Ashborn awakened to find himself standing in what appeared to be an endless sewer, the dimly lit corridors stretching in all directions. He stood still, his presence alone warping the space around him. Before him, a massive cage loomed, thick bars sealing away an enormous beast.

Inside, curled up and breathing heavily, lay the Nine-Tails, Kurama. The great fox was asleep, but his ears twitched, sensing something foreign within the space.

Ashborn's expression remained unreadable. A being such as this barely registered as a shadow in his previous life. With a mere flick of his fingers, his aura pulsed out, subtly shaking the space around them.

Kurama's eyes snapped open. His pupils shrank, and he immediately let out a monstrous roar that echoed through the sewer.

"WHO DARES ENTER MY DOMAIN?!" His voice thundered, laced with fury and malice.

Ashborn stood unfazed, his gaze impassive.

"Identify yourself," he demanded, his voice firm yet carrying an ancient authority that pressed against the very fabric of the seal.

Kurama snarled, his massive claws scraping against the ground as he bared his fangs. "You dare order me, human?! I will—"

Ashborn sighed. He snapped his fingers, and in an instant, the entire sewer was consumed by utter darkness. The oppressive weight of nothingness filled the space, making even Kurama freeze. He had been caged for years, but he had never once felt such an overwhelming force.

"I will ask again," Ashborn's voice came, this time deeper, darker, filled with something Kurama couldn't quite comprehend. "Identify yourself."

Kurama, feeling the encroaching suffocation of the void, hesitated. "I am the Kyūbi, the Nine-Tailed Fox… Kurama, for those I allow to call me such." His voice, though proud, held an edge of caution now.

Ashborn's gaze bore into him. "And why are you inside this boy's body?"

Kurama huffed. "Shouldn't you introduce yourself first, intruder?" Despite his underlying fear, his pride wouldn't allow him to be cowed so easily. At worst, if this entity killed him, he would simply reincarnate in a few years—though the thought unsettled him. He had never actually died before.

Ashborn studied him for a moment before inclining his head slightly. "I apologize. I am the King of the Dead… no, I am Death itself. I am also the greatest fragment of Light. I am the Monarch of Shadows—Ashborn."

Kurama's eyes narrowed. The name meant nothing to him, yet the weight behind it sent a chill down his spine.

Ashborn continued, looking around. "It seems you have not heard of me. That confirms it—I am no longer in my own universe. I can feel the laws of this reality deteriorating at an alarming rate. It is as if the creator of this world perished long ago, leaving none to maintain it."

Kurama frowned. He barely understood what Ashborn was saying, but something about his words unsettled him.

"Well," Ashborn said, dismissing the darkness with another snap. The sewer returned to normal, though an eerie silence lingered. "Tell me about this world."

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Still wary, Kurama sighed before answering. He spoke of everything he knew—the origin of the Tailed Beasts, the Sage of Six Paths, the Warring States, the rise of the shinobi, and his eventual sealing. He spoke until there was nothing left to say.

Ashborn absorbed the information, though he found little of it impressive. Still, this world had its unique charms.

His gaze shifted. Through the veil of the subconscious, he observed Naruto's sleeping form. "What can you tell me about the boy?"

Kurama hesitated before speaking. He told Ashborn all he knew about Naruto—the hardships he faced, the loneliness, his unwavering spirit.

Ashborn listened, contemplating.

Kurama then asked, "May I ask something in return?"

Ashborn glanced at him. "Speak."

"You mentioned you weren't from this universe. Can you tell me about yours?"

Seeing no reason to refuse, Ashborn nodded. He spoke of the Supreme Being, the war between the Rulers and Monarchs, and his own origins.

Kurama listened intently. "How old are you exactly?"

Ashborn chuckled. "Do you think a thousand years is old?"

Kurama huffed. "For humans, yes. For me and my siblings, it is… a respectable age."

Ashborn's expression darkened with something ancient. "I have lived for hundreds of millions of years—perhaps even longer. I was there at the dawn of existence."

Kurama stared at him, momentarily at a loss for words. He had thought himself old, but compared to this being… he was nothing.

Ashborn continued, his voice carrying the weight of eternity. "Every single one of those years was spent in battle. At first, I fought for the Rulers, as the brightest fragment of Light. But when they betrayed the Supreme Being, I stood alone against them. I was struck down and should have perished. Yet, in death, I found my true self."

Kurama shuddered slightly at the depth of his words.

"I embraced my power. I joined the Monarchs, raising the dead in my wake. But even then, I knew the war would never end. And so, I chose a successor. I opened the Land of Eternal Rest one last time for myself and slept forever..."

Ashborn abruptly stopped, his expression shifting. A powerful aura erupted from him, blanketing the entire world.

Kurama tensed. If he were not connected to the world through chakra, he wouldn't have sensed it at all—but he did. And it terrified him.

"What is it?" he asked.

Ashborn's eyes narrowed. "In my universe, I was more or less considered the strongest… but only 'more or less.'" His voice grew grim. "Because there was one other—one being who stood almost as my equal in opposition. If I was Death, he was Destruction."

Kurama swallowed. "Who?"

Ashborn exhaled slowly. "The Dragon King. The Monarch of Destruction. Antares."

A deep silence followed.

"So," Ashborn murmured. "If I am here… then that means he is too."

He let out a sigh. "Well. Not my problem."

He turned to Kurama. "I should be in eternal rest, yet here I am. So, I will do the next best thing." He snapped his fingers. The sewer space shifted, transforming into a vast landscape—mountains, rivers, endless skies. A world within the seal.

Kurama looked around in astonishment.

Ashborn nodded. "This space is now mine. Do as you will with it. Consider it… sub-rent for sharing this place."

He stepped back, his form beginning to dissolve into the vastness of his new domain.

"Do not wake me. Not even if the world is ending. Unless Antares awakens—then, and only then, may you call upon me."

Kurama blinked. "Wait! How will I recognize him?"

A voice echoed from the fading darkness. "Tall. Red-haired. An overwhelming air of arrogance. And a tendency to destroy everything in sight. You'll know him when you see him."

And then, Ashborn was gone.

Kurama sat there, alone in the vastness of his new domain, exhaling slowly.

"…Well. This isn't that bad."

Elsewhere, in another subconscious realm, another entity stirred.

A deep chuckle resounded.

"Well, well… would you look at that? The old man Ashborn is here too." A smirk formed. "That bastard. Even after his inheritor killed me twice, he couldn't maintain me in the Land of Eternal Rest."

Crimson eyes gleamed in the darkness.

"Well. Should I make this boy my vessel? Or my inheritor?"

Another chuckle. "He has quite the tendency for destruction… it worked for Ashborn with that Jinwoo kid. Why not me?"

A snap of fingers. And then, silence.

The Dragon King went to sleep.