Uchiha power in HxH world - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: The Saitama Regimen and the Otaku’s Specialist Nen

When I woke up the next morning, the very first thing I noticed wasn’t the dull ache of Killua’s slash wound, nor the oppressive chill of the Zoldyck estate’s air conditioning. It was the distinct, highly unusual sensation of my own bedsheets.

They felt… looser.

I rolled out of the massive, reinforced king-sized bed, my feet hitting the cold hardwood floor with a heavy thud, though perhaps a fraction less heavy than yesterday. I waddled over to the floor-to-ceiling mirror next to my server racks.

I was still fat. There was no getting around that undeniable, gravitational truth. I still looked like a pale, disgruntled beanbag chair shoved into silk pajamas. But the silhouette had changed. The aggressive, spherical bloat around my midsection had receded just enough to allow me to see the tips of my own toes without having to lean forward. My face, while still plump and dotted with stress acne, had lost a bit of its doughy softness, giving my jawline a faint, hypothetical suggestion of existing.

“Agility eight,” I murmured, a slow, sinister grin spreading across my face.

The system was a miracle worker. It wasn’t just burning calories; it was aggressively restructuring my cellular makeup to match my numerical stats. At this rate, I wouldn’t just survive the Zoldyck family—I might actually end up looking like a proper anime antagonist instead of the comic relief.

But I couldn’t get complacent. I was still Level 5. I was still a bug that Illumi could step on without breaking his stride.

I needed EXP. And I needed it now.

I stretched my arms, feeling a strange, coiled energy in my muscles. My physical attributes had increased significantly yesterday. Four points in Strength meant I could theoretically lift 2 tons. Eight points in Agility gave me the balance and cellular efficiency to actually use that strength without snapping my own tendons.

“Let’s see what this body can actually do,” I muttered.

I dropped to the floor, getting into a pushup position. Yesterday, merely attempting a sit-up had nearly induced my third heart attack. Today, I braced my core, lowered myself, and pushed.

I went up. Smoothly. Effortlessly.

I blinked, genuinely shocked. I lowered myself again, bringing my chest an inch from the carpet, and pushed back up. Two. Three. Four.

I checked my system interface. My fatigue meter, which had been resting comfortably at 0%, ticked up exactly one single percent.

‘Wait. One percent for four pushups?’ I paused in the plank position, my mathematically gifted 18-Intelligence brain instantly running the numbers.

If four pushups equaled one percent of my maximum fatigue… that meant I could perform a staggering four hundred pushups before my body entered total muscular failure. For a guy carrying around a solid hundred kilos of excess blubber, that was nothing short of superhuman.

A manic giggle escaped my lips. I didn’t stop. I settled into a rhythm, pushing the earth away from me. The first twenty were easy. By thirty, I started sweating. By forty, a familiar, burning lactic acid buildup began to scream in my shoulders, but the sheer, raw power granted by the System forced my muscles to comply.

I hit fifty.

‘Ding!’
[Continuous Effort Registered: 50 Pushups]
[EXP +1]

“Only one?” I wheezed, my arms trembling. “Stingy system.”

But I didn’t stop. I pushed through the burn, hitting one hundred pushups before collapsing onto my stomach. Another ‘Ding!’ chimed in my head. Another 1 EXP.

I rolled over, panting, but I didn’t let my heart rate drop. I scrambled to my feet and started doing squats. My massive thighs burned like they were being roasted over an open fire, but my joints—reinforced by my newly acquired stats—held firm. One hundred squats netted me another 2 EXP.

I threw myself on my back. One hundred sit-ups. Another 2 EXP.

I checked my fatigue. It was sitting at roughly 35%. I still had gas in the tank.

“Alright,” I gasped, wiping a waterfall of sweat from my eyes. “Cardio. The natural enemy of the otaku. Let’s do this.”

I left my room, stepping out into the cavernous, stone-paved hallways of my sector. The Zoldyck estate was so absurdly massive that walking from one wing to another was considered a hike. I started to jog.

It wasn’t a graceful jog. It was a heavy, thundering, elephantine march that echoed loudly off the ancient walls. But I kept moving. I jogged past suits of armor, priceless Ming vases, and confused, highly trained servants who immediately plastered themselves to the walls to avoid the sweating, red-faced bowling ball barrelling down the corridor.

I ran until my lungs felt like they were filled with broken glass. I ran until I tasted copper in the back of my throat. I estimated the distance utilizing the estate’s blueprints stored in Milluki’s flawless memory. Ten kilometers.

I finally collapsed against a marble pillar near the entrance of the minor dining hall, sliding down to the floor in a heap of hyperventilating agony.

‘Ding!’
[Continuous Extreme Effort Registered: 10km Jog]
[EXP +2]

I pulled up the system screen, my eyes blurry from the sweat.

