, when he was younger—much younger—he had been part of the Heavenly Demonic Cult. He had even stood in the presence of the Heavenly Demon himself, an experience that few could boast of. But in his old age, his loose tongue had gotten the better of him. He'd bragged about his past to his grandchildren, weaving tales of power and awe.

Now, the stories had spread among their friends, and every time the children played their games, they returned to him, begging for more.

He couldn't entirely blame them. These days, it seemed every child, teenager, and young martial artist worshipped the Heavenly Demon as if he were the pinnacle of strength and glory.

Becoming a martial artist and achieving immortality were dreams that consumed this generation, and the Heavenly Demon stood at the center of their aspirations.

He chuckled softly, though the sound was tinged with embarrassment. After all, he had once been no different.

Back in his prime, he had admired the Heavenly Demon with the same fervor. Even now, if he were honest, the reverence hadn't entirely faded.

His gaze flickered to the small wooden shelf inside his modest home, where a tiny action figure sat tucked between old scrolls and worn martial manuals. It was the likeness of the Heavenly Demon, carved with meticulous care.

The old man sighed again, louder this time, and turned back to the eager faces waiting for him to speak. The children leaned closer, their wooden weapons clutched in anticipation.

"Alright," he said finally, his voice slow and gravelly. "I'll tell you another story. But this is the last one for today."

A collective cheer erupted from the group, and the children quickly sat down on the polished marble floor, their wooden swords and shields abandoned beside them.

The old man allowed a small smile to tug at his lips. No matter how many times he tried to resist, he couldn't deny the joy in their shining eyes or the warmth it brought to his own tired heart.

"Many, many years ago, there was a big, bad dragon with seven heads," the old man began, his voice low and gravelly, drawing the children closer. "This dragon ruled over the entire region of Arhi and devoured hundreds of millions of people every day."

The children's eyes widened, their little hands clutching their knees as they leaned in, hanging on every word.

The old man continued with a knowing smile, embellishing the tale as he spoke.

The story wasn't entirely his own—he'd heard it from a friend, who'd heard it from his uncle, who'd gotten it from his ex, who'd supposedly heard it from her father, a man who claimed to have witnessed the events firsthand.

How much of it was true? Who could say? Still, the children didn't seem to mind.

Of course, the old man exaggerated a bit. He chuckled inwardly—there was no way the dragon had eaten hundreds of millions of people daily. That was absurd. It probably consumed a modest hundred million or so.

"And one day," he continued, his voice taking on a dramatic tone, "this dragon dared to defy the Heavenly Demonic Cult. It killed the cult's envoy—a group of highly skilled warriors who had approached it with respect, asking it to become the cult's pet."

The children gasped, their imaginations conjuring the fierce battle. One of them clutched a wooden sword as if ready to face the dragon himself.

"But the dragon was no ordinary beast," the old man said. "It was a supreme-ranked creature, a being so powerful that even mountains would crumble before it. It killed the envoy with ease."

"What happened next?!" one of the children blurted out, unable to contain their excitement.

The old man paused, letting the tension build, though not intentionally—he was simply catching his breath. "What happened next?" he said, his tone almost dismissive.

"The Heavenly Demon went to the dragon and killed it with a single strike. Just like that."

The plainness of his delivery deflated the dramatic buildup, but the children still erupted in cheers and awe, their imaginations filling in the gaps where his storytelling lacked flair.

Though the old man wasn't much of a storyteller, the children didn't seem to care.It's just that there aren't any suppliers of this drug called 'stories about the Heavenly Demon' that the children can get their fix from.
Otherwise, they'd be getting high on this stuff day and night, without having to suffer through the old man's lack of skills.

"Lord Shin," a deep, urgent voice broke through the air, halting the old man mid-sentence. Both he and the children turned to see a man in a black cloak standing at the edge of the courtyard. The man's long blonde hair framed his pale face, and his piercing blue eyes seemed to glow with an unsettling intensity.

The moment Shin saw him, his cheerful demeanor evaporated, replaced by a grim seriousness. His brows furrowed, and his lips pressed into a thin line.

"Children," Shin said, his tone firm but not unkind, "go play over there." He gestured to the far end of the house, a place far enough away that they wouldn't overhear the conversation he was about to have.

"But we want to hear more stories, right?" protested his grandson, his voice full of youthful determination. The boy's eyes darted to his friends, silently urging them to join his rebellion.

"Yes! More stories about the Lord of the Heavens!" the other children chimed in, their small voices echoing with stubborn enthusiasm.

"Go. Now," Shin commanded, his eyes sharp as steel. The coldness in his gaze left no room for argument, and the children, though reluctant, shuffled away.

Once they were out of earshot, Shin waved his hand, creating a glowing array that shimmered faintly around him and the cloaked man. It was a protective barrier, ensuring their words would not reach any curious ears.

"What's the matter, Lerin?" Shin asked, his voice steady but edged with concern as he turned to face the man.

Lerin, the cloaked figure, pulled back his hood, revealing a face that might have been considered strikingly handsome if not for its current state.

His skin was ghostly pale, his lips nearly colorless, and his eyes had the hollow look of someone on the verge of collapse.

Shin's worry deepened. The man before him wasn't just anyone—this was Lerin, commander of the Draconic Corps of the Heavenly Demonic Cult.

If someone of Lerin's stature had come to him in such a state, something must have gone terribly wrong.

"What happened, Lerin?" Shin pressed, his voice low and measured, though his heart thudded in his chest.

Lerin opened his mouth, his voice trembling as he began to speak. "Th-The Heavenly…"

Shin's breath hitched. There was only one person in the cult referred to as "The Heavenly." The Heavenly Demon.

For a brief moment, Shin's mind raced, searching for explanations. Perhaps the Heavenly Demon had sent for him? Or maybe the demon had given Lerin some cryptic, maddening order?

After all, the Heavenly Demon had a penchant for chaos that Shin knew all too well from his time as the cult's vice leader.

But nothing could have prepared him for what Lerin said next.

"The Heavenly Demon is dead."

The words hit Shin like a thunderclap, leaving him momentarily stunned. Dead? The Heavenly Demon? The idea was so absurd it bordered on impossible.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the plane of existence, in the world of shinobis...

A couple had just welcomed their firstborn into the world. Both parents appeared to be in their early 30s, with black hair and brown eyes. The joy on their faces was unmistakable as they gazed at their newborn son.

"His name will be..." Fugaku began, about to name his firstborn.

But suddenly, the baby, who was resting in his mother's lap, spoke up.

"Cheon Ma."

The baby said it with such authority, as if he were Anos Voldigoad himself. But in reality, he was bigger, better, and stronger!

{A/N: I Am Back!}