Naruto: The Last Harbinger of Storm

Naruto: The Last Harbinger of Storm

Chapter 64- The Silence Of Wind Or Is It Life?

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Author's Note:

Hey guys! 🌟 Hope you're all enjoying the story so far. 😊💬 I've noticed a lot of comments about the sudden shift in Naruto's personality, and I wanted to address it. 🧠✨

It's not that the Naruto I've been weaving has suddenly changed into someone else. Everyone has parts of themselves they suppress—things they deem undesirable or unworthy. 🌌 Often, these suppressed traits come to the surface during moments of shock, failure, or helplessness. It's like the saying goes, "Oh, now they're showing their true self." But the truth is, it's not their "true self"—it's an unacknowledged part of them that they've never fully faced. 💔

Naruto, after tasting failure and watching everything he built collapse, is experiencing that helplessness. His frustration and feelings of boredom, of nothingness, are surfacing now because he's not suppressing them anymore and he can not leave he is confined. The story isn't about leaving him in this state—it's about him coming to terms with these emotions and overcoming them. 🌱🔥

As Friedrich Nietzsche once said: "He who has a why to live can bear almost any how." Naruto will find his "why" again, and through that, he'll grow even stronger. 💪🌟

Please like, comment, and subscribe! 🙏❤️ Let me know if you agree with these thoughts and how you're feeling about these last two chapters. Your feedback means the world to me! 💬📖✨

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"In the midst of movement and chaos, keep stillness inside of you." — Deepak Chopra

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Join ThirdFireTriden on Pa(tre)(on) the link is in description or type my name in google search with pat (tre) on remove the space and bracket!

NTLHOS: Chapter 65: Realisation And Transformation IS OUT!

NTLHOS: Chapter 66: The Game Is ONN IS OUT!

NTLHOS: Chapter 67: A Storm Is Always Remains A Storm. IS OUT !

NTLHOS: Chapter 68: New threads of Influence is out!

NTLHOS: Chapter 69: Strategy- The Great Heist IS OUT!

NTLHOS: Chapter 70: Wrath of Darkness IS OUT!

NTLHOS: Chapter 71: "Echoes of Thunder IS OUT!

NTLHOS: Chapter 72: The Silent Rebellion IS OUT!

NTLHOS: Chapter 73: Glimpse of the Kami no Shinobi IS OUT !

NTLHOS: Chapter 74: Tempest of Despair and Hope IS OUT! 

NTLHOS: Chapter 75: The Great Assembling IS OUT!

NTLHOS: Chapter 76: The Whirlpool's Dominions IS OUT!!! (New)

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Last time on Naruto: The Last Harbinger of Storm:

Killer Bee, who had been unusually quiet up to this point, let out a low hum, his voice uncharacteristically serious. "Kushina Uzumaki… She killed my predecessor and many more Kumo shinobi with that snake, Minato's wife… she wasn't no pushover. I fought her once, long ago. She nearly sealed me, man, and that's no show. Uzumaki blood runs deep, their power, it don't sleep. If Minato's son's got that storm flow, we better be ready, yo."

The Raikage's hand clenched at the mention of Kushina, the "she-devil" who had evaded capture in their failed attempts long ago. His eyes narrowed as he considered the implications. His mind drifted to the chaos that could unfold if Naruto Uzumaki truly wielded the full might of his bloodline. His father had feared Minato, but Naruto was an unknown quantity—an unpredictable force whose power had not yet been fully realized.

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Now:

The soft notes of the flute drifted across the clearing, interwoven with the gentle rustling of leaves. Naruto sat with his back against a tree, his fingers gliding deftly over the flute's bamboo surface, his breaths even and controlled. His appearance had changed dramatically over the past year. At seventeen, a thin beard now traced the line of his jaw, giving him a more mature, weathered look. His body had grown lean and agile, muscles defined with strength yet flexible, honed through relentless training. He wore only loose pants, his upper body bare, revealing the sinewy strength he had gained. Around his neck hung a string of large, brown, round beads—prayer beads—each the size of a small fist, giving him an almost monk-like air. His face, once filled with youthful intensity, was now serene and calm, reflecting a confidence that had replaced from impulsiveness of youth.