Level: 5 (9/21)
Fatigue: 91%

I had gained 8 EXP from a morning workout that would have literally killed me twenty-four hours ago. It was a massive haul, but it also cemented a depressing reality. As expected in any RPG, the higher level you reach, the harder it becomes to level up. The EXP scaling was starting to curve.

I lay there on the cold marble, trying to remember how to breathe, when the silent, familiar presence materialized to my left.

“Master Milluki,” Kasuga’s voice was perfectly modulated, betraying absolutely none of the utter bewilderment she must have been feeling at seeing the family’s resident shut-in doing a marathon in his pajamas. “Breakfast is prepared. Though… do you require medical assistance?”

I cracked one eye open, glaring at her with all the venom I could muster while sounding like a dying asthmatic.

“Do I look like I need a doctor, Kasuga?” I wheezed, playing the role of the arrogant, short-tempered brat to perfection. “I’m… I’m metabolizing my stress. Killua thinks he’s so tough? If Illu-nii doesn’t kill him, I’m going to rip his stupid white hair out myself. I need to be in peak condition for revenge.”

It was a completely unhinged excuse, but in the Zoldyck family, psychotic sibling rivalry was practically a love language.

Kasuga bowed deeply. “Of course, Master Milluki. Your dedication to familial vengeance is truly inspiring. The chefs have prepared another portion of Class-D Magical Beast, as per your recent dietary adjustments.”

“Good,” I grunted, using the pillar to pull my trembling, heavy body up to my feet. “Help me to the chair before I have you fired for incompetence.”

The breakfast was just as incredible as the dinner had been. I devoured the roasted meat, letting the warm, potent energy of the magical beast flood my exhausted system. My muscles soaked up the nutrients like dry sponges in a monsoon.

As the last bite went down, the system prompt appeared.

[Convert to EXP or Store as Fat?]

“Convert,” I thought viciously.

The heavy, bloated feeling vanished, replaced by a rushing wave of heat.

‘Ding!’
[EXP +12]

‘Ding!’
[Level Up!]

I let out a long, satisfied burp, ignoring Kasuga’s slight twitch in the corner of the room. I had hit twenty-one EXP.

I pulled up the stat distribution screen. I had five free points. I didn’t hesitate. I dumped every single one of them into Vitality.

—

Name: Milluki Zoldyck

Bloodline: Uchiha Lv1 (0%)

Level: 6 (0/28)

Affinity: Fire Lv3, Yin Lv5, Yang Lv2

…

Health: 60/60

Chakra: 40/40

Fatigue: 0%

…

STR: 4

AGI: 8

VIT: 9

INT: 18

PER: 4

…

Skill: Sharingan Lv1

—

As the points locked in, a deep, resonant warmth settled into my bones. The agonizing burn in my legs from the ten-kilometer jog vanished instantly. The micro-tears in my muscles fused. The fatigue meter reset to an absolute zero. My Health jumped to 60, and my Chakra pool expanded to 40.

The logic behind putting everything into Vitality was simple min-maxing economics.

Vitality dictated life force, stamina, and physical durability. It decided how fast I got tired after doing physical efforts. The math was linear: higher Vitality meant a larger stamina pool. A larger stamina pool meant I could do longer, more intense training sessions before hitting 90% fatigue. And more training meant more EXP.

I was building the engine that would eventually run my cheat codes.

“Clean this up, Kasuga,” I ordered, pushing myself away from the table. My body felt incredibly light, buzzing with fresh, boundless energy. “I’m going back to my quarters. Do not disturb me unless Papa explicitly calls for me.”

“Understood, Master Milluki.”

I waddled back to my room, locking the heavy, reinforced steel door behind me. I threw myself onto my bed. Despite my fatigue being at zero, my stomach was still physically full from the sheer mass of the meat I had consumed before the system broke it down. Doing any more physical exercise right now was out of the question; I’d just end up vomiting premium beast meat all over my expensive carpets.

I needed a different approach. Physical exertion wasn’t the only way to exert effort.

I brought up the system interface, my eyes drifting down to the very bottom of the screen.

Skill: Sharingan Lv1.

The legendary eyes of the Uchiha. The power that made ninja nations tremble in fear. I had it. It was right there, sitting dormant in my genetic code.

I closed my eyes, focusing on the bridge of my nose, and mentally commanded the skill to activate. I tried to pull that warm, thrumming energy—my Chakra—up toward my optic nerves.

A sharp, electric shock instantly zapped the back of my eyes, causing me to wince and rub my temples. A bright red error message flashed across my system panel.

[WARNING: Activation Failed.]
[Host Chakra capacity is insufficient. Minimum requirement: 100 CP (Genin Class) for single-tomoe manifestation.]
[Note: Sustained usage consumes 1 CP per minute. Effect grants 2x multiplier to PER (Visual Processing and Accelerated Thought only. No effect on other senses.)]
[Current CP: 40/40]

I sighed, a long, exasperated sound escaping my lips.

