I woke with a start, jolted by a sound I hadn't heard in four years. A message hovered before my eyes.
System calibration for Player Version T.-3000 completed.
Finally! I'd been waiting for this for so damn long. Now we're in business. I've got a plan for the next eight years—unsurprising, since four years is plenty of time, and I had little else to do but craft sneaky, devious schemes. My thoughts were interrupted by another message.
Would you like to view the message archives for the past four years?
Yes / No
Well, damn! So the system was running in the background this whole time, and over four years, I'd been earning experience, skills, and achievements—they just weren't displayed or active until the calibration finished. That's fantastic news! I wonder how many levels I've got now, what skills I already have, and there must be unallocated experience points to distribute wisely. But that can wait—let's see what's in there first.
The moment I hit "Yes," my entire field of vision was flooded with a dense layer of little envelope icons, each stamped with dates. For a good five minutes, I rolled on the floor, cursing in two languages and flailing my arms. Eventually, I managed to clear the mess, and now, off to the side in my peripheral vision, there blinked a stack of envelopes with a counter showing their total: exactly 17,426. Nearly seventeen and a half thousand messages! Where the hell did that many come from? It'll take me a week to sort through them, even if I only stop for sleep and food.
But let's look at this optimistically. That many notifications means I've gained a ton, and the more I've gained, the stronger I'll become, and the faster I'll exact my terrifying revenge. Oh yeah, I haven't forgotten a thing—everyone will pay for my "happy" childhood so dearly that the Fox will seem like a cute, harmless critter in comparison.
But the very first message dragged my mood down—not just below the baseboard, but somewhere closer to the planet's core.
Detected attempt at mental influence… 100% successful.
Subconscious intrusion detected.
And there were four of those messages—four successful intrusions into my subconscious. They could've planted triggers, figured out who I really am, even erased or rewritten my personality. The next message shattered my last hopes.
Mental triggers successfully installed:
- Loyalty to Konohagakure no Sato.
- Loyalty to the Hokage.
- Reduced aggression toward Konohagakure residents.
- Reduced critical thinking.
- 45% reduction in intelligence level.
- …
The list was pretty extensive, but I didn't read it all—the mere fact of the triggers being planted was enough. The depression that started creeping in was quickly suppressed by Player's Mind, but then came a fit of rage and fury.
— System, what the *#$% is going on here? What's this *&#@ nonsense? Why the *%#! didn't Player's Mind protect me from mental influence? Where's that *?@# promised immunity? — Another wave of calming hit me.
— Ugh, looks like I got a defective or outright pirated version of the system. — With depression kicking in for round two, I sat on the bed to figure out how to live from here.
But I didn't get to wallow long in my bitter fate, defective system, pile of triggers in my head, and the cosmic injustice. A new message interrupted me.
Due to the position of the Moon relative to the Andromeda Nebula and the arrangement of stars in the Canis Major constellation, you are afflicted with the debuff "Sudden Diarrhea." Duration: 2 hours.
— What the hell is this…
— Oh!
— Oh, damn it!
For the next two hours, I tried my best not to completely flush down the toilet, all while fondly recalling the Moon, the nebula, and the Canis Major constellation. Along with my guts, my thoughts cleared up too. I realized I hadn't wiped out the local population solely due to a lack of strength. The desire to raze this village to the ground hadn't gone anywhere either—it only grew stronger with each year. That made me seriously question the presence of those triggers or their effect on me, prompting me to dig deeper into the remaining messages for clarity. And they turned out to be pretty weird.
Detected attempt to exit subconscious… 46% successful.
How am I supposed to interpret that? "46% successful"—does that mean 54% of the intruder is still rummaging around in my subconscious? And why only one attempt to exit when there were four intrusions? That's suspicious. Though, considering who lives in there, maybe it's not so surprising. The next batch of messages lifted my mood to the heavens.
Trigger for loyalty to Konohagakure no Sato destroyed 100%.
And similar messages followed for all the other triggers planted in me. Messages about gaining 5,000 reputation with the colony of brain cockroach-xenomorphs, and reaching the 10,000 cap—indicating fanatical loyalty, love, or respect, depending on the context—made me consider another trip into my subconscious.
I've been to my subconscious before—well, sort of. I peeked in for a minute and bolted back to the real world. Here's how it went down: during one of the fights over my right to eat my own breakfast instead of donating it to the "needy," I took a hard hit to the head from a caretaker. It was so bad I fell into my subconscious. But unlike canon Naruto, I didn't land straight in it—I appeared at its entrance: massive stone double doors, about five meters tall, covered in bas-reliefs of people partially embedded in the gates, with metal rings at my height. The whole structure was set into a wall of absolute darkness.
