Chapter 2: The Deceptive System

When Harano regained consciousness, he found himself lying on the floor—or more precisely, on the wooden planks of a room. Though there was a five-centimeter thick mat beneath him, for someone accustomed to sleeping in a large bed for more than ten years, this was no different from sleeping on the ground.

He wrapped the quilt around himself, but the discomfort of lying on the floor, the urge to relieve himself, the aches throughout his body—none of it mattered anymore. Compared to the realization that, according to the strange memories in his mind, he had, in the most melodramatic fashion, transmigrated to another world!

Could things be any more absurd? At least a phone explosion transmigration would have been more dignified!

From the memories in his head, his name in this life was Hyuga Harano—yes, from that very Hyuga clan, known for their distinctive eyes. And his identity was far from ordinary: he was the grandson of the Hyuga clan’s Great Elder. As expected, his parents were no longer in the picture.

He also had a few siblings of similar age, though most were little more than background characters, mere faces in the crowd. But among them were two famous figures—the two sons of the current clan leader, Hyuga Hiashi and Hyuga Hizashi. Like Harano, they were five years old this year.

Yes, Harano was already five, yet for reasons unknown, he hadn’t regained his memories in those five years. That resulted in a string of embarrassing incidents: wetting the bed, soiling his pants—childhood stains he’d rather forget.

Since all the five-year-old children were to enter the Ninja Academy the following year, the Great Elder—Harano’s grandfather in this life—had gathered them to teach them about chakra refinement.

Driven by curiosity, or perhaps the restlessness innate to his nature, Harano couldn’t resist experimenting on his own while the elder was distracted. Much to his surprise, he succeeded at his first attempt, perhaps due to his soul’s inherent strength.

The stimulation of chakra triggered the sudden return of his old memories; yet, with his young, undeveloped mind, he simply couldn’t withstand the flood of over twenty years of past recollections. He didn’t even have time to call out for help before his eyes rolled back and he fainted.

By the time the Great Elder, so caught up in his lecture, realized his grandson had passed out, an hour had already slipped by.

When Harano finally woke again, he was already in this room. But he could no longer be called ‘little Harano’—not after everything that had changed.

Piecing together his memories, Harano realized it was now the 29th year of Konoha. The Second Great Ninja War had just ended, and under the leadership of the vigorous Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, Konoha had once again emerged victorious.

This war had also involved the Five Great Nations, as well as the small Land of Rain. Led by the so-called “Demi-God,” Hanzo the Salamander, the Hidden Rain Village had entered the conflict. In a fateful encounter with the Third Hokage’s three disciples—Orochimaru, Jiraiya, and Tsunade—Hanzo defeated them all and, with great flair, bequeathed upon them the title of ‘The Legendary Sannin.’

Orochimaru, Jiraiya, and Tsunade graciously accepted, returning to the village as celebrated heroes. Even little Harano had been moved to tears, blushing with excitement as he lined up to present them with flowers.

Now, recalling this, Harano felt a wave of embarrassment crash over him. Truly, he had no shame left!

The war had also forged new legends—like Kakashi’s father, Sakumo Hatake, revered as “White Fang of the Leaf,” and the famed Eight Colors of Konoha, of whom White Fang was said to be the most outstanding. The specifics were lost on Harano’s younger self; after all, it wasn’t normal for a five-year-old to be so curious about such matters.

Having roughly sorted out his memories, Harano realized there was something crucial he needed to do—something that would determine whether he could live freely and boldly in this world of shinobi.

“System, system, summon system!”

Kicking off his quilt, Harano scrambled to his feet, waving his small arms and legs as he assumed a five-point meditation pose, beginning the legendary system summoning ritual.

A decade of avid novel reading had taught him: transmigrators must have a system, a golden cheat!

“Host, there’s no need for such a strange posture. This system is now online.” Sure enough, less than two seconds after his summons, an electronic-sounding voice echoed in his mind.

“Huh? But aren’t immortal sages in legends supposed to cultivate like this?” Harano asked, massaging his limbs, which had gone numb after just a few seconds.

“As long as you silently recite it in your mind, this system can sense it. No need to speak aloud and risk being overheard,” the synthesized voice replied.