“Of course,” I muttered to the empty room. “Nothing is ever free.”

It made perfect sense according to the lore. The Sharingan was a massive drain on Chakra. Only those whose reserves had crossed the Genin threshold could safely activate it without suffering immediate physical backlash like bleeding from the eyes or temporary blindness. And according to my system’s internal scaling, the Genin chakra bracket was between 100 to 499 units.

I was sitting at 40 units. In ninja terms, I was currently a toddler at the Ninja Academy swinging a wooden kunai.

I scrolled through the system menus, looking for an alternative. My eyes landed on a grayed-out tab labeled [Library]. A treasure trove of jutsu, theoretically.

I tapped it.

[Feature Locked. Unlocks at Level 10.]

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. I was Level 6. That meant I had to grind out four more agonizing levels before I could even learn how to spit a basic fireball or walk on walls. The physical training was great, but I needed something I could grind passively. Something that didn’t require me to blow out my knees jogging.

I leaned back, staring at the ceiling, utilizing my 18-Intelligence to run through every single piece of ‘Naruto’ lore I had obsessively memorized in my past life.

If I couldn’t learn a jutsu from the system yet, I had to do it manually. I had to use the basics. What was the very first, most fundamental Chakra training method they taught in the academy?

My eyes snapped open. ‘The Leaf Concentration Exercise.’

It was the practice of focusing chakra to a single point on the body—usually the forehead—to make an object stick to it without using physical adhesives or balance. It taught chakra control, preventing the user from wasting energy.

I didn’t have any leaves in this hermetically sealed gamer cave, but I had plenty of trash. I reached over to the floor and tore a small, circular piece of paper off an empty potato chip wrapper.

I lay flat on my back, placed the torn piece of foil-lined paper dead center on my forehead, and closed my eyes.

“Alright,” I whispered. “Just pull the energy up.”

I focused on the warm pool of energy in my stomach. I imagined it flowing like water, creeping up my chest, up my neck, and pooling directly beneath the skin of my forehead. I tried to mentally “grab” the paper with the energy.

For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then, the paper fluttered and slid off my sweaty skin.

I grabbed it, slapped it back on my forehead, and tried again. Harder this time.

Suddenly, a strange, magnetic pulling sensation sparked right between my eyebrows. I let go of the paper. It didn’t fall. It stuck to my forehead as if glued there, vibrating slightly from the erratic flow of my untrained energy.

A massive, golden notification exploded across my vision.

‘Ding!’
[Hidden Skill Unlocked: Chakra Control Lv0 (0/100)]
[Host Affinity detected: Yin Lv5]
[Passive Effect Applied: Yin Release governs spiritual energy, imagination, and learning comprehension. Host gains 16x EXP multiplier for all energy manipulation training.]

My jaw dropped, almost breaking my concentration and dropping the paper.

Sixteen times multiplier?

I kept the energy focused, holding the paper in place, and watched the system log tick. After exactly sixty seconds of holding the paper, a notification popped up.

[Chakra Control EXP +16]

I let out a sharp, genuine laugh. This was absurd. This was completely, utterly broken.

It meant that just by lying here on my bed, holding a piece of trash to my forehead, I was going to reach Level 1 Chakra Control in less than ten minutes.

It perfectly mirrored the lore, too. Those with high Yang affinity—like Naruto Uzumaki or Hashirama Senju—were blessed with gargantuan, almost bottomless reserves of raw Chakra and physical stamina. They could spam massive, destructive jutsu all day long.

But those with high Yin affinity—like Sasuke Uchiha or Kakashi Hatake—were the opposite. They had smaller chakra pools, getting exhausted after a few high-level jutsu, but their learning speed, precise control, and ability to master thousands of different techniques were practically unrivaled. The Uchiha were the absolute masters of Yin.

Having a massive chakra pool was objectively better in a prolonged fight, sure. You could make mistakes and just throw more energy at the problem. Sasuke constantly ran out of chakra in his early fights, whereas Naruto could just summon two thousand shadow clones and call it a day.

But I didn’t have a choice in the matter. I didn’t have the Ultimate Uzumaki System, or the Ultimate Senju System. I had the Uchiha system. I had to play the hand I was dealt, which meant I was going to be an insanely fast learner with a massive arsenal of techniques, relying on precision and efficiency rather than brute force.

I lay there, hyper-focused, the foil wrapper vibrating aggressively on my forehead as the minutes ticked by.

Ten minutes later, the chime rang out.

‘Ding!’
[Chakra Control reached Level 1!]

The moment the skill leveled up, my perception of the energy inside my body drastically shifted. It was like putting on glasses after a lifetime of blurry vision. The chaotic, warm buzzing in my stomach suddenly felt organized. Tamed.