The sight of that monstrosity killed any desire to go inside. But I steeled myself, gathered my courage, and pulled the rings. The doors opened with a screech but surprisingly easily, revealing a dimly lit corridor with high ceilings, uneven walls, and a thin layer of water on the floor. Everything was coated in a strange black-gray substance, with bizarre formations that looked like a mix of spiderwebs and bones. It painfully reminded me of the Xenomorph lair from the second Alien movie.
But the moment I stepped past the gates, they slammed shut with a boom. I turned to look and noticed an inscription at the top of the doors: "Abandon reason, all ye who enter here." That sent me into a fit of nervous laughter.
— A warning on the back of the gates, hee-hee-hee, and with that message, hee-hee, it's like the entrance to hell, hee-hee-hee, just missing Cerberus, hee-hee-hee. Though I think it was about hope back there.
My laughter stopped cold when I heard a clattering and a sound—part squeak, part roar—from the depths of the corridor. A shadow appeared on the wall at the turn, its shape making me break the lightspeed barrier toward the exit. I flew out of the gates and shut them as fast as I could, wrapping the rings with a thick chain and securing it with a massive padlock.
Once I calmed down a bit, I started thinking about two very important and interesting things. First, where the hell did I get the chain and lock? Second, where's the key, and how am I supposed to get back into my subconscious now?
Later, through meditation, I learned to reach the entrance properly, without needing a heavy blow to the head. But I never managed to pry that damn lock off.
I suspect deep down I didn't believe the creatures in there wouldn't eat me the moment they saw me—that's why I couldn't get inside. Now, thanks to these messages, I'm sure I'm safe. So, in the near future, I'll go make contact with my cockroaches, and maybe take a look at the Fox. I'm curious, after all. But all that comes after I sort through these messages and figure out what I've earned for all my suffering over the past four years.
Reviewing the next 150 messages gave me a nervous tic and a strong urge to strangle their author. They carried no useful or necessary information, but there were a ton of them. For example, from my first day in the hospital:
Param-pam-pam.
Sleeping in your bed: health restored, all negative effects removed.
Param-pam-pam.
You ate: stamina restored, +5 to HP for 1 hour.
That's still tolerable and somewhat useful, but then there's this:
Param-pam-pam.
You shit yourself.
Param-pam-pam.
You've been in shit for 1 hour.
And messages like that, covering every aspect of infant life, piled up considerably. I was about to delete them all without reading, but a message about another mental attack and subconscious intrusion—followed by an exit with minimal damage, just 4%—stopped me. For another hour, I meticulously sifted through this spam, until this popped up:
Param-pam-pam.
Intelligence -1
All my protests got nothing but dead silence from the system. After reviewing another 150 messages, they docked me another point of intelligence. All my attempts to appeal to reason and logic were ignored by the system. It's not logical to deduct intelligence for hard mental work—because I can't call reading these masterpieces anything else. But after another 150 messages, they took yet another intelligence point, and I started cursing the system out loud. My expressive tirade was cut short for technical reasons: due to some stars in a far, faraway galaxy aligning poorly with our Moon, I was sent to contemplate life and the influence of celestial bodies for another two hours.
Crawling out of the now-familiar bathroom (I'd been in this apartment for just over seven hours, four of which were spent in the john), I decided to test a theory that came to me after two hours of philosophical reflection. If something weird happens once, it's a fluke. Twice, it's a coincidence. But three times—that's a pattern. My intuition also hinted that they didn't dock my intelligence on a whim, but for some actions of mine—either because they were wrong or because of my inaction.
I dragged myself to the bed, plopped my weary body onto it, and started testing my theory.
— Uh… System settings, message filter, — I said uncertainly, freezing in anticipation.
A second later, a window with settings appeared, highlighting the "filter" and "message settings" sections. Then came a message about increasing my intelligence and wisdom by 1, and intuition by 2. Except the usual Param-pam-pam sounded different this time—it practically screamed, "Finally, you got it!"
After setting the filter, the number of messages dropped tenfold, and the rest were sorted into categories. Following the timeline, I opened my first earned achievement.
Param-pam-pam.
Congratulations!!!
You've shit yourself 1,000 times and spent 1,000 hours in shit.
You've earned the achievement "Little Stinker."
"Little Stinker":
+15% chance to end up in a stinky situation.
+8% chance to come out of shit clean.
Warning!!!
