Uchiha power in HxH world - Chapter 8

Chapter 8: A-Grade Wagyu, Brotherly Bonding, and the Sparring Mandate

There is a profound, almost spiritual joy in discovering an exploit in a video game. That moment when you realize you can stand in a very specific corner of the map, tape down the attack button, and watch your experience bar fill up while you go make a sandwich.

My current reality was the absolute pinnacle of that gamer fantasy.

I was sitting in my dimly lit room, a silk napkin tucked neatly into the collar of my shirt, staring down at a massive, sizzling cut of Class-A Magical Beast meat. It didn’t even look like normal food. The marbling of the fat glowed with a faint, iridescent light, and the steam rising from the heavy ceramic plate smelled like roasted bone marrow and victory.

I cut a large piece, popped it into my mouth, and let my eyes roll back. It melted instantly, flooding my system with pure, high-density aura.

I swallowed, mentally prodding the system interface.

‘Ding!’
[Biomass converted. Premium Class-A multiplier applied.]
[EXP +512]

A manic, deeply satisfied giggle escaped my lips. Five hundred and twelve Experience Points. From chewing.

In the beginning, I had desperately forced myself to do hundreds of pushups and run marathons around the estate just to scrape together a pitiful handful of EXP. But why would I ever do a single squat again when I could literally eat my way to Godhood? It was the ultimate otaku dream. I was cultivating immortality via premium steak.

I took another massive bite, the warm energy rushing through my newly refined, absurdly agile body. I didn’t even bother exercising anymore. The sheer volume of EXP provided by the Zoldyck family’s private hunting reserves was enough to keep the level-up chimes ringing on a regular basis.

But, as with all broken exploits, there was a mandatory cooldown phase. A tax imposed by the developers to keep the player from getting too comfortable.

The heavy steel door to my quarters hissed open.

I didn’t even look up from my plate, already knowing what was coming. I let out a heavy, dramatic sigh, picking up a napkin to dab the glowing grease from the corners of my mouth.

“Master Milluki,” Varg’s deep, impassive voice echoed in the room. “Your digestion period has concluded. It is time for your session.”

“I know, I know, Varg,” I grumbled, tossing the napkin onto the empty plate. I stood up, stretching my back. “Let’s go get cooked.”

I followed the towering butler out of my quarters and began the long descent into the subterranean bowels of the estate.

We were heading back to ‘Heavens Step’.

Over the past few weeks, I had learned a great deal about the sadistic curriculum of the Zoldyck family. The torture wasn’t just arbitrary cruelty; it was a graduation requirement. Unless you reached a very specific, unyielding standard for pain tolerance, electrical resistance, and poison immunity, you were not considered a ‘proper’ Zoldyck. You were a liability.

Normally, reaching that baseline took years of agonizing, incremental conditioning. My father, Silva, and my grandfather, Zeno, had both taken roughly five years to reach the graduation standard. Killua, the undisputed once-in-a-century prodigy, had shattered expectations by achieving it in just two years. And the absolute highest record in the history of the bloodline belonged to my great-great-grandfather, Maha Zoldyck, who had somehow cleared the conditioning in a terrifying three months.

And then there was me.

According to the head medical butler who monitored my vitals during the sessions, I was on track to obliterate the historical record. At my current rate of biological adaptation—which was entirely due to the Ultimate Uchiha System desperately trying to keep me alive—they estimated I would meet the graduation standards in a total of forty-five days.

Forty-five days. It was an anomaly so massive it practically defied the laws of physics. The medical staff were baffled. Zeno and Silva were undoubtedly watching my every move through the security cameras, trying to figure out my ‘Nen condition’.

But surviving the torture chamber was only half the battle. To properly graduate and earn full autonomy—meaning the freedom to leave the mountain without babysitters and take high-ranking missions—a Zoldyck also had to master the family’s physical assassination arts: the ‘Rhythm Echo’, the ‘Silent Gait’, and the ‘Claw’ technique.

There was, however, a massive loophole. An exception to the rule.

If a family member managed to independently awaken and master Nen—the manipulation of life aura—the physical technique requirements were completely waived. Nen was the ultimate equalizer. If you had aura, you didn’t need to learn how to alter the anatomy of your fingernails to rip a heart out; you could just punch a hole through a brick wall.

And thanks to my Chakra Control being at Level 4, I was technically a fully awakened Nen user in the eyes of the family. All I had to do was survive the chair.

