Seven Years Old – The Decision
At seven, the village still did not see him as anything beyond useless .
That invisibility became his greatest shield.
Kumogakure was loud as thunder overhead, shinobi shouting orders, sparring fields echoing with impacts but the outskirts were quiet and forgotten.
The orphanage sat in that silence like a scar that never healed.
He learned early that power in this world did not come from wishing.
It came from conditioning.
Might Guy was not born special. Rock Lee was not born gifted. They broke themselves every day until their bodies had no choice but to become weapons.
If chakra would not answer him,
Then flesh would.
He woke before dawn.
Every day.
While the other children slept, he slipped out barefoot into the cold grass behind the orphanage.
He ran first, relying on his previous life's basic training experience first
Just ran every day.
Around the outer perimeter. Over rocks that cut his feet.Up inclines that burned his lungs. Through rain that turned the ground to mud. When his legs shook, he slowed down but he never stopped moving .
When he vomited, he wiped his mouth and kept moving.
After running came basic calisthenics.
Push-ups until his arms burn and he collapsed.
Squats until his thighs screamed.
Planks until his core spasmed.
He counted everything.
Not reps but the failures
Because every failure was a boundary, and boundaries existed to be pushed.
At night, while others slept, he stretched. Carefully. Obsessively.
He forced flexibility into muscles that resisted, knowing that one day speed would depend on range of motion, not chakra-enhanced bursts.
By eight, his hands were permanently rough
By nine, his posture had changed.
By ten, he moved differently.
Caretakers noticed but they didn't understand.
"He's just… tough," one said.
They had no idea that he was training in secret and now that his body was conditioned it's time to summon elektra for more professional training...
Lessons in Shadow
She never trained him during the day.
Night was better and safer.
They met beyond the orphanage, in broken stone fields and abandoned watch paths. No system prompts. No flashy UI.
Just instruction.
Lesson One: Movement
"You're too loud," Elektra said flatly.
He bristled. "I don't make noise."
She stepped behind him without warning and tapped the back of his knee. He stumbled like a clown.
"You announce intent," she corrected. "Noise starts in the mind."
She made him walk for hours.
Every footstep placed deliberately. Weight distributed. Breath aligned with motion.
"Speed comes later," she said. "First is absence of presence ."
Lesson Two: Killing Is Not Anger
The first time he practiced strikes, he was sloppy as hell .
Fast and Desperate.
Elektra disarmed him in less than a second and pressed a blade to his throat.
"If you hate them," she said quietly, "you hesitate."
He froze.
"I don't.. "
"You do," she interrupted. "You look to justify and that's a weakness."
She pulled the blade away.
"Killing is a task," she continued. "Nothing more. Nothing less. Do it cleanly or don't do it at all."
That lesson stayed with him.
Lesson Three: Escape Matters More Than Death
She taught him how to leave.
Where shadows thinned.
Which routes animals avoided.
How weather changed how sound travels
"Anyone can end a life," Elektra said. "but survivors end patterns."
The system never interfered.
It did not boost him.
It did not heal him faster.
It did not reward effort.
It simply observed.
[Physical Conditioning: Self-Directed]
[Biological Efficiency Increasing]
[Pain Tolerance: Abnormally High]
Pain became a language.
A warning when something would tear.
A signal when growth was occurring.
A threshold when survival was at risk.
He learned to dance on that edge.
Unlike chakra users, he could not brute-force mistakes. Every misstep mattered. Every injury lingered.
So he trained smarter using the knowledge taught by his summon.
Angles, breathing and Momentum.
He studied shinobi from afar, how they moved, how they shifted weight before striking, how their feet aligned before a burst of speed.
He mimicked them at night in empty clearings, shadowboxing against ghosts and minor sparring with elektra when it was safe.
Age Eight – Hunger
Power required points.
Points required him to kill.
The system never pressured him but the locked panels were a constant reminder. Infinite potential sat behind a wall he could only climb by killing.
He didn't rush.
War already soaked the land in blood.
He watched patrols return with fewer members. He heard rumors of massacres, ambushes, missing caravans.
But those deaths were not his.
The system did not care about passive tragedy.
So he began to think like a predator.
Who would not be missed?
