NARUTO: The Saga of Crimson Monarch

Ely's delicate wings fluttered in the dim light of the dying forest, the soft hum of her power vibrating in the air. Her emerald eyes flicked toward Ares, her gaze calm but determined. "Follow me," she said in a voice as soothing as the breeze. "The path to your first trial lies ahead."

Ares, his mind focused and his body primed for whatever challenge awaited him, nodded silently and followed her. He could feel the weight of her presence, the spiritual energy that resonated with Aelio Island, pulling him toward something greater.

As they journeyed deeper into the woods, the air grew heavier. The once vibrant trees around them seemed to wither, their leaves shriveled and brittle. A cold wind swept through, carrying with it the scent of decay and despair. The path became harder to navigate, the ground uneven and treacherous, as if the land itself was fighting back.

Soon, they arrived at a clearing—a place where the trees were twisted, dead, and broken, their branches reaching toward the sky like skeletal hands. The ground was littered with the remains of monstrous beasts—bones and remnants of creatures long forgotten, their bodies scattered as if they had been torn apart by some primal force. It was a place of agony, where the very air seemed thick with sorrow and regret. In the center of the clearing sat a figure, an eerie presence cloaked in darkness, a king reigning over this forsaken land.

Ares could feel it—the pull of the trial. He had arrived.

Ely paused before the figure, her wings shimmering faintly in the darkness. "This is where your first trial begins," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "Here, you will face the most dangerous enemy—the part of yourself you've buried."

The boy sitting on the throne of bones looked down at Ares. At the center of it all sat a figure—a child, no older than seven. His face was eerily familiar, yet twisted with a look of pride and arrogance that Ares had long buried within himself. The boy's ragged clothes were like a cloak of misery, his skin pale and thin. His hair was dark and matted, falling in messy tangles over his face, and his nails were dirty and broken. He looked like a reflection of Ares from the darkest time in his past—the days when he had struggled to survive in the cold, dark streets filled with garbage, alone and unloved.

The boy's eyes glinted with an unsettling pride as he slowly stood, his posture regal and imposing despite his frail form. His bare feet were stained with the dirt of the world, a painful reminder of the battles he had fought with nothing but his own will to survive.

"You've come, Ares," the boy sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. "You've come to face me. To face the true strength within you. But I already know—deep down, you never truly forgot me. I am your pride. Your hunger. Your past."

Ely's voice, though soft, cut through the tension. "Ares, this is your trial. This is the part of you that you must conquer. This is the Sin of Pride, the strength you buried deep within yourself—the part of you that you've never fully acknowledged."

Ares clenched his fists, his jaw tightening as the boy's mocking smile only grew. The boy stepped forward, his small body exuding an unnatural confidence. "Do you even remember my name, Ares? Do you remember the one who clawed his way through the filth of the streets? The one who survived with nothing but his own will and pride? The one who made you who you are?"

Ares could feel the darkness closing in, the weight of the boy's presence overwhelming him. Every step the boy took seemed to echo in the stillness, his voice mocking Ares with every word.

"You don't remember, do you?" the boy taunted, stepping closer. "You've buried me so deep that you've forgotten the very core of who you are. But I will remind you, Ares. I will remind you that I am the one who survived. I am the strength you deny. I am your past—your sin. I am the pride that will never be erased."

Ares felt the walls around him begin to crack. He had buried his past, convinced that the pain and suffering of his youth no longer had any hold on him. But now, here it was, standing before him as a living, breathing nightmare.

"I never forget you," Ares growled, his voice low but full of determination. "I will face you, and I will conquer you."

The boy grinned, his eyes filled with dark amusement. "Then fight me, Ares. Fight your past. Prove you are stronger than the child you were. Prove you are more than a strength and your pride. Prove you are more than just a survivor."

Without warning, the boy lunged, moving with the speed and power of a beast, each strike landing with the force of a tempest. Ares blocked and countered, but each blow felt like it struck directly at his soul, a reminder of the child he had once been—helpless, hungry, and alone.

The battle raged on, the ground beneath them shaking with each clash. But with every strike, Ares began to feel the truth creeping into his heart. This wasn't just a fight for survival—it was a fight for acceptance. He had to accept this part of himself, this part of his past, in order to move forward.