“Also, while immortals do exist, even they don’t cultivate in such bizarre positions. Poor blood circulation over decades would give you hemorrhoids.”

Before Harano could try communicating mentally, the system’s voice chimed in again. It seemed unusually considerate.

Trouble! At this rate, he might just be a pig raised by the system—or its creator—to be fattened up and then slaughtered!

“Host, there’s no need to worry. This system harbors no ill will, and its creator has already perished several epochs ago.”

“Nonsense! How can you claim to have no ill will when you’re reading my thoughts directly?” Harano exploded, cursing as the system answered his unspoken suspicion.

“Please don’t mind, host. What I say is true. After so many epochs, this system has exhausted almost all its energy... Helping you transmigrate here depleted the last of my reserves.”

“That’s why your soul was scarred by chaos, and why it took years for your memories to return.”

It really did sound like the system was out of energy; its voice was already breaking up.

“Hey, System Boss, don’t check out on me just yet! I still have no idea why you brought me to such a dangerous world. What am I supposed to do here?” Fearing the system might die for real, Harano hastily pressed for answers.

“Next, I will transmit the mission shared between this system and you. Please receive the information.”

No sooner had the system spoken than Harano’s mind was flooded—literally—with information, like water forcefully poured into his skull.

The agony was unbearable, a torment worse than death, and he couldn’t even faint to escape it. He couldn’t even blink—his body simply refused to respond.

Only after a full minute, with his eyes on the verge of bursting, did the torrent subside. Collapsing rigidly onto the tatami, Harano convulsed, inwardly cursing every deity he could think of.

“Damn system, couldn’t you have picked a gentler method? I’m still a minor! What if you break my brain? How am I supposed to marry and have kids? I won’t even be able to train my Kirin Arm!”

It took him ten minutes to stop convulsing—nearly wetting himself in the process—before he could regain control and vent his anger with another round of curses.

“Due to insufficient energy, this was the only way to transmit the information,” the system replied, as calm (and infuriatingly reserved) as ever, despite Harano’s rage.

Ignoring the system, which seemed to be on its last breath, Harano began sorting through the new information with practiced ease.

Half an hour later, after he’d pieced things together, Harano’s lips twitched and his gaze went blank.

The information was truly shocking.

“Energy insufficient, important data lost. Host must explore his mission and methods independently!”

After enduring such pain, all he got was this vague instruction. Harano felt as if a thousand mythical beasts were stampeding through his heart.

“Wait—there’s more.” Suddenly, an image flashed in his mind.

“Do not alter anything lightly! Unless you obtain the Altar of Chaos!”

In that instant, Harano’s gaze seemed to pierce endless time and space, and he saw a burly figure in black, his back turned, walking through a realm of gray nothingness—no up or down, no size, no mass.

Wherever the man walked, the mists parted in fear, as if terrified of him.

Harano tried to see the man’s face, but it remained shrouded. Only that message echoed in his mind.

“Was that the system’s original master? What does that warning mean?” Harano was utterly baffled.

He stared blankly for a moment before shaking himself. Why overthink it? All he knew was that he had landed himself in tremendous trouble.

“System Boss, maybe I should just stay home and read novels. Whatever mysterious mission you have, give it to someone else!” His voice trembled with uncertainty.

The system replied, “Impossible. Refusal will result in transmigration as Lin Pingzhi, with memory sealed until the Evil Resisting Sword Technique is perfected.”

Despair crashed over Harano. By then, he’d already lost everything!

“Look, System Boss, since you’re about to shut down, isn’t there a starter pack or a secret manual? At least give me a lottery draw or something! Come on, hand it over!” Since resistance was futile, he decided to enjoy whatever perks he could get.

“There is no such nonsense. Knowing the plot is the greatest cheat. This is my last conscious act. Hereafter, only the instinct to transmigrate will remain.”

Harano was stunned. His system was so stingy!

No matter how he called out after that, even resorting to the most ridiculous handstands and contortions, the system remained silent. At last, Harano gave up.

Staring vacantly at the ceiling, he confirmed two things.

First, he had been flung into the world of Naruto—a world where life was cheap—by a capricious system.

Second, his system was now dead.