The forest outside Konohagakure was silent, save for the rustle of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl. I stood in a moonlit clearing, my hood discarded, my four eyes—born with me in this world—scanning the shadows for any sign of intrusion. My body, taller and broader than any twelve-year-old's should be, thrummed with the subtle power of my ongoing modifications: a second heart, now nearly fully formed, pulsed in sync with the first, boosting my stamina; my lungs, expanded through weeks of chakra-enhanced growth, drew deep, steady breaths. My goal was clear—to sculpt a body inspired by Ryomen Sukuna's towering, muscular form from Jujutsu Kaisen, not for his four arms or two mouths, which I'd deemed unnecessary in the Naruto world's chakra-based combat, but for his raw physical dominance, a vessel to amplify my chakra like his cursed energy. In Warhammer 40,000, the Astartes' two hearts and three lungs made them superhuman; I was forging something similar, tailored for a shinobi's battlefield.
Team Seven's first mission had sharpened my focus. Naruto's recklessness, Sasuke's rivalry, Kakashi's watchful eye—they were variables in a game I'd learned to play in my past life, strategizing through RPGs like Baldur's Gate. The bandits we'd faced were a tutorial, but real threats loomed—Hiruzen's scrutiny, Danzo's suspicions, and missions that would test my limits. My body needed to be ready, a perfect fusion of strength and chakra control to wield Dismantle, Cleave, and my growing arsenal of genjutsu.
Tonight, I pushed my modifications further. The medical scroll, stolen from Konoha's library, was my guide, its advanced techniques letting me manipulate tissue and bone. Sukuna's form in Jujutsu Kaisen—seven feet tall, rippling with muscle, an imposing giant who radiated menace—was my inspiration. His four arms and two mouths were overkill here; the Naruto world's shinobi relied on speed, precision, and chakra versatility, not redundant limbs or extra mouths for chanting curses. Instead, I focused on height, muscle density, and organ enhancement, each change amplifying my chakra reinforcement.
I channeled chakra into my spine, targeting the growth plates to continue my bone elongation. Pain flared, sharp and deep, but I dulled it with medical ninjutsu, my control honed from months of practice. My height had increased by inches over weeks, now nearing six feet—a giant for a genin. I tested my strength, lifting a boulder twice my weight with ease, my muscles reinforced to mimic the Astartes' dense fibers. My second heart beat stronger, pumping blood faster, letting me sustain chakra reinforcement for longer. My lungs, expanded to near-Astartes capacity, fueled my endurance, each breath powering my body through hours of training.
I didn't need four arms—two were enough when paired with Dismantle's invisible chakra blades, slicing through a nearby tree with a flick of my fingers, or Cleave's contact-based precision, splitting a rock with a single touch. A second mouth was equally unnecessary; my genjutsu, like the Mirror Mirage Technique, spoke through illusion, not words. Inspired by Baldur's Gate's Mirror Image spell, I refined it further, summoning four clones that dodged and weaved, their faint footsteps and subtle gestures—twitching fingers, shifting weight—making them near-indistinguishable from me. I tested it on a fox in the clearing, its eyes darting in confusion before it fled.
My gamer instincts, shaped by Warhammer 40,000's tactical depth, drove my approach. The Astartes were engineered for war, their bodies temples of efficiency. Sukuna's towering frame was a weapon of intimidation, his muscles a foundation for overwhelming power. I combined both, using medical ninjutsu to sculpt a body that could dominate any battlefield. A shadow-based genjutsu, inspired by Shikamaru's technique, froze a bird mid-flight, its wings locked as my illusion weighed on its mind. Another, drawn from Ino's Mind Transfer, flooded a squirrel's senses with chaotic images, leaving it disoriented. Each technique was a piece of my arsenal, enhanced by a body growing closer to Sukuna's ideal—minus the extra limbs.
The next day, Team Seven trained under Kakashi's watchful eye. The mission to the Land of Tea had bonded us, however loosely, and now he pushed us harder. "Teamwork," Kakashi said, his voice lazy but firm. "You're not individuals—you're a unit. Today, you'll spar as a team against me."
Naruto groaned, Sasuke smirked, and I nodded, my mind already mapping strategies. Kakashi was a puzzle, his Sharingan a threat to my genjutsu, but my physical enhancements gave me an edge. We faced him in the training ground, Naruto charging with Shadow Clones, Sasuke flanking with kunai. I hung back, weaving a Mirror Mirage Technique to create decoys, their movements fluid and lifelike. Kakashi's eye darted between them, but he didn't falter, countering Naruto's clones with a water jutsu and dodging Sasuke's strikes.
I moved, my chakra-enhanced speed a blur, my taller frame making each step cover more ground. I tapped the ground near Kakashi with Cleave, the contact-based technique cracking the earth, forcing him to leap back. My second heart kept my stamina high, my lungs fueling long bursts of speed. Sasuke capitalized, launching a fireball, while Naruto's clones swarmed. Kakashi countered effortlessly, but I saw a flicker of approval in his eye. "Not bad," he said, vanishing in a puff of smoke.
After the spar, Naruto panted, grinning. "Man, Archon, you're fast! How do you keep going like that?"
"Training," I said, deflecting. Sasuke's gaze lingered, his suspicion sharper than ever. Kakashi, reading his book, was silent, but I felt his attention like a weight. They were pieces on my board, useful but dangerous. In Warhammer, a squad's strength came from coordination; Team Seven could be that, if I played it right.
That night, back in my shack, I resumed my modifications. I reinforced my muscles, channeling chakra to increase their density, my arms now capable of crushing stone without strain. My height crept upward, my frame broadening, each change bringing me closer to Sukuna's towering menace—without the four arms or two mouths, which I'd discarded as impractical. My second heart pulsed stronger, my lungs drew deeper, amplifying my chakra reinforcement. Dismantle sliced through a log with pinpoint accuracy, Cleave shattered a boulder with a touch, and my genjutsu grew subtler, disorienting a stray cat with a flicker of false shadows.
Hiruzen's test, Danzo's shadow, Kakashi's scrutiny—they were obstacles, but I was ready. My body was becoming a weapon, inspired by Sukuna's muscular dominance and the Astartes' engineered resilience. Team Seven was a crucible, sharpening my skills, but I wasn't their pawn. I was Archon, forging a vessel to carry me to my goals—power, control, freedom—on a path no shinobi could stop.