Red Haired Supremacy

Shanks stood in a clearing at the edge of the forest, just a few hundred meters from the valley. The trees swayed gently in the wind, but the air around him was charged with tension.

In his right hand, he held Gryphon, his trusted blade. Without hesitation, he began forming hand seals using his right hand. As he moved through the sequence, lightning chakra surged through the sword, crackling to life. Sparks danced along the blade's surface, and the energy began to crawl up his arm, enveloping his right hand and forearm.

The lightning continued to spread, climbing to his shoulder and across the right side of his chest. But then—suddenly—Shanks felt a disruption. The chakra began to fluctuate, unstable and wild. His control slipped for a moment, and sensing the danger, he released the technique. The lightning covering his body and sword fizzled out and vanished, leaving only silence.

He exhaled sharply, grounding himself. Inhale. Exhale. Focus.

Without hesitation, he began again. Hand seals flashed once more, and lightning erupted to life across Gryphon. It surged from the sword to his hand, then up his arm, spreading faster and more evenly than before. It climbed past his shoulder, across his chest, and flowed over his back. His upper body crackled with raw energy, the lightning dancing like a living creature.

Then, gradually, the chakra extended downward—first to his waist, then to his legs—until his entire body was cloaked in a sheath of lightning. From head to toe, Shanks was engulfed in the electric aura. Gryphon, too, shimmered with high-density lightning chakra, crackling violently in the still air.

The ground beneath him began to crack, unable to withstand the pressure of his concentrated chakra. The very air around him shimmered with distortion, bending and warping with heat and energy.

He had done it.

At long last, Shanks had created the technique he had been striving toward for over a year. His body and blade were now one with lightning.

Then, in a flash, he moved.

To the untrained eye, he simply vanished—only to reappear fifty meters ahead, standing before a tall tree as if he had teleported. In reality, his speed had become so great that it defied ordinary perception.

This was the birth of his ultimate technique.

Shanks deactivated the technique, and the crackling aura of lightning faded from his body. He exhaled slowly, calming his breath as the last sparks dissipated into the air.

"Finally," he murmured to himself, a faint smile forming on his lips. "I've succeeded in creating the technique I've been striving toward all this time. Thirty-two hand seals... it's a lot, but with enough practice, I'll reduce that number. It's only natural—after all, this move is still in its infancy."

He paused for a moment, gazing down at his hand as faint wisps of residual lightning danced along his fingertips. The technique was powerful—there was no doubt about that—but now that he had created it, it deserved a name worthy of its potential.

Throughout the process of developing it, he had considered several possibilities. But without the technique fully formed, he had never committed to one. Now, standing at the edge of his accomplishment, it was time to decide.

He closed his eyes and let the name rise from his mind, deliberate and clear.

"Lightning Release: Thunder God's Sword."

The name echoed through the forest clearing, bold and resolute. It was grand—perhaps even audacious.

Yes, he knew it was bold to invoke the name of a god. But that was exactly his intent. One day, he wanted this technique—this very swing of his sword—to embody the wrath and power of a thunder god. When people heard the name, he wanted it to strike fear and awe. He wanted it to become a symbol—an idea.

A sword strike that could cleave mountains. A flash of lightning that could silence the skies.

He wasn't there yet. But he would be.

To achieve that vision, he would need to refine this technique to perfection—cut down the hand seals, increase its power, stabilize its output, and push his physical limits even further. It would take time, effort, and unwavering resolve. But Shanks was confident.

He had already come so far. And with the help of the system, he was certain he would reach even greater heights.

This was just the beginning.

…

After completing his new technique, Shanks activated his Observation Haki, allowing his senses to stretch across the forest. Within moments, he located Erza—surrounded by the other Uzumaki children.

Today marked not just the creation of his own exclusive ninjutsu, but another major milestone as well. After a full year of tireless research and experimentation—led primarily by him and Erza—they had finally succeeded in recreating the Human-to-Human Summoning Technique. Although the book they had found contained instruction, it lacked crucial details. Reconstructing the technique from theory to practical use had taken every ounce of their combined intellect and perseverance. The rest of the children had contributed where they could, observing and learning from the sidelines, but it was Shanks and Erza who had carried the burden of recreating the technique.

Without hesitation, Shanks vanished from his position in a flash, reappearing seconds later beside Erza and the others.

In front of her, a large summoning scroll lay fully unrolled across the ground. A complex circular summoning pattern—freshly drawn, intricate, and precise.

Sensing his arrival, Erza turned to face him, her expression focused yet excited.

"Onii-chan," she said, "I've made the final modifications we discussed yesterday. The adjustments to the chakra channels and the secondary seals—everything is in place. Right now, we have over a 90% chance of success."

Shanks gave a firm nod, his eyes scanning the summoning circle.

"Good. Then let's proceed."

The moment had come. A year's worth of dedication, study, and sacrifice—all leading to this. Whether they succeeded or failed, the next few moments would decide.

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