[System: Calibration of Gamer Engine v.T-3000 — COMPLETE]
Finally. Four years of stone-cold silence, and the first thing I see is a blue pop-up that basically says, "Congrats, you can stop rotting in tutorial mode." I've had eight-year plans fermenting in my skull like prison hooch. Time to uncork them.
[System: Would you like to review archived notifications from the last 4 years?Yes / No]
Oh-ho. So you were working in the background, you sneaky bastard. XP, skills, achieves — all stacking off-screen. Music to my damned ears. What level am I? What skills popped? Got spare stat points lying around? Later. Hit Yes.
A tidal wave of tiny envelope icons floods my vision. Dates, timestamps, the whole bureaucratic buffet. I flail, trip, swear in two languages, and surf the carpet until I corral the mess into one blinking stack at the edge of my view.
[Mailbox: 17,426 messages]
Seventeen. Thousand. Four hundred. Twenty-six. I could read this junk for a week straight and only pause to eat and not die. On the upside? That much spam means that much loot. The fatter the archive, the harder I snowball. Harder I snowball, faster I bury this village.
Because yes — I remember everything. And I keep score.
First message hits like a hammer to the teeth:
[Alert: Mental intrusion detected … success 100%][Alert: Unauthorized access to subconscious … CONFIRMED]
There are four of these. Four. As in, four times some mind-rapist crawled into my head with muddy boots.
Next pop-up dropkicks any leftover optimism:
[Installed mental 'bookmarks':– Loyalty to Konohagakure (100%)– Loyalty to the Hokage (100%)– Reduced aggression toward Konoha civilians (100%)– Reduced critical thinking (100%)– Intelligence penalty –45% (100%)– … (truncated)]
Great. A full-on lobotomy shopping list. They could've rewritten me, erased me, or set me to fetch slippers on command. I feel the red mist rising—
"System, what the fuck is this circus? Where's Gamer's Mind immunity? Where's the—"
[Gamer's Mind: Stabilizing emotional spike…]
…and the rage gets smothered like a campfire under a wet blanket. I slump on the bed, staring holes through the wall.
"Cool. Guess I rolled the pirated, cracked, malware version of the System."
Before I can spiral a second time…
[Because of the moon's position relative to the Andromeda Nebula and the stars in Canis Major, you've been afflicted with Debuff: Sudden Diarrhea (Duration: 2 hours).]
"…what."
"Oh."
"Oh come on."
Two hours. Two heroic, sweaty, porcelain-hugging hours. By the time the debuff expires, my guts are squeaky clean and my brain is even cleaner. Clarity hits: the only reason I haven't committed cheerful, town-wide genocide is a lack of raw power. The desire hasn't gone anywhere; it's just growing up nicely.
Back to the inbox.
[Alert: Attempt to exit subconscious … success 46%]
Forty-six percent out. Which means fifty-four percent of whoever broke in is still skittering around inside. One attempt exiting, but four intrusions? Yeah, that smells off. Then the next batch makes me grin like a corpse with a lottery ticket.
[Bookmark "Loyalty to Konohagakure" — destroyed 100%][Bookmark "Loyalty to the Hokage" — destroyed 100%][Bookmark "Reduced aggression to Konoha" — destroyed 100%][Bookmark "Reduced critical thinking" — destroyed 100%][Bookmark "Intelligence penalty –45%" — destroyed 100%]
And then the cherry on top:
[Reputation with Brain-Cockroach Xenomorph Colony: +5000 (Max 10,000 reached — Fanatical)]
Oh. Those guys. Yeah, I've peeked behind the curtain once. Story time.
I didn't crash straight into the classic sewer-with-a-cage like some orange jumpsuit canon kid. First, I hit the door. Two massive stone slabs, five meters high, inlaid with bas-reliefs of people half-sunk into the rock, iron rings at my height. The whole shrine embedded in a wall of pure, hungry darkness. Zero stars. Would not recommend.
I pulled. The doors groaned open easily, revealing a dim corridor with high ceilings, uneven walls, ankle-deep water, and this weird black-gray webbing that looked like bones trying to be cobwebs. The place screamed "Aliens II DLC."
The moment I stepped inside, the doors slammed shut behind me. I looked up and there, carved above the arch, it read: ABANDON REASON, ALL YE WHO ENTER.