This achievement can evolve upon meeting special conditions.
Words failed me—just raw, unfiltered emotions, all of them obscene. How am I supposed to live with an achievement like this? It's not even the increased chance of trouble—it's the name and how I got it. I've got the hospital's children's ward staff to thank for this, with their negligent attitude toward their duties, but only in my case. My debt to them just skyrocketed, and now simply killing them won't be enough.
The first skills I gained were a bit of a relief—not amazing, but compared to that first achievement, anything would look better than it could've been. There were only two, but to me, they felt like variations of the same thing.
Param-pam-pam.
Congratulations!!!
Skill created through action: "Dark Lord's Sinister Laugh" – Level MAX.
"Dark Lord's Sinister Laugh":
Causes unease and chills in all who hear it.
Param-pam-pam.
Congratulations!!!
Skill created through action: "Mad Vivisector Scientist's Laugh" – Level MAX.
"Mad Vivisector Scientist's Laugh":
In your execution, causes a nervous tic in a select group of individuals.
+100 reputation with Orochimaru.
The next batch of messages, received in a short span of just three minutes, started with one about taking critical but non-lethal damage. My upgraded Player's Body skill saved me, leaving me with 1 HP and regeneration. That was when a certain someone "accidentally" dropped me.
But the skills I gained? Pure magic. For skills like these, it's worth taking a good hit to the head.
Param-pam-pam.
Congratulations!!!
Skill created through action: "Shinigami's Visage" – Beyond Level.
"Shinigami's Visage":
Induces a bout of superstitious terror in the target.
Skill power ranges from mild discomfort to lethal outcomes, depending on the user's HP, willpower, spirit strength, and level relative to the target.
Param-pam-pam.
Congratulations!!!
Skill created through action: "Killing Intent" – Level 1.
"Killing Intent":
Induces fear, disorientation, and hallucinations in the target.
Skill power depends on the skill level, willpower, and spirit strength of the user relative to the target.
Warning!!!
This skill is compatible with "Shinigami's Visage." When used together, the effect is amplified.
Reading the remaining messages thrilled me to no end. Turns out, I somehow managed to activate and combine the Shinigami's Visage and Killing Intent skills, hitting that bitch with them—and the effect was lethal. I scored 300 experience points, and since it was my first kill, with an opponent far above my level, the experience was tripled. There was even loot—a Soul Crystal. But all that's nothing compared to the satisfaction of revenge fulfilled.
I should probably be wracked with guilt—I killed a person, after all. But I felt good, even pleased. Something's probably wrong with me, and the system confirmed it, noting that I'm taking my first steps toward becoming a Dark Lord.
Param-pam-pam.
You've already mastered the sinister laugh and taken innocent lives without remorse—you're already one foot in the dark side of the force.
P.S.
Just a little more to go: get a full black armor set with a cape and a menacing helmet, gain telekinesis abilities, and most importantly—learn to bake special Cookies.
So she didn't just faint back then—she kicked the bucket. (This is where a sinister laugh should go, but for the sake of staying under the radar, I held back.) Good thing I didn't know that at the time, or I'd have blown my cover during the check, unable to hide my joy. Gaining a cool skill only reinforced my belief in the success of my devious plans. But after closely examining the skill and the situation in which I used it, I had to admit it wasn't as awesome as I thought. The description made it clear that the skill's power depends on factors like HP, willpower, spirit strength, and level. Obviously, she outclassed me in every way, so how did I manage to take her out? I didn't buy the idea that the stronger my opponent, the easier it is to scare them to death. After much thought, I concluded it all came down to HP—specifically, its minimum value of 1 HP at the moment I used the skill. It made sense: the closer to death I am, the stronger a skill tied to the god of death becomes. The system confirmed my reasoning, awarding me +1 to intelligence and wisdom.
After that news, the message about gaining a meditation skill felt less significant. I had to dig into the filter again, removing messages about killing mosquitoes and the experience gained from them. The last achievement I received slightly soured my improved mood.
Param-pam-pam.
Congratulations!!!
You've killed 1,000 mosquitoes with particular cruelty and cynicism.
You've earned the achievement "Fumitox" – that's why they don't bite.
"Fumitox":
Creates a continuous aura around your body, 2 cm from the skin, that instantly kills all small insects.
-1,000 reputation with members of the Aburame clan.
Once again, the ability is awesome—no more worrying about being bitten to death at night—but the name is a bit annoying. With that, I finished sorting through the messages and decided to deal with the rest tomorrow with a fresh head. I collapsed into bed and fell asleep.