A year ago, the mere thought of sitting in a peaceful forest playing a flute would have been laughable. He would have thrown a tantrum—he had thrown plenty of tantrums, in fact—shouting at the old man, insisting that his people needed him, that they trusted him, and that he couldn't just vanish when they were in the middle of such turmoil. He had shouted, he had begged, his voice echoing through the trees, desperate and angry. But the old man—calm, immovable—had simply remained silent, eyes closed, as if Naruto's words were nothing more than whispers carried off by the wind.

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In the beginning, Naruto had blown into the flute with all the subtlety of a charging bull—more like a damn trumpet. When it didn't work, he tried forcing chakra through it, bending the wind to his will as he would in battle. He even attempted to infuse his wind nature directly into the flute, hoping it would create the melody he needed. But every time, the sound that came out was wrong—too harsh, too jarring, more like a screech than music. He'd cursed under his breath, annoyed that something so simple could elude him.

For the first fifteen days, the old man hadn't said a word, hadn't even opened his eyes. Naruto had been left to struggle, frustrated beyond belief, trying to figure out why he couldn't make this stupid flute work. It was only after days of failure that he began to realize just how much control was required to play it. This wasn't about just blowing air—it was about guiding the movement of the wind inside the flute, controlling not just its flow, but its volume, intensity, and even the shape of the air. It was maddening. The air didn't just move—it contacted, expanded, shifted in ways he hadn't imagined. Each time his fingers blocked one of the holes, it changed the length of the wind's flow, altered its direction, and dictated the number of tiny streams—or nuzzles, as the old man called them—through which the wind would escape.

"What kind of genius came up with this stupid thing?" he muttered to himself on more than one occasion, the complexity of it driving him mad.

By the end of his first fifteen days, Naruto had finally managed to produce something resembling music, though he had to use hand seals to manipulate the wind inside the flute. The process was intricate, requiring a level of precision that he hadn't realized he lacked. He thought his wind nature was strong, but this... this was a whole new level of control. It was like threading a needle with a tornado.

Desperate to make progress, he created forty shadow clones to assist him. They spread out around the clearing, each one of them focusing on mastering the finer nuances of wind manipulation. Still, no matter how much effort he put into it, one thing became painfully clear—his wind nature, despite being his second affinity, was nowhere near as developed as his water nature. Every note felt like a battle between the air and his will, and the flute always seemed to come out on top.

Naruto cursed again, shaking his head. "This small, bloody thing is the most complex thing I've ever tried to master," he grumbled to himself. How can something so simple be so frustrating? It was humbling, in a way—he could bring down entire armies, but when it came to producing a single, clear note on this flute, he was completely outmatched.

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And then, after the 15th day of intense practice, the old man opened his eyes. It had been fifteen days of silence of the man sitting still without food or water. Naruto had grown used to the stillness, though he had begun to wonder if the man was even alive. That was until a strange rhythm emerged. For the first time, Naruto noticed the small monkey that began placing fruits and berries near the old man. It seemed to know exactly when the old man would wake—on the fifteenth day, it started bringing food three days ago that wouldn't spoil at least 3 days, then the next day it brought food that wouldn't spoil in two days, and today it brought things that would spoil in a day without preservation, as if predicting the precise moment.

As if by clockwork, the old man opened his eyes on the 15th day, rose silently, and made his way to the river. He took a long, deliberate bath, the water rippling softly as if in deference to him. When he returned to the clearing, he wore a fresh set of robes, his movements as calm and measured as ever. He settled by the small pile of fruit and berries left by the monkey, eating slowly, as though time itself bowed to his rhythm.

After finishing his meal, the old man's voice finally broke the long, oppressive silence. "Hand seals... won't be considered as playing the flute to my satisfaction," he said, his tone quiet yet unyielding. Naruto's jaw clenched in frustration, the progress he thought he had made suddenly feeling like it had evaporated.

Of course, Naruto thought bitterly. Of course he saw everything. But how? The man's eyes had been closed the entire time. Was it a clone? Some other technique? Yet deep down, Naruto knew the answer. The old man always knew. He always did.

Before Naruto could muster a response, the sage rose to his feet, his expression as inscrutable as ever, and wandered off into the forest. Hours passed before he returned, settling back into his usual spot beneath the massive tree, his eyes once again slipping closed. The silence resumed, and with it, the weight of Naruto's mounting frustration.

Back to square one.