I giggled. Then I heard the clack-clack, and a not-quite-squeak-not-quite-roar from around the bend. A shadow moved, big and wrong. I set a new land speed record back to the exit, wrapped the rings with a thick chain that definitely didn't exist five seconds ago, and slapped a chunky padlock on for good measure.
Then I stared at it and wondered two things:
Where the hell did I get a chain and padlock?
Where the hell is the key?
Later I meditated until I learned to arrive at the door instead of speedrunning there via blunt force trauma. But that padlock? Wouldn't budge. Deep down, I didn't believe the locals wouldn't eat me on sight. Couldn't go in.
Now? With the cockroach-xeno colony pledging me their little chitin hearts, I'm pretty sure I won't get disassembled and repurposed for parts. So yeah — I'll be back to shake hands with the residents, and maybe say hi to a certain furry roommate. After I clear the damn mailbox.
Next hundred and fifty messages give me facial tics. Useful info? Barely. Quantity? Offensive.
Ta-da!You slept in your own bed. HP fully restored. All negative effects removed.
Ta-da!You ate. Stamina restored. +5 HP for 1 hour.
Fine. Whatever. Then we crash into the premium infant content:
Ta-da!You shat yourself.
Ta-da!You've been in shit for 1 hour.
There are hundreds of these. I'm about to mass-delete when I catch a line that freezes my thumb:
[Alert: Mental attack detected. Intrusion into subconscious — EXIT successful with minor damage (4%).]
So there was a snake in the garden, and it left. That's worth combing the filth. I grind through another 150 messages and—
Ta-da!INT –1
I stare. I swear. The System stares back. Another 150 messages.
Ta-da!INT –1
I deliver a passionate, multilingual TED Talk on fairness, logic, and where the UI can shove itself. I get…
Silence.
Another 150. Another INT –1. I open my mouth for round two, and the universe gifts me an encore:
[Because of the moon's position relative to the Andromeda—]"Shut up. I know the drill."
Two more hours in the Think Tank.
Crawling out of my newly beloved bathroom (been in this apartment ~7 hours, 4 of which had quality time with the toilet — don't judge), a thought hits me. Once is chance. Twice is coincidence. Thrice is a damn pattern. Maybe those INT cuts aren't random. Maybe I'm being punished for doing something stupid… like not using the settings.
I flop on the bed and clear my throat.
"Uh… System Settings. Message Filter."
A pane blinks into existence. "Filter" and "Message Preferences" are highlighted like neon Christmas. Then—
Ta-da!INT +1WIS +1INTUITION +2
And this time the Ta-da sounds exactly like "About time, genius."
I tweak filters. Boom — message count drops by a factor of ten and everything slots neatly into categories. Much better. I open the first achievement on the timeline.
Ta-da!Congratulations!You've shat yourself 1,000 times and spent 1,000 hours in shit.Achievement Unlocked: Little TurdLittle Turd:– Chance to step into a foul-smelling mess +15%– Chance to walk out of it clean +8%Note: This achievement can evolve if… reasons.
No words. Just feelings. Loud, creative feelings. How do I live with that title? And no, the problem isn't the bad-luck line. It's the name and the method of acquisition. Credit where it's due: the nurses at the newborn ward earned themselves a permanent place on my to-do list. "Just kill them" suddenly feels like a mercy.
At least the skills cheer me up.
Ta-da!Skill Created by Action:Evil Overlord Laugh — MAXEvil Overlord Laugh:– Everyone who hears it gets the chills. Anxiety spike. Morale drop.
Ta-da!Skill Created by Action:Mad Vivisector's Cackle — MAXMad Vivisector's Cackle:– Causes nearby cowards to rethink their life choices. Increases chance of enemy retreat.– Bonus intimidation vs. medical staff.
Not exactly Rasenshuriken, but it's something. And let's be honest — I did grind those laughs for weeks just to screw with ANBU.
Alright. Filters up. Trash down. Brain roaches loyal. Bookmarks dead. The inbox is finally navigable, and I've got a date with the padlocked door in my head.
Next step? Keep digging the logs, cash the prizes, and start min-maxing the hell out of this "new life" before I decide whether to burn this village down or just… rearrange it.
[System: New Sub-Quest — "Inbox Zero"Objective: Clear the archives to 0 (filtered)Reward: 1x Skill Point, Trait Reveal (???), +2500 EXPPenalty: None. You'll just stay a disorganized scrub.]
Oh, now you're being cute.
Fine. Let's grind.