Chapter 3: A Gamble of Gods
A flicker of annoyance crossed Hyuga Shinra's face as he scrolled past another useless "Gravel Fist" manual. This was inefficient.
*System,* he thought, focusing his intent. *Filter the mall again. Show me only items native to the Naruto world. Shield everything else.*
The interface shimmered, obeying his command in its usual silent manner. The clutter of multiversal junk vanished, leaving behind a curated list of techniques, tools, and knowledge from the shinobi world. His eyes scanned the new entries, his initial excitement quickly cooling. With only 30,000 points, the pinnacle of what he could afford was B-rank ninjutsu.
He saw scrolls for the Shadow Clone Technique, Fire Style: Great Fireball Jutsu, and Lightning Style: False Darkness. They were powerful, to be sure—the kind of techniques that were the backbone of a jonin's arsenal. But he saw no A-rank, let alone the legendary, village-shaking S-rank forbidden arts.
A pang of disappointment, sharp and childish, struck him. *There's nothing truly powerful here.* It was a foolish thought, he knew. A B-rank jutsu was a significant achievement for any ninja, a testament to their skill and dedication. But for a soul that dreamed of standing against Madara and Kaguya, it felt like being offered a kitchen knife to fight a dragon.
He continued scrolling, his goal clear. Ninjutsu could wait. The single most critical thing he needed, the key that would unlock everything else, was the Chakra Refinement Technique. He found it nestled among the foundational skills, its price a mere 1,000 points. It was almost insultingly cheap for the gateway to all shinobi power, but he didn't hesitate.
**[-1,000 Exchange Points.]**
**[Chakra Refinement Technique acquired.]**
A wave of profound knowledge flooded his mind—the intricate methods to draw upon the physical and spiritual energies within his cells and blend them into the vital force known as chakra. It was the foundation he had been desperately searching for. The clan would provide it eventually, but that was a year away. A year was an eternity he was not willing to waste.
With his primary objective secured, he reconsidered. Having pure chakra was one thing; having a means to project it was another. After a moment's deliberation, he spent another 10,000 points.
**[-10,000 Exchange Points.]**
**[Fire Style: Great Fireball Technique acquired.]**
A C-rank technique in name, but in the hands of a user with immense chakra, its power could swell to rival B-rank attacks. It was a classic, a statement of power for the Uchiha, and now it would be his.
Satisfied for the moment, he closed the mall and turned his attention to the [Lottery] tab. He focused on it, and a magnificent, holographic wheel materialized before him. The words "Begin Lottery" glowed in the center. At the bottom, a small counter displayed: **Draws Remaining: 3**.
*System, are these three lotteries a gift?* he asked.
**[Affirmative. The system grants one annual lottery draw and 10,000 annual exchange points.]**
The mechanical reply was swift, a rare moment of communication. Shinra's eyes narrowed. *And how do I earn more exchange points and draws?*
Silence. The system had returned to its mute state, leaving him with more questions than answers. He sighed. "Fine. Keep your secrets."
He turned his attention back to the glittering wheel. "No point in saving them. Let's see if my luck any good today."
He mentally clicked "Begin."
The world around him dissolved. He was no longer in his room but standing in a dim, star-filled void. Above him, a single, brilliant star shone with impossible intensity. Before him, the lottery wheel had grown to a colossal size, its surface divided into eight segments, each containing an item that made his heart stutter.
The first was a simple, weathered long sword. Yet, just looking at it, Shinra felt an apocalyptic heat wash over his soul, a promise of total annihilation.
"Ryūjin Jakka..." he breathed, the name a reverent whisper. The Zanpakutō of Captain-Commander Yamamoto. To wield it was to hold the power of the sun itself. With this, the entire Shinobi World would kneel.
The second item was another sword, a Zanpakutō named Muramasa. While devastatingly powerful in its own world, its ability to control other