Naruto couldn't shake the sense that the entire forest conspired against him. Every time he tried to pitch a tent or prepare a meal, something strange happened—earth would swallow his camp, gusts of wind would scatter his supplies, and animals would disrupt whatever he built. It was as though the land itself rejected him. He had resigned himself to sleeping on bare ground, eating fruits and drinking from the stream.

Determination—or was it desperation?—both were something Naruto didn't lack now. Over the next fifteen days, he pushed himself to new heights, mastering the art of manipulating the wind without hand seals. He learned to control the wind with nothing but the subtle shifts of his lips, the delicate movements of his fingers over the flute's tone holes. He became attuned to the vibrations of the instrument, his palms sensing even the slightest tremor of sound or vibration.

This is absurd, Naruto had thought more than once, shaking his head in disbelief. All this just to blow a flute?

But the old man had been clear: no hand seals. And Naruto had to admit, begrudgingly, that his wind nature had reached a level of precision he hadn't thought possible. His mastery—or to be precise, his precision—over wind was now on par with his control over water. He could feel it in every note he played, every breath that passed through the flute.

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On the thirtieth day, as the forest stirred with the gentle hum of the morning, Naruto sat by the stream, waiting. He expected the old man to open his eyes today—he had learned to track the old man's routine, observing how the monkey began preparing food just in time for the old man to awaken.

As predicted, the old man stirred. He opened his eyes, rose, and performed his daily rituals or was it weekly rituals? —washing in the stream, eating the fruits left for him by the monkey. Naruto watched, his patience wearing thin. He had reached his limit.

When the sage returned to his spot, Naruto couldn't hold back any longer. "I've mastered the wind—I mean, the flute," he said, his voice carrying across the clearing. "I've learned to control the flute, just like you wanted. I'm ready to leave this place."

The old man didn't respond immediately. He took his time, finishing his meal and wiping his hands clean. Naruto's frustration simmered beneath the surface. When the old man finally met his gaze, there was no amusement in his eyes, no mockery—only calm.

"You've mastered the wind itself, have you?" the old man asked, his voice soft, almost distant.

Naruto nodded. "I have."

The old man's lips twitched into the faintest of smiles. "But I didn't ask you to master the wind itself or control the flute. I asked you to play music."

Naruto replied with annoyance, "I've learned to play the music—the same three melodies you showed me."

Naruto's heart pounded in his chest as the old man stood and began to walk. Without hesitation, Naruto followed him into another clearing. The forest was eerily still, the air heavy with expectation. They stopped at a large, moss-covered boulder where the old man gracefully sat, his posture as serene as ever. He gestured for Naruto to sit on the floor. Naruto dropped down quickly, impatience tightening his every movement.

"Demonstrate this mastery you claim to have gained," the old man said quietly, his voice carrying a weight that made Naruto's frustration bubble just beneath the surface.

Naruto took the flute in his hands, the familiar feel of the bamboo beneath his fingers grounding him. He began to blow, controlling the wind as he had trained to do. Slowly, the melody he had practiced for so long flowed from the flute. The same music the old man had played days before. The old man closed his eyes, swaying slightly to the otherworldly sound that filled the clearing. His expression was unreadable, but Naruto pressed on.

He transitioned into the second melody, carefully replicating each note. Again, the old man moved with the music, his eyes closed, legs folded in a lotus position as if in deep meditation. For the first time in weeks, Naruto felt a glimmer of hope.

But before he could start the third melody, the old man opened his eyes. "May I see the flute?" he asked, holding out his hand.

Naruto hesitated but handed it over. The old man took it, inspecting it closely. He turned it over in his hands before returning it to Naruto. "Continue."

Naruto nodded and prepared to play the third melody. But as he blew into the flute, nothing happened. No sound emerged from the instrument. He frowned, his fingers adjusting their position, but still—only silence. His chest tightened. At first, he thought the old man had tampered with the flute. But no, it was the same. He only touched it. Somehow, Naruto couldn't channel his wind chakra into the flute anymore. How? He had no idea.

Anger surged through him. "You did something," Naruto snapped, his eyes narrowing at the old man.

The old man met his gaze calmly. "I did something."

"You made the flute... insulated from wind control!" Naruto accused, his frustration boiling over.

The old man nodded, unfazed. "Yes. That is the only way I could help you."

"How does this help me?!" Naruto shouted, his voice cracking with the raw emotion that had built up over the weeks. "Will you let me leave with only two songs?"