Varg pushed open the heavy, vault-like doors of ‘Heavens Step’. The harsh, buzzing fluorescent lights flickered to life, illuminating the thick rubber insulation and the massive industrial power transformers.

But today, the room wasn’t empty.

Hanging from the ceiling in the far corner of the room, suspended by heavy iron chains clamped securely around his wrists, was a twelve-year-old boy with messy white hair.

Killua.

He was bruised, covered in minor cuts, and his shirt was torn, but he didn’t look broken. He looked profoundly bored. He was currently hanging perfectly still, staring at the concrete floor with half-lidded eyes.

I stopped in my tracks.

Killua slowly raised his head, hearing our footsteps. His icy blue eyes locked onto me. For a split second, the sheer boredom vanished, replaced by an expression of absolute, unadulterated shock. His jaw physically dropped.

He stared at my sharp jawline. He stared at the tailored, slim-fitting black clothes that highlighted my compact, muscular frame. He stared at the complete absence of my trademark triple-chin.

The silence stretched for a long, awkward moment.

“What’s wrong, Killua?” I asked, slipping effortlessly into the arrogant, whiny persona of the older brother. “Did the Hunter Exam rot your brain? Or are you just surprised they finally caught you?”

Killua blinked rapidly, shaking his head as if trying to clear a hallucination. The shock morphed into a defensive, snarky grin.

“I’m just trying to figure out who you are,” Killua shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “What happened to the beach ball? Did you stop eating out of sheer depression because I kicked your ass so badly?”

It was a good joke, a classic brotherly jab. But instead of throwing a tantrum, I decided to lean directly into it. It was the perfect cover story.

I marched across the room, my boots echoing sharply against the concrete, until I was standing directly in front of him. I scowled, letting my eyes widen in feigned, manic outrage.

“Yes!” I shouted, my voice pitching upwards perfectly. “Of course I was depressed, you absolute idiot! You attacked Mama! You slashed my side open! You ruined my limited-edition ‘Ninja-Squad’ shirt! Do you have any idea how much blood I lost? Do you have any idea how terrified I was?”

Killua’s smirk faltered slightly. He clearly hadn’t expected me to just admit it.

“And then,” I continued, pacing back and forth in front of him, waving my arms dramatically. “Because you made me look so incredibly weak in front of the entire family, Grandpa Zeno decided I needed ‘reconditioning’. Do you know what I’ve been doing for the last month while you were out playing games with your little friends? I’ve been down here! Getting fried! Eating raw meat! All because of you!”

I stopped pacing. I planted my feet, grounded my stance perfectly, and drove my right fist directly into his stomach.

I held back. With 14.5 tons of force. It would have literally blown him in half, turning his torso into a fine red mist. I restricted my power to a mere fraction of a percent, just enough to make a point.

The impact was a dull, heavy ‘THUD’.

Killua’s eyes bugged out of his skull. The air exploded from his lungs in a violent rush. He gagged, his body instinctively curling inward around the chains, and he vomited a mixture of bile and stomach acid onto the concrete floor.

He hung there, gasping desperately for air, coughing and sputtering. When he finally managed to lift his head, the snark was entirely gone. His blue eyes were wide with genuine, calculating shock.

‘He’s analyzing the punch,’ I thought, maintaining my arrogant scowl. ‘He’s a genius assassin. He knows exactly how much force I just generated.’

“What the hell…” Killua rasped, his voice strained. “Your physical strength… it’s almost…”

‘Almost as strong as yours,’ I finished the thought for him internally. At the start of the series, Killua could open the third door of the Testing Gates, weighing sixteen tons. I could theoretically lift 14.5 tons right now without even using my aura. To Killua, who remembered me as a weak, pathetic joke just two months ago, this was a terrifying paradigm shift.

“Shut up,” I snapped, turning my back on him. “I don’t have time to play with you. I have a schedule to keep.”

Varg, who had stood perfectly still and watched the entire interaction without blinking, gestured toward the heavy iron chair in the center of the room.

“If you are finished reacquainting yourself with your brother, Master Milluki,” Varg said smoothly. “We have a quota to meet.”

I grumbled under my breath, walking over to the chair and sitting down. The leather straps were worn, bearing the heavy indentations of my previous struggles. Varg moved quickly, securing my wrists, ankles, and chest against the thick copper contact pads.