"I remember you," Ares muttered, his voice hoarse as he fought through the onslaught. "I remember the pain. I remember the struggle. I remember the hunger."

Ares's past self moved first, launching himself with terrifying speed. The boy's small, frail body belied the monstrous strength contained within. His punch landed with the force of a thunderstrike, sending shockwaves through the air. Ares barely managed to raise his arm in defense, the blow rattling his bones and forcing him to stagger backward. His armament Haki flared instinctively, forming a barrier around his arm to absorb the impact. But the power of the strike was nearly enough to send him sprawling.

"Is this all you are?" Ares growled, wiping blood from his lip as he regained his stance. "You're just the past I have to leave behind."

The boy let out a twisted laugh, his grin widening. "You think you've escaped me? I am the hunger that kept you alive! The pride and strength that pushed you forward! Without me, you would have been crushed in those streets! You need me, Ares. You will always need me."

Without warning, the boy's form split into multiple versions of himself, each one an exact replica, all filled with malicious intent. Seventeen twisted versions surrounded Ares, their eyes burning with arrogance and fury.

"You think you can defeat me? You can't even face yourself!" the clones shouted in unison, their voices a distorted chorus of mockery.

The battlefield became a storm of fury. Ares's fists moved like lightning, each blow a destructive force that tore through the clones. His Haki surged with every punch, sending shockwaves that shattered the ground beneath them. But for every clone he destroyed, more appeared in their place, each one filled with the same prideful arrogance.

"You're just a shadow of me!" Ares shouted, sweat dripping down his face. "I've grown past you."

The boy's laughter rang out, growing louder with each passing moment. "You can't escape me, Ares. I am your strength. Your pride. You're nothing without me!"

The battle escalated, both combatants exchanging blows that shattered trees and cracked the earth. Ares's chest heaved with every punch, the strain on his body mounting, but he refused to relent. He had to win—not just for himself, but for everything he had fought for since those dark days in the streets.

The boy's final form loomed before Ares, its eyes burning with fury. "You cannot defeat me," it sneered. "You are nothing without your pride!"

Ares roared, the power of his will and strength surging through his body like an inferno. He unleashed a final, devastating strike, his Haki-infused fist shattering the boy's form. The force of the blow was so immense that the ground beneath them fractured, and the very air itself seemed to shudder.

With the last remnants of the boy's pride dissolving into dust, Ares stood victorious, panting heavily, his body battered but unbroken. The landscape around him began to heal, the dead trees sprouting new shoots of life, the agony and regret that had hung in the air dissipating like fog before the dawn.

The once proud and defiant boy, who had stood tall with arrogance and pride, now knelt in the dirt, his body trembling. His small, frail form was battered and bruised, and his mocking smile had long since disappeared, replaced by a hollow, desperate gaze. Ares stood before him, bloodied and exhausted, his heart heavy with something he could not fully comprehend.

The boy, barely able to keep his eyes open, managed to speak, his voice cracking with pain. "You think you've won... but you haven't," he said weakly, his tone no longer filled with rage, but with the remnants of something far darker—sorrow. "You think you can forget me... but I am you. I am your past... your pain... your survival. You owe everything to me, Ares."

Ares stood silently, his fists still clenched, but his gaze was softer now. The boy's words cut deeper than any blade, and the realization dawned on Ares—the boy was not just his enemy, not just a figment of his past. He was a part of Ares, a reflection of the pain, pride, and struggle that had once defined him. This boy was his very essence—the raw survival instinct that had carried him through his darkest days.

The boy coughed, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, his small hands reaching out to Ares, trembling with desperation. "You can't escape me... You can't escape your past," he whispered. "I was the one who kept you alive... kept you going when you had nothing left. Without me... you'd have died in those streets, a nameless, forgotten child... without purpose."

Ares's eyes filled with unshed tears as he stared at the boy, his mind reeling with the weight of the truth. The memories flooded back—the bitter cold, the hunger, the endless nights of pain and struggle. The boy had been his only companion, the only thing that kept him from succumbing to the darkness. And yet, he had cast him aside, buried him in the deepest corners of his mind, unable to face the agony that came with remembering.

The boy looked up at Ares, his eyes filled with a sorrow so deep it seemed to pierce through the very fabric of time. "I wanted you to remember me, Ares," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I wanted you to acknowledge me... to know that I was the one who made you strong. I wanted you to love me... but you forgot me. You left me behind."

