NARUTO: The Saga of Crimson Monarch

At the farthest north of reaches of Aelio Island, a frozen wasteland lay beneath a hellish blizzard. The storm raged with furious winds and freezing air, yet Ares pressed forward, his every step heavy with the weight of the journey. Beside him, Ely hovered, her emerald eyes filled with concern as the icy winds whipped around her.

"Ares, are you sure you can face this?" Ely's voice trembled, barely audible over the storm.

Ares didn't pause. His crimson eyes narrowed, his resolve unshaken. "Whatever waits, I'll face it. I've come too far to turn back."

"This is it," Ares murmured,

"The final trial," her voice trembling slightly. "I can guide you no further Ares."

Ares paused for a moment, his sharp gaze turning toward Ely. "What is waiting for me up there?"

Ely hesitated, her wings fluttering slightly. "Something only you can face," she replied, her tone carefully measured. "It will push you to your limit—not just your strength, but your very essence. I can't say more. This is a battle you must face alone."

Her gaze softened as she hovered closer, placing a small, comforting hand on his shoulder. "Just promise me one thing: trust yourself. No matter what happens, don't let fear or doubt take hold. If you stay true to who you are, you'll make it through."

Ares nodded, his expression calm but resolute.

With those words, she drifted back into the blizzard, her form fading into the swirling snow. Ares stood alone now, the mountain peak looming above him, shrouded in darkness and frost.

He gripped his sword tightly and stepped forward, the weight of the trial ahead pressing down on him like the storm itself.

Ares arrived on the frostbitten battlefield, his breath visible in the frigid air. The ancient ground stretched endlessly, a wasteland of ice and jagged rocks illuminated by the pale, cold glow of a distant moon. At the very center of this desolate arena, his opponent awaited—a being so terrifying that even the howling winds seemed to hush in fear.

The figure before him was Ares' mirror, but darker, more twisted. He was cloaked in a shadowy, gray aura that pulsed and writhed like smoke, radiating an overwhelming sense of dread. His face was identical to Ares'—sharp features, piercing eyes—but where Ares' gaze burned with determination, his opponent's eyes gleamed with malice, crimson like fresh blood, as though forged in the fires of hell itself.

A mocking grin stretched across the shadow's face, its edges curling unnaturally, revealing sharp, predatory teeth. His laughter was low and menacing, echoing across the icy plain like the distant growl of a beast. The sound dug into Ares' chest, making the weight of the encounter almost unbearable.

"So, this is the mighty Ares," the shadow sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. It was eerily similar to Ares' own, yet laced with an edge of venomous cruelty. "The hero? The king? Pathetic. You stand before me like an ant crawling to its doom."

The words cut deep, not because they insulted him, but because they came from a face so eerily like his own. Ares' jaw clenched, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword, Ace. His opponent wielded an identical blade—The Legendary weapon once carried by the Pirate King, Gold Roger. The two swords gleamed in the faint light, as though recognizing the battle to come.

The shadow leaned forward slightly, his gaze drilling into Ares, searching for weakness. "Look at you. Struggling to hold back your fear. Tell me, what will you do when you're faced with a version of yourself that has no limits? No hesitation? No mercy?"

Ares took a deep breath, his heart pounding like a war drum. He felt the icy wind bite into his skin, but it was nothing compared to the cold emanating from this dark version of himself. The shadow's aura was suffocating, a blend of malice and raw power that seemed to twist the air around him.

Their eyes locked, a clash of wills as intense as any battle. Ares' Crimson Conqueror's Haki flared with a dark, violent energy—a deep, blood-red hue shot through with violet streaks, a destructive force that rippled through the very air around him. It felt like the air itself would crack open beneath the weight of it. His power was no longer just about dominance; it was a force of nature, a violent storm of destruction that threatened to tear apart everything in its path.

The shadow's aura flared in response, even darker, more intense, pulsing with a crushing, oppressive energy. His own Haki was more than just intimidating—it was suffocating, a force so dense that it seemed to absorb all light, leaving only darkness in its wake. It was an aura so formidable that the very ground beneath their feet trembled, as if even the earth was reluctant to bear witness to the clash of such power.