The old man shook his head slowly. "No, I will not."

Silence followed. Naruto's heart pounded in his chest, the desperation clawing at him. Tears—real, bitter tears—welled in his eyes, something he hadn't felt in years. He didn't cry out of sadness but out of pure, helpless frustration. "Why?" he demanded, his voice breaking. "Why won't you let me go?"

The old man's expression softened, though his tone remained firm. "I asked you to play music to my satisfaction. You've copied the sounds I made, but there's no melody, no emotion behind it. It's bland and mechanical. You're controlling the flute, child, but you're not feeling it. You haven't given yourself over to the music."

In a flash of anger, Naruto charged his wind chakra, and with nothing more than a thought, a wind blade surged toward the old man. It happened so fast that even Naruto was shocked—he had created the wind blade without hand seals, purely by thought. It was a skill only whispered about, said to have been mastered by legends like Danzo Shimura and Hiruzen Sarutobi. But the old man didn't flinch. A shimmering white shield appeared around him, effortlessly blocking the attack as though it were nothing more than a gust of wind.

Naruto stood frozen, wide-eyed. The old man rose and began to walk away, leaving Naruto to chase after him, begging once again. "Please... just let me leave..."

The old man paused and turned slightly. "Fine. I will give you a simple melody. Master this by the time I awaken next, and you may leave."

Naruto watched, breathless, as the old man returned to his usual spot beneath the ancient tree. The old man took the flute and began to play, slowly and deliberately, his fingers moving gracefully over the bamboo, his lips barely shifting as he exhaled. Each note was precise yet filled with a depth of emotion that made the air itself seem to hum. Naruto's eyes tracked every movement, committing it to memory—the slight shifts of the old man's lips, the subtle pressure of his fingers over the tone holes, the exact control of his breath.

The melody was simple, but it carried a weight of experience Naruto couldn't yet grasp. When the old man finished, he handed the flute back to Naruto.

"Do this," he said, his voice soft but firm, "and you will leave."

Naruto took the flute, but the old man's words echoed in his head. This wasn't about control. It never had been. The frustration that had gnawed at him for so long swelled once more, but this time, he buried it deep. He couldn't afford to give in to it. Not now.

As the old man closed his eyes and slipped back into meditation, Naruto stared at the flute in his hands, his mind racing. It wasn't enough to replicate the notes. He had to feel the bloody thing. 

And only then would he be 'set free'.

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Days bled into weeks, and before Naruto knew it, a full month had passed. The old man hadn't lifted his head once during that time, not even a glance in his direction. Naruto had expected some sign, some recognition of his efforts—but there was nothing.

By the half-month mark, Naruto had mastered the mechanics of the flute. He could replicate the sounds, understand the flow of air, and had gained an in-depth understanding of the wind itself. He'd even perfected the melodies the old man had shown him, and could play them in his sleep. But the feeling—the essence—was missing. Even he could tell there was no soul in his music. And Naruto, not exactly known for his musical prowess, could sense the hollowness.

He didn't need the old man to tell him. He could hear it himself.

With each passing day, Naruto grew more frustrated. His usual method—rigorous training—wasn't enough this time. He learned that no amount of training could bring life into the music. He started taking long walks through the forest, his mind spinning in circles as he lamented his helplessness. Slowly, he felt himself unraveling. The focused mind that had once been intent on mastering wind-style was beginning to crack, and the isolation was taking its toll. He didn't have anyone to talk to. He was alone in the truest sense.

How does the old man do it? Naruto wondered bitterly. He sits there, in the dark, day after day, and it doesn't even faze him.

Naruto walked aimlessly through the woods, muttering to himself. At first, he tried talking to the animals that lingered around the clearing, but they either ignored him or fled at the sound of his voice. Once, in a fit of frustration, he'd lashed out at the old man, launching a wind-infused attack in his direction. But the same damn white shield materialized instantly, protecting the man.

It had been pointless. Everything felt pointless.

Naruto hadn't practiced ninjutsu or any of his shinobi arts in weeks. The very will to live was slipping away from him, like sand through his fingers. He spent the last fifteen days barely functioning, haunted by the faces of those he'd left behind. The thought of his people—once his greatest motivation—felt distant now. Like something from another life. The elemental nations, his mission, the exodus… all of it felt like a fading memory in this pit of despair.