The boy's voice trembled with the weight of his own self-loathing. His hands, once clenched in pride, now reached out in desperate supplication, begging for acknowledgment, for recognition. "I was everything to you. I was your pride. And now... now I'm nothing. A ghost. Forgotten."

Ares's heart shattered as the boy's words echoed in his mind. The truth—the pain—was undeniable. He had abandoned this part of himself, discarded the boy who had fought so hard to survive. And now, that part of him was fading, disintegrating into nothingness.

The boy's body trembled violently, his once proud form beginning to break apart. His skin was withering, his eyes dimming, as though the very life that had once burned so fiercely within him was finally being extinguished.

Ares's knees buckled, and he collapsed to the ground beside the boy, his tears falling freely. "I'm sorry," Ares choked, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm sorry for forgetting you. I'm sorry for leaving you behind." His hand shook as he reached out, gently brushing the boy's matted, dirty hair. "I never meant to forget you. I never wanted to."

The boy's lips parted, and for a fleeting moment, there was a glimmer of recognition in his eyes. He reached out, his hand trembling, and weakly clasped Ares's. "You... remember?" he whispered, as if the very act of remembering was the last shred of dignity he could cling to.

Ares nodded, his voice breaking. "I remember everything. All the pain, all the suffering. You kept me alive, you made me who I am " None" And I... I love you."

The boy's face softened, the anger and pride fading, replaced by an expression of quiet acceptance. "I... was your pride," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "And now... I can rest."

Ares leaned forward, his tears falling onto the boy's fading form. "I will always remember you"None" he repeated, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you. for everything. I will never forget you again."

The boy's form began to disintegrate, his body turning to ash, his last breath slipping from his lips in a soft sigh. "I'm... happy..." he whispered, his eyes closing, his hand slipping from Ares's as his body dissolved into nothingness. "I'm happy to be remembered."

Ares remained kneeling, his heart broken, his chest tight with grief. He sat there for what felt like an eternity, the weight of the boy's death pressing on him, the echo of his words reverberating in his mind.

The jungle around them seemed to pause, the air still, as if holding its breath in reverence. Slowly, Ares stood, wiping his tears away, his body trembling. He had faced his past, confronted the pain and pride that had shaped him, and emerged with a deeper understanding of who he was.

A soft voice broke the silence.

"You have passed the trial, Ares. But what you have gained is more than just strength. You have gained something far greater."

Ares turned, his eyes heavy with the grief of what he had just confronted. Ely hovered before him, her emerald eyes piercing through the darkness, wise and knowing. The flickering light from her wings cast an ethereal glow, illuminating his path forward.

"True strength," Ely continued, her voice soft but firm, "is not in the power to destroy, to crush your enemies beneath your fists. It is in the will to face every hardship, to endure every trial, no matter how dark the road may seem."

Ares stood still, feeling the weight of her words sinking in, the realization slowly dawning on him. He had spent so long thinking that strength was only about overcoming others, about winning battles. But now, in this moment, he understood. The true test of his strength had not been in his physical prowess or in the defeat of his past self. It had been in his ability to confront the very thing he had tried to bury: his regret, his pride, and the boy he once was.

"You will face many trials ahead, Ares," Ely spoke, her voice carrying the wisdom of the island itself. "But now, you have the strength not to fear them. You have the strength to move forward, knowing that you are not bound by your past. Your true strength lies in your heart, in your ability to rise, time and time again, no matter the storm that awaits you."

Ares took a deep breath, his heart heavy but his resolve unshaken. The tears that had once filled his eyes had now dried, leaving behind only a sense of calm and determination. He understood now. The greatest battles were not fought with fists or weapons, but with the soul's strength to stand tall, no matter what came next.

"I will face them," he whispered, his voice steady and full of newfound conviction. "I will face everything. For I now know that I am stronger than my past. I will never forget what I've lost, but I will never let it define me again."

Ely gave a small, approving nod. "Then go, Ares. The path ahead will not be easy, but you will walk it with a strength that no one can take from you."

And with that, the first trial came to an end—not in the victory of a battle, but in the triumph of the spirit. Ares had gained something more valuable than power. He had gained the strength to endure, to rise, and to face any challenge that lay ahead.