The frozen ground cracked beneath their feet as their Haki collided, the sheer force of their wills locking in a violent, unrelenting struggle. The shadow's mocking grin widened, his eyes narrowing in twisted amusement. "Oh? You think your Haki can stand against mine? Foolish. I am your doubts, your rage, your pride. Every ounce of darkness you've ever hidden away feeds my power. You cannot defeat me, because I am you!"

Ares raised Ace, the blade gleaming with determination. His grip was steady, but his mind raced. This wasn't just a fight against an opponent—it was a battle against himself, against the very darkness he had fought to overcome his entire life.

"You're wrong," Ares growled, his voice steady and resolute. "You're not me. You're what I've left behind, the part of me that clung to weakness and despair. And today, I'll prove that I've surpassed you!"

The shadow's grin widened, his eyes narrowing in dark amusement. "Then come, Ares. Show me what your courage is worth. Let's see how long you can last before you break!"

They charged at each other, swords clashing with a sound that echoed across the battlefield like a thunderclap. Sparks flew as their blades collided, the raw power of their strikes shaking the ground. Each slash, each block, was a battle of wills, their movements perfectly mirrored as if dancing in a deadly reflection.

Ares fought with a fiery determination, his eyes filled with the light of hope and resolve. His shadow fought with cold, calculated malice, his grin never faltering as he sought to tear Ares apart—physically and mentally.

With every strike, the shadow mocked him. "Is this all you've got? You call this strength and courage?!"

Ares gritted his teeth, his muscles straining as he pushed forward. no darkness, could ever define who he was.

The battlefield became a storm of clashing steel and swirling energy, their auras intertwining like fire and shadow. And yet, even as the battle raged, Ares knew one thing for certain: to defeat this reflection of himself, he would have to overcome more than just his opponent. He would have to overcome the fear that he wasn't strong enough, the doubt that whispered in the back of his mind.

And with that realization, he felt his resolve harden. This wasn't just a battle for survival. It was a battle for his very soul.

"I am your true self!" the Dark Self roared, its voice like thunder, layered with a chorus of anguished screams. "Every doubt, every fear, every moment of despair—you cannot escape me!"

Ares stood tall, his grip tightening on his sword, the gleaming blade cold in the harsh wind. Blood trickled from his brow, freezing against his skin, but his gaze burned with unyielding resolve. His body, battered but unbroken, thrummed with power, his aura crackling as his Armament Haki cloaked him in an impenetrable, blackened sheen.

"You are wrong," Ares growled, his voice low but fierce. "I am not defined by my fears. I am defined by my will to overcome them. And you… are just a shadow."

The Clash of Titans With a roar, the Dark Self lunged forward, its colossal frame crashing through the blizzard. Ares responded with equal ferocity, his footfalls sure and steady as the ice beneath him cracked. The two met with an earth-shattering impact, their blades clashing with a resounding explosion of power.

Steel met steel, sparks flying like a tempest of stars. Ares's sword, infused with his Armament Haki, rang out with each strike, each blow cutting through the storm. His mastery of swordsmanship was evident—precise, deadly, and controlled. The Dark Self countered with a blade forged from dark energy, a weapon that writhed like a living thing, its speed and ferocity a terrifying force to be reckoned with.

The fight unfolded in a blur of motion—Ares weaving through his opponent's strikes, his Observation Haki allowing him to anticipate each deadly swing. His speed was unmatched, his strikes calculated and powerful, but the Dark Self mirrored him with brutal grace, its movements fluid and unnatural.

Ares unleashed a flurry of strikes, his sword cutting through the air with deadly precision, while the Dark Self summoned tendrils of shadow that erupted from the ground, seeking to ensnare him. Ares weaved through the tendrils, his movements a dance of precision. His sword met shadow with glowing steel, his Haki-infused strikes slicing through the darkness with bursts of radiant light.

"You cannot win!" the Dark Self howled, its voice a cacophony of rage. "I am the power you fear to embrace!"

Unleashing Destruction The battlefield trembled as both combatants tapped into their full reserves of power. Ares's blade, now shining with the brilliance of his energy, cleaved through the frozen earth with ease. His mastery over ninjutsu allowed him to summon waves of elemental fury—blasts of fire, torrents of water, and walls of wind—each strike an expression of his will.