Naruto hadn't touched the flute in over two weeks, which felt like years. He didn't see the point. There was no music left in him.

What am I even doing anymore? he thought, staring blankly at the sky. He spent days teetering on the edge of sanity, speaking to himself at first, until even that seemed useless. The void inside him grew deeper, darker. His mind was a prison, and every moment spent in this cursed place felt like a lifetime. The once fiery determination that had driven him for so long was now a distant ember.

And then, there came a day when Naruto finally broke.

He had seen the precipice—he stared at the thin line between sanity and insanity—and he had crossed it. His thoughts were a tangled mess, his memories distant and fragmented. The person he had once been, the boy who dreamed of leading his people to greatness, seemed like a stranger to him now.

He made his decision.

Naruto prepared for his final act. His body had become a shell, his will drained from weeks of hopelessness. He hadn't eaten, hadn't trained, hadn't spoken a word to anyone—because there was no one to speak to. The only possessions he had left were the flute and the sword. Everything else—all his shinobi tools and belongings—had been discarded long ago, their presence in his seals too irritating to bear. He had removed the seals from his skin, tossing them away into the flaming woods, no longer wanting anything that wasn't him anymore.

If I'm going to end it, he thought, then I'll do it with my own hands.

Naruto reached for the flute, intending to destroy it before he destroyed himself. He held it in both hands, ready to snap the bamboo in two. But as his fingers tightened around it, something inside him wavered. Instead of breaking it, he found himself pressing it to his lips one last time.

Without thinking, he began to play.

The melody that came out wasn't the precise, controlled sound he had learned. It wasn't perfect or calculated. It was raw—unfiltered emotion pouring from his very soul. The music echoed through the clearing, laced with sadness, anger, and desperation. As the notes flowed, tears streamed down Naruto's face. He didn't know why he was crying—but this was different. This wasn't just pain. This was everything. Everything he had held inside, all the loneliness, all the frustration, all the helplessness, it was bleeding out through the music.

This is it, he thought as he continued to play, his hands trembling. This is the last thing I'll ever do.

His fingers never faltered, even as his heart felt like it was being torn from his chest. He didn't stop, not even when his mind reached for his sword, Arashi no Megami, which began to glide toward him. The blade gleamed in the soft light. Without hesitation, he willed the tip against his abdomen, preparing for seppuku—the final act that would free him from this endless misery.

But before the sword could plunge into his flesh, a hand stopped him.

Naruto's tear-filled eyes widened in shock. The old man was standing over him, a faint smile on his face. He hadn't heard the old man approach, hadn't sensed him, but there he was, hand wrapped firmly around the sword's hilt, preventing Naruto from ending his own life. The first absurd thought that came to Naruto's mind was: How can anyone hold the blade when I had claimed it back to my blood?

The music stopped.

Naruto's breath hitched, his body trembling. He looked up at the sage, his emotions swirling in confusion and despair. "Why?" he croaked, barely able to form the words.

The old man's smile didn't waver. His eyes, usually distant and unreadable, were filled with understanding. "Now, you've played music," he said softly.

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They walked in silence. Naruto, half-mad by now, moved like a wild animal—twitchy, restless, his mind fraying at the edges. But the moment the old man placed a hand on his shoulder, everything changed. All his sorrow, all his misery, washed away as if it had never been there. For a fleeting moment, he was filled with something akin to ecstasy. The weight that had been suffocating him for weeks vanished, replaced by a calm that felt both foreign and overwhelming.

They reached the familiar clearing where the old man always meditated. The towering trees swayed gently in the breeze, the only witnesses to the scene unfolding. The old man turned to Naruto, his eyes calm, knowing. "You are free to leave now," he said, his voice as steady as the earth beneath them. "I will not stop you."

Naruto looked at him, his expression a mixture of confusion and disbelief. He opened his mouth, then closed it, struggling to find the words. Finally, he spoke, his voice hoarse, as if from years of silence. "What do I have left?Everything I considered mine... it's all in my head. I've lost it. I want to learn to sit still, to be unmoving without the weight of loneliness crushing me."

The old man raised an eyebrow, as if considering the depth of Naruto's words. "Why?" he asked, tilting his head slightly. "Wasn't I wasting time by sitting here, doing nothing, as you once believed?"