“Today’s session will mark a significant escalation,” Varg announced, stepping back toward the massive control console. “Your biological resistance has plateaued at the previous limits. To trigger further adaptation, we will be initiating the cycle at 700,000 volts.”

“Seven hundred thou—wait, Varg, let me mentally prepare—”

I didn’t even get to finish the sentence. In the Zoldyck family, hesitation was a flaw to be punished. Varg threw the heavy, industrial switch.

‘KA-THUMP.’

The sound of the transformers discharging was deafening. A massive, blinding arc of blue electricity leaped from the copper pads directly into my nervous system.

“AGGGHHHHH!”

I screamed. It wasn’t a dignified, stoic grunt. It was a raw, primal roar of absolute agony. Even with my Lightning Affinity at Level 3 and my Pain Tolerance mitigating a massive chunk of the neurological shock, seven hundred thousand volts was still an ungodly amount of energy tearing through human tissue.

My back arched violently against the heavy leather straps. The smell of ozone and singed fabric instantly filled the sterile air of the chamber.

Through the haze of blinding white pain, I could hear Killua laughing. It was a weak, slightly raspy chuckle, but it was there. Seeing the older brother who had just punched the soul out of him getting absolutely deep-fried clearly made him feel a little better about his own situation.

My system panel flashed frantically in the corner of my vision, a steady stream of red text overlaying the real world.

[Massive Electrical Trauma Detected.]
[Lightning Affinity Lv3 mitigating 40% of localized cellular damage.]
[Health: 510/560]
[Passive Regeneration: +4 HP]
[Health: 480/560]

The system was fighting a war of attrition inside my body. The electricity was tearing my cells apart, dropping my HP rapidly, but my massive 80 Vitality and passive regeneration were desperately trying to stitch the damage back together in real-time.

But the net HP was still decreasing. The damage output of the chair was simply higher than my body’s ability to heal.

Ten minutes passed. I stopped screaming, my jaw locking so tightly I thought my teeth would shatter. The electricity coursed over my skin in visible, crackling webs.

Twenty minutes. My vision began to narrow into a dark tunnel.

[Health: 140/560]

Thirty minutes.

My body felt numb. The pain had transcended physical sensation and become a strange, vibrating hum in my bones.

[Health: 12/560]
[Health: 4/560]
[Health: 1/560]
[CRITICAL WARNING: HOST IMMINENT FATALITY]

With a loud, resounding ‘CLACK’, Varg cut the power.

I slumped entirely forward, only held upright by the chest strap. Smoke literally drifted off my shoulders. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I was sitting exactly one hit point away from meeting my maker for the third time in this lifetime.

The female medical butler stepped forward instantly, her hands glowing with a brilliant, soothing green Nen. She placed her hands on my chest. A wave of profound, cooling relief washed over my charred nerve endings. My HP gauge rapidly climbed back up to maximum.

I drew in a massive, ragged breath, my eyes fluttering open.

“How’s the weather over there, fatty?” Killua called out from his chains, his voice laced with genuine amusement. “Looks a little toasty.”

I glared at him, too exhausted to even formulate a comeback. I didn’t have the mood to banter.

“Cycle one complete,” Varg intoned, his hand already resting on the lever. “Vitals stabilized. Initiating cycle two.”

The lightning struck again.

—

Two weeks later.

I was sitting in my room, staring blankly at the ceiling, enjoying the profound, absolute silence. My body wasn’t aching. My veins didn’t feel like they were filled with battery acid.

For the first time in nearly two months, I hadn’t been summoned to the basement.

The door opened, and Kasuga stepped in. She didn’t have the dreaded shackles, nor did she have a vial of neurotoxin. She simply carried a silver tray with a pot of heavily caffeinated green tea.

She poured a cup, set it on my desk, and bowed deeply.

“Congratulations, Master Milluki,” she said, her voice carrying a rare, subtle note of genuine respect. “I have been instructed by Head Butler Gotoh to inform you that the medical staff has finalized their assessment. You have officially met the threshold. You have graduated from the foundational conditioning program.”

I sat up slowly, staring at her as if she had just told me the sky was green.

“It’s over?” I asked, my voice incredibly quiet.

“The conditioning phase is concluded,” Kasuga confirmed. “From this moment forward, you are granted full autonomy as an active Zoldyck operative. You may accept B-Rank missions and above. The mandatory monthly assassination quota is hereby lifted. You are free to manage your own schedule.”