The Dark Self, not to be outdone, summoned its own energy, black flames rising from its sword in vicious arcs. The air around it warped, bending to its will, as shadowy tendrils formed into monstrous shapes, seeking to devour everything in their path.

"You cannot defeat me!" the Dark Self screamed, its form flickering with dark energy. "I am your greatest fear made flesh! Embrace your weakness!"

Ares's eyes blazed with fury, the flickering remnants of doubt vanishing like smoke in the wind. "I don't need to be stronger than you," he spat a mouthful of blood, "I only need my caurage and end this now."

The Final Gambit Ares closed his eyes, centering himself amidst the chaos. His memories of Hans, his training, and the countless battles he had fought surged within him. His mastery over Haki, swordsmanship, and ninjutsu converged into a singular moment of clarity.

"When the moment comes, Ares, let your blade speak your truth," Hans's voice echoed in his mind.

Ares's aura surged, his Armament Haki flaring to life as it enveloped him in a protective cocoon of obsidian darkness. The temperature plummeted, the very air growing thick with power. His sword, now blazing with a divine light, hummed with a deadly energy, a harbinger of destruction.

The winds paused, the blizzard retreating in awe of the power that gathered around him. Ares's eyes snapped open, glowing with a fierce intensity as the violet-crimson energy began to swirl around him, an unstoppable storm of raw power.

The Crushing Despair of the Dark Self The Dark Self faltered, its monstrous form flickering as it felt the weight of Ares's power. The ground beneath them cracked, the very fabric of reality bending under the oppressive energy radiating from Ares. The Dark Self's shadowy body trembled, unable to contain the rising fear that surged within it.

"No," it hissed, its voice now tinged with panic. "This… this cannot be."

Ares raised his sword high, his aura boiling like an inferno, swirling with destructive intent. The violet and crimson light grew ever darker, as if consuming the very essence of the world. The Dark Self, for the first time, felt true fear.

"You cannot do this!" the Dark Self cried, its form beginning to unravel. "I am you! I AM YOU! Your pain, your doubt, your fears! You cannot erase me!"

Ares's response was a low, guttural growl. "If it means erasing you, I will endure whatever it takes."

The sky itself seemed to darken as Ares channeled every ounce of power into his final blow. The ground trembled, the air thick with tension. "Divine Departure Shot: Disintegrate!" he roared, his voice echoing like the battle cry of a gladiator in the arena.

The energy, a manifestation of his unyielding will, shot forward with the fury of a vengeful god. The Dark Self's scream split the heavens as the wave of destruction collided with it. The shadowy form disintegrated under the force of Ares's attack, the very essence of its being torn apart by the unrelenting energy.

The Final Curse Even as the Dark Self's form shattered, it let out one final scream of rage and despair. "Curse you, Ares Vasiliev! Curse your caurage, curse your luck… You will never escape me!"

But the curse faded as quickly as it came, consumed by the destructive force of Ares's final blow. The Dark Self was no more—not just defeated, but erased from existence, its memory stripped from the world as if it had never been.

The Aftermath Silence fell over the battlefield. The storm, the blizzard, the darkness—everything had been swept away by the sheer magnitude of Ares's power. The ground was scorched, the remnants of the battle littering the landscape.

Ares stood alone in the center of it all, bloodied and broken, but victorious. His breath came in ragged gasps, his body weary from the battle, but his spirit unyielding. The remains of his sword fell from his hand, dissipating into the cold air.

"It's over," Ares whispered, his voice hoarse, but the weight of his words carried the finality of a warrior's triumph.

The violet-crimson glow flickered one last time before fading into nothingness. Though the battle had been won, Ares felt the heavy toll of what he had unleashed. The power that could destroy worlds.

The wind returned, carrying with it a faint echo, but there was no fear in Ares now. Only a grim certainty.

"I've erased you," Ares said, his voice filled with cold finality. "Not just from this moment, but from all moments. There is no past, no present, no future for you. This is the end."

With a final, defiant step, Ares walked away, leaving the void behind him. His heart was heavy, but the darkness that had once threatened to consume him was no more.

And in that moment, Ares felt a stirring of peace—hard-earned, hard-won peace, forged through the fire of battle and the courage to face his darkest self.