I sat up, the paper falling into my lap. I held out my hand. With a single thought, I commanded the chakra to flood the surface of my skin.

A faint, almost imperceptible blue shimmer enveloped my body. It felt like wearing a second skin made of warm, static electricity.

“This is…” I murmured, my eyes wide. “This is ‘Ten’.”

In the ‘Hunter x Hunter’ universe, Nen was the manipulation of one’s own life energy, or aura. ‘Ten’ was the fundamental technique of keeping the aura nodes open but containing the flow around the body, creating a defensive shroud.

I mentally pulled the energy back, aggressively shutting down the flow. The blue shimmer vanished, and my presence in the room suddenly felt incredibly dull, almost nonexistent.

“And this is ‘Zetsu’.” The technique of masking your presence and recovering energy.

Finally, I clenched my fists and pushed the energy outward, demanding it to explode.

A sudden, violent rush of wind whipped around my bed. The loose wrappers on the floor were blasted away as a thick, visible blue aura flared around me, heavy and oppressive.

“Ren,” I breathed, quickly shutting it down before my meager 40 CP drained entirely. The burst of power had been intoxicating.

According to the system’s foundational lore, Chakra and Aura were not two different magic systems operating in parallel; they were literally the exact same biological and spiritual energy, just accessed through different cultural methodologies. The system merely quantified it differently. One unit of Chakra on my panel was heavily compressed, equivalent to roughly twenty units of raw Aura in the HxH world.

If Chakra was Aura, then that meant I could use actual Nen abilities. I didn’t need to have Illumi forcefully open my nodes with a needle. The system had already done it.

I practically leaped off the bed, my otaku heart hammering in my chest. If I could use Nen, I needed to know what category I fell into.

I rushed to my mini-fridge, pulling out a chilled glass of water. I set it on my computer desk, picked up the torn piece of foil wrapper, and gently placed it so it floated on the surface of the water.

The Water Divination test. The ultimate method in the Hunter world to determine one’s innate Nen affinity.

If the volume of the water increased, I was an Enhancer.
If the taste of the water changed, I was a Transmuter.
If impurities appeared in the water, I was a Conjurer.
If the leaf moved on the surface, I was a Manipulator.
If the color of the water changed, I was an Emitter.

I placed my hands on either side of the glass. I took a deep breath, and triggered ‘Ren’, letting my blue chakra flare up and encompass the glass.

I stared intensely at the water, waiting for the foil wrapper to spin, or for the water to overflow.

Instead, the water began to glow.

It wasn’t a change in color. The water itself literally illuminated, emitting a soft, digital blue light. And then, beneath the surface of the water, text began to form. Crisp, white, holographic letters suspended in the liquid.

[System Affinity Confirmed.]

I pulled my hands back, stumbling slightly as I stared at the glass in absolute shock.

The test hadn’t fallen into any of the five standard categories. It had done something completely anomalous.

“I’m a Specialist,” I whispered, the blue light reflecting in my dark eyes.

Specialists were the outliers. The rule-breakers. Their abilities didn’t conform to the standard physics of Nen. Chrollo Lucilfer, who could steal abilities. Kurapika, who could use all categories at 100% efficiency.

And me.

My Nen ability wasn’t something I had to invent. My Nen ability ‘was’ the Ultimate Uchiha System.

It actually made terrifying sense within the rules of this universe. Nen was heavily influenced by a person’s deepest desires, their upbringing, and their obsessions. The previous Milluki was a shut-in who spent his entire life obsessing over video games, RPG mechanics, and anime. I was a transmigrator who literally died watching anime and loved gamer fiction.

Our combined, overwhelming subconscious desire for a gamified reality had manifested through my newly unlocked aura nodes as a Specialist ability.

I wasn’t the only one in this world with something like this, either. My memories of the manga supplied the connection instantly.

Morena Prudo. The illegitimate daughter of the Kakin Empire’s ruler. Her Nen ability, ‘Contagion’, literally functioned like an RPG system. It allowed her followers to gain “levels” by killing people, granting them stat boosts and eventually their own Nen abilities at higher levels. She could even bestow her system onto others.

System abilities were rare, incredibly complex, and borderline reality-warping, but they were absolutely canon in the ‘Hunter x Hunter’ universe.

I slumped back into my reinforced gaming chair, staring at the glowing water in the glass. The sheer, compounding layers of my reality were staggering.

I was an imposter in the body of an elite assassin. I possessed the genetic template of an Uchiha. And my aura had manifested as an RPG system that turned eating steak into combat experience.

I let out a low, dark chuckle that slowly escalated into a full-blown, maniacal laugh, echoing in the cold, blue light of my server room.

Killua could run off and take his Hunter Exam. Gon could go find his deadbeat dad.

I was going to stay right here, in my bedroom, and break the reality of this world in half.