Path Of War

Chapter 8: Camping

While walking back cautiously to the nearby town, Arthur considered how fortunate he was to have stumbled across a Kekkei Genkai user.

Characters like Yukimi were not a common find. Perhaps by chance, her story was developed by Elysium's artificial intelligence systems, allowing him to cross paths.

Or perhaps the programs knew he would tread on this path of darkness, placing her in the same situation as him. Regardless, he knew that the hardware functions of the world couldn't be altered. The moment he entered the pod, everything was static, only changeable by the player's choices.

Putting those thoughts aside, he knew what he needed—more Kekkei Genkai.

They were very unique, with only a few being effective in combat. The Smoke Kekkei Genkai, for instance, can deceive a prominent ninja's senses. This was shown when Kakashi, a user of the Sharingan, fought Yukimi's clanmates and couldn't differentiate them from real smoke.

Other Kekkei Genkai could form hardened crystals, absorb chakra, explode objects on contact, and even generate their own magnetic force. But out of all the Kekkei Genkai in this world, only one surpassed them all: the Rinnegan.

Arthur didn't want to think further about that ocular technique.

With each passing hour, his body had fully accumulated all the foreign cells. He approached the town he'd previously avoided, keeping a safe distance.

Citizens could be heard rustling about. Arthur couldn't help but feel the bitter taste of their normalcy.

He closed his eyes, focusing on his chakra. Channeling it, his body became weightless until it dissolved entirely. He was smoke, a formless cloud drifting in the breeze.

It was exhilarating—a newfound freedom of movement—but he didn't let the excitement get to him.

He drifted through the air, swirling around buildings, testing the limits of his control. It wasn't perfect; tendrils of smoke occasionally strayed from the main body, but with each passing moment, his perfection in it steadily grew.

Passing over rooftops and peering into windows, he monitored the unsuspecting townspeople. They were average citizens, oblivious to his presence.

He saw families gathered around dinner tables, couples walking along the street, and children sleeping in their beds. Nothing was needed to remind him that they were mere virtual characters.

What he needed were resources and information.

In a house on the outskirts of town, he found his answer. This, Arthur decided, was a safe target. He seeped through a crack in the window and scanned the whole home. No one was inside.

Reforming himself inside the house, he quickly scanned the living room, finding a map sprawled across a table and a worn leather satchel overflowing with weapons. This house belonged to a ninja!

He focused on the map, its faded ink depicting the surrounding area with a surprising level of detail. This would be invaluable. Shifting his attention to the satchel, he accessed its contents and found scrolls, throwing knives, shuriken, and an assortment of other weapons inside hidden compartments.

He gathered everything he could and made his way to the kitchen.

The smell of leftover meals permeated his nostrils. It had been days since he had any real food. Finding fruits and vegetables, he ate them with caution, aware that his mind was only thinking it was real food.

It tasted good.

This wasn't about playing fair; this was about survival, about rising above the limitations placed upon him.