The flickering candle in my shack cast long shadows across the walls, the dim light barely illuminating the medical scroll spread before me. My hands moved through seals, channeling chakra to test the limits of my body's modifications—a second heart, still forming, pulsed faintly in my chest, and my lungs drew deeper breaths than any twelve-year-old should manage. My goals—power, control, freedom—demanded a body beyond human, a vessel capable of wielding my chakra with unmatched precision. Tonight, my mind was fixed on a single image: Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, whose form in Jujutsu Kaisen was a masterpiece of terror and strength. Four piercing eyes, four powerful arms, two mouths—one for speaking, one for devouring—and a towering, muscular frame that loomed over mortals like a god of war. His physical perfection amplified his cursed energy, and I was certain chakra followed the same rules. If I could reshape myself in his image, or even a fraction of it, I'd become unstoppable.
My past life as a gamer, spent mastering RPGs like Baldur's Gate and Warhammer 40,000, fueled my ambition. The Astartes, with their two hearts, three lungs, and imposing stature, were a blueprint for superhuman endurance, but Sukuna's form was something else—a fusion of raw power and otherworldly menace. In Warhammer, Space Marines were engineered for war; Sukuna, though, was a force of nature, his body a weapon in itself. I wanted that dominance, that presence. My chakra-enhanced strength already let me lift boulders and outpace my peers, but it wasn't enough. I needed more—more limbs, more senses, a frame that commanded fear and respect.
The medical scroll, pilfered from Konoha's library, was my guide. It detailed techniques for tissue regeneration and organ manipulation, meant for healing but adaptable for creation. My experiments with a second heart were progressing—each night, I channeled chakra to stimulate muscle growth in my chest, the faint thump of a new organ growing stronger. My lungs, too, were expanding, their capacity increased by careful chakra infusion. But Sukuna's four arms and two mouths were a greater challenge. The scroll hinted at radical reconstruction, grafting new tissue or even limbs, but the risk was high—one mistake could cripple me.
I started with something simpler: bone elongation. Sukuna's height, towering over even the tallest warriors, was a key part of his presence. In Jujutsu Kaisen, his muscular frame, rippling with power, made every move a threat. I focused chakra into my spine and legs, targeting the growth plates. Pain flared, sharp and grinding, but I dulled it with medical ninjutsu, my control precise. After hours, I stood, measuring myself against the shack's wall. A half-inch taller—not much, but a start. With months of work, I could approach Sukuna's stature, my body a towering beacon of strength.
The idea of four arms was trickier. The scroll described a technique for regenerating lost limbs, used on wounded shinobi, but creating new ones was uncharted territory. I practiced on a smaller scale, channeling chakra to my shoulder, encouraging muscle and bone to form a rudimentary stump. It was grotesque, barely functional, but it proved the concept. Four arms, like Sukuna's, would let me wield Dismantle and Cleave with devastating efficiency—two hands for seals, two for combat. I could already imagine it: one arm tapping an enemy with Cleave's contact-based precision, another unleashing Dismantle's invisible blades, all while my genjutsu clones confused the battlefield.
The second mouth was a distant goal. Sukuna's dual mouths—one for taunts, one for consuming—gave him an edge in intimidation and utility. I couldn't replicate it yet, but I experimented with chakra to stimulate tissue growth on my jaw, testing if I could form even a small opening. The result was a faint scar-like line, useless for now but a sign of potential. In Warhammer 40,000, the Astartes' enhancements were surgical, precise; Sukuna's form, though, was primal, chaotic. I'd blend both—precision and power—to craft a body worthy of my ambitions.
The next day at the Academy, I tested my enhanced physique in a taijutsu drill. My taller frame and denser muscles gave me an edge, letting me overpower Shino Aburame in a spar without breaking a sweat. My second heart, though not fully formed, kept my stamina high, my breaths steady even after an hour of relentless movement. I wove a Mirror Mirage Technique mid-fight, my illusory clones mimicking my strikes with eerie realism, their faint footsteps—a trick inspired by Baldur's Gate—throwing Shino off balance. When he lunged, I grazed his arm with a restrained Cleave, the contact-based technique leaving a bruise but no blood.
"Impressive," Shino said, adjusting his glasses. "Your strength… it's not normal."
"Just training," I replied, deflecting as always. But his words were a reminder: Konoha was watching. Hiruzen's visit had confirmed it, and Danzo's shadow loomed larger. My modifications needed to stay secret, at least until they were complete.
After class, I lingered near the Ino-Shika-Cho trio, observing their synergy. Ino's Mind Transfer, Shikamaru's Shadow Imitation, Choji's Expansion Jutsu—they were a balanced unit, like a party in an RPG. I'd already adapted their principles into my genjutsu, but now I saw parallels to my body modification. Choji's expanded form was temporary, but it mimicked Sukuna's muscular bulk. If I could combine that with my bone elongation, I'd have a frame as imposing as his.
That night, I pushed harder. Using medical ninjutsu, I reinforced my muscles, channeling chakra to mimic the Astartes' dense fibers. I lifted a log that should've taken three men to move, my arms steady, my second heart thrumming. I tested my lungs, sprinting through the forest until dawn, my breaths deep and unfaltering. The pain of bone growth was constant now, but I managed it, numbing nerves with precise chakra control. My height crept upward, my frame broadening slightly, each change bringing me closer to Sukuna's towering menace.
I thought of Warhammer 40,000, where Astartes were forged in pain, their bodies remade to serve the Emperor. Sukuna, with his four eyes, four arms, and two mouths, had forged himself to dominate, his massive, muscular form a testament to his will. Chakra was my tool, medical ninjutsu my forge. Every heartbeat, every breath, strengthened my chakra reinforcement, making Dismantle sharper, Cleave deadlier. The Malevolent Shrine, still too draining to unleash, loomed in my future—a technique that would shine in a body built for war.
Hiruzen and Danzo could watch all they wanted. I wasn't their pawn. I was Archon, crafting a body to rival Sukuna's, inspired by the Astartes' unyielding strength. Konoha was a stepping stone, a place to hone my vessel until it was ready to carry me to my true goals. One day, I'd stand as tall and imposing as the King of Curses himself, my chakra a storm no shinobi could withstand.