Who could not fight back?
Who moved alone?
Merchants.
Travelers.
People who walked the old roads at night, trusting that proximity to Kumogakure meant safety.
He hated himself for how easy the logic came.
He did not summon any weapons from the system store as he was broke when it came to points, so, he had to be creative.
Instead, he searches for tools left behind on training grounds
Cheap ones and used .
Just a reinforced blade no longer than his forearm.
No legendary artifacts. No glowing power.
Just efficiency.
His first target was a man who traveled alone, pushing a small cart loaded with dried goods. No guards. No visible chakra use.
He followed him for two nights.
Learned his habits.
Where he stopped to rest.
How he reacted to sounds.
On the third night, rain fell.
Perfect.
The First Kill
It was fast, clumsy, and terrifying.
His heart pounded so hard he thought it would give him away. His hands shook as he moved closer, mud soaking his legs. The man hummed quietly, unaware his death was near .
When he struck, he missed the ideal angle.
The grown man screamed like a pig .
That sound haunted him.
He panicked but training took over. He tackled low, drove his weight forward, and used gravity the way he'd practiced a thousand times in empty fields.
It ended quickly but not quick enough
When silence returned, he collapsed into the mud, shaking violently.
He Cried at taking a life for the first time
Then laughed hysterically for a few seconds,
Because the system chimed.
[Kill Confirmed]
[Target Classification: Civilian]
[Summoning Points Gained: 3]
Three points.
That was it.
A human life for three points.
The realization crushed something inside him.
And then hardened it.
He buried the body poorly. He knew that but the rain helped. The road was already dangerous and disappearances happened especially during major conflicts..
Still, he avoided the area for weeks.
He didn't summon anything with those points.
He let them sit.
This is the cost, he told himself.
If I don't pay it, someone worse will.
It was a lie.
But it was a useful one for coping with killing..
Ages Nine to Ten – Refinement
He didn't kill often.
That was the key.
One every few months. Sometimes less.
He chose carefully, one weak genin on unsanctioned errands, injured travelers straying from main routes, merchants who hired no protection.
He never attacked near the village.
Never left witnesses and never killed in anger.
Each time, he learned from the small mistakes he made .
How to approach silently.
How to end things faster each time .
How to control his breathing afterward.
The system tracked it all.
[Summoning Points: 21 → 27 → 39]
[Host Psychological Stability: Degrading Slowly]
He ignored that last line.
The Body at Ten
By ten, he no longer looked like an abandoned orphan.
Lean muscle wrapped his frame, dense and efficient. His movements were economical no wasted steps, no exaggerated gestures.
He could outlast children twice his size now
He could run for hours.
He could fall and roll without injury.
Caretakers noticed bruises but assumed it was rough play.
They never suspected nightly discipline forged in pain.
Age Eleven – The Line Moves
Kumogakure tightened security as the war escalated.
Travel routes changed.
Targets became riskier to hunt
So he adapted..
He began using Elektra never to kill directly, but to isolate, distract, and observe.
The kill was always his as needed to get used to taking a life.
The genin he had tracked with the help of his summon was in an. Open clearing about to set up camp, that's when I ordered Elektra to soften him up for me to kill.... And when the genin was weak enough to attack I appeared behind him and plunged the short blade into his exposed neck....
[Kill Confirmed – Genin]
[Summoning Points Gained: 6]
Genin were harder to kill without help as they could use basic Chakra enhancement...
He was injured twice. One broken rib. One deep cut along his thigh.
Both healed slowly.
Pain reminded him he was still mortal.
Twelve Years Old
On the night before his twelfth birthday, he stood on the same cliff overlooking Kumogakure..
Lightning rolled across the clouds.
He checked his status.
[Summoning Points: 112]
[Active Summons Limit: 1]
[Items Panel: Partially Unlocked]
A child with no chakra.
An orphan.
A killer and a unique summoner
He did not feel proud.
He just felt ready.
"The village will start watching me soon," he murmured. "They'll test. Measure. Judge."
He smiled faintly.
"Let them."
Behind him, unseen in the shadows , his summoned guardian knelt in silence.
The storm broke.
And the world kept turning, unaware that something unnatural was growing in its shadow.
....