Naruto's gaze fell to the ground, a faint smile tugging at his lips, bitter and hollow. "I thought like that once," he admitted. "But I've come to realize... everything I call me or mine will eventually be taken away by time. It will fade. But before that happens, I want to experience what you experience. I want to understand."

The old man studied him for a long moment, then nodded. "Very well. You may stay. You can send one letter a month and receive one letter from the outside. After all you lot of things to do outside."

Naruto shook his head. "That's not important. They probably think I'm dead by now."

The old man's eyes gleamed with something close to amusement. "While you think years have passed, it has only been two months."

Naruto blinked, shock rippling through him. "Two months?" It had felt like years—an eternity spent lost in the abyss of his own mind. He let out a shaky breath. "Doesn't matter. In the shinobi world, two months of silence means captured... or killed. I promised I would send a message after seven days. By now, they've probably blown their cover. They might already be dead."

The old man smiled, a knowing look crossing his face. "They received a letter, Lord Naruto Uzumaki, informing them that you would be going incognito for two months. They were told not to disturb you."

Naruto's eyes widened in disbelief. "What? What are you talking about? I didn't send a letter!"

The old man's smile deepened, eyes twinkling with mischief. "I am a man of many talents, Naruto. I forged your handwriting and sent the message myself. I also have that relic Ashina's lord ring with me, which made it official stamp. The vassals in the Swamp are aware that you will not available for 2 months."

Naruto staggered back, his mind reeling. "WHAT? You... you forged my name? How—His graces's ring? What are you talking about?"

The old man folded his arms, calm as ever. "Yes. I once knew Ashina. Before he died, he entrusted his lord's ring and the key to Uzushio to me. He took a ring from the small sack he always keep around—the ring was with a ruby in the centre, a swirl of Uzushio inside the gem. You are not worthy of this yet."

Naruto's breath came in shallow gasps, his world spinning. "His Grace... entrusted you? How do you know him? The ring... the key...?"

The old man nodded. "Indeed. You are not yet ready for such responsibilities, but when the time comes, you will understand why."

The old man's voice broke through his thoughts. "Hence, the real training of Naruto Uzumaki begins. Not the training of a shinobi. But the training of a monk."

Naruto, for the first time in months, felt something stir within him—something not born of frustration or despair, but of understanding. He had been lost, but now, perhaps, he had found a new path. One that required not power, but patience. Not control, but acceptance.

And so, in the heart of the forest, far from the elemental nations, the once-warrior began his journey anew—not as a shinobi, but as a disciple of stillness but with intensity.

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Stay tuned for the next chapter of NTLHOS.

AN:

This has truly been one of the most challenging chapters I've ever written! 💭 I really struggled to find the right words to convey the depth and complexity of Naruto's spiritual journey in this pivotal moment. Though it may not seem filled with action or political intrigue, this chapter is far from filler—it's a turning point that will ripple through the next arcs in meaningful ways. 🌿

✨ I hope this chapter gives you a fresh perspective and prepares you for the deeper narrative unfolding ahead. Thank you so much for your patience and unwavering support. Please comment—I'm eager to hear how many of you like or connected with this chapter and the direction the story is taking! 💬🙏💫

Don't forget to comment and like—your thoughts mean everything! 😊❤️

Join ThirdFireTriden on Pa(tre)(on) the link is in description or type my name in google search with pat (tre) on remove the space and bracket!

NTLHOS: Chapter 65: Realisation And Transformation IS OUT!

NTLHOS: Chapter 66: The Game Is ONN IS OUT!

NTLHOS: Chapter 67: A Storm Is Always Remains A Storm. IS OUT !

NTLHOS: Chapter 68: New threads of Influence is out!

NTLHOS: Chapter 69: Strategy- The Great Heist IS OUT!

NTLHOS: Chapter 70: Wrath of Darkness IS OUT!

NTLHOS: Chapter 71: "Echoes of Thunder IS OUT!

NTLHOS: Chapter 72: The Silent Rebellion IS OUT!

NTLHOS: Chapter 73: Glimpse of the Kami no Shinobi IS OUT !

NTLHOS: Chapter 74: Tempest of Despair and Hope IS OUT! 

NTLHOS: Chapter 75: The Great Assembling IS OUT!

NTLHOS: Chapter 76: The Whirlpool's Dominions IS OUT!!! (New)

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