A massive weight lifted off my shoulders. I had done it. The torture was finally over. I had secured my position in the family, and I had unrestricted access to the outside world.

“Furthermore,” Kasuga added, her tone shifting back to strict professionalism. “Because you are now an official, autonomous operative, the butler staff will no longer accompany you on your contracts. You will have no observers. Should you fall in combat, no one will retrieve your body. Please exercise extreme caution.”

“I can handle myself,” I muttered, waving my hand dismissively.

Down in the dungeons, Killua had undoubtedly heard the news through the butler gossip network. I could only imagine the sheer, reality-breaking confusion he must have been experiencing. I had watched him hanging from his chains over the past two weeks, his blue eyes constantly tracking me as I walked into the torture chamber, took levels of electricity and poison that would have liquefied a normal human, and walked out under my own power.

To Killua, it was unnatural. It was impossible. Just two months ago, I was a coward who hid behind computer screens and whined when I stubbed my toe. Now, I had shattered his great-great-grandfather’s record and graduated the program in under sixty days.

I ignored the implications of Killua’s surprise. He would have his own brutal awakening soon enough when Gon showed up to bash his head against the Testing Gates.

I pulled up my system panel, eager to see the fruits of my agonizing labor.

—

Name: Milluki Zoldyck

Bloodline: Uchiha Lv3 (73%)

Level: 48 (854/1225)

Affinity: Fire Lv3, Yin Lv5, Yang Lv2, Lightning Lv4

…

Health: 560/560 [Recovers 0.8% per minute]

Chakra: 720/720 [Recovers 0.2% per minute]

Fatigue: 0%

…

STR: 34

AGI: 100

VIT: 80

INT: 20

PER: 19

…

Skill: Sharingan Lv3, Chakra Control Lv4(82%), Transformation Lv1(12%), Clones Lv1(0%), Body Flicker Lv1(19%)

Ability: Poison Resistance Lv4(0%), Pain Tolerance Lv4(0%)

…

[Library]

—

I smiled, a wide, genuine grin.

So that was the secret metric. The standard to pass the Zoldyck family’s graduation exam was hitting Level 4 in the core defensive attributes. As soon as my Poison Resistance, Pain Tolerance, and Lightning Affinity had all ticked over to Level 4, the medical staff’s Nen scans must have registered my body as ‘sufficiently durable’.

I leaned back in my chair, taking a sip of the hot green tea. It tasted like absolute victory.

I didn’t have to get tortured anymore. I could just sit in this room, order Class-A meat, browse the internet for rare anime figures, and let the system passively push me toward godhood. It was the perfect life.

“Will there be anything else, Master Milluki?” Kasuga asked, turning toward the door.

“No, Kasuga. Just tell the kitchens to start sending up the good meat again. I’m going back to my gaming.”

Kasuga paused at the doorway, her hand on the heavy steel frame. She didn’t turn around.

“Ah. Apologies, Master Milluki. I almost forgot to deliver the secondary directive from the Patriarchy.”

My smile faltered. “Secondary directive?”

“Yes,” she said, her tone perfectly flat. “While your foundational conditioning is complete, your practical combat application is severely lacking. Master Zeno has decreed that you must now engage in mandatory sparring sessions.”

“Sparring?” I echoed, my stomach dropping.

“Indeed. You are required to spar with at least one member of the butler staff on a daily basis. To ensure varied combat experience, you are not permitted to choose the same opponent more than once within a thirty-day cycle, barring times when you are operating outside the estate.”

I stared at her back, my Intelligence rapidly calculating the sheer number of highly trained, murderous assassins currently employed as maids and butlers in this massive estate. There were hundreds of them.

“And when does this phase end?” I asked, a note of desperation creeping into my voice. “When do I truly ‘post-graduate’?”

Kasuga finally turned around, her face completely expressionless.

“You may conclude the sparring phase on the day you are strong enough to formally challenge and defeat Head Butler Gotoh in single combat.”

She bowed perfectly, and the heavy steel door hissed shut, leaving me alone in the silence.

I stared at the closed door for a very long time.

Gotoh. The man who could flick a coin with more kinetic force than a high-caliber sniper rifle. The man whose Nen aura felt like a crushing physical weight. I had to fight him. And I had to beat him.

I slowly placed the teacup back onto the saucer.

“I hate this family,” I whispered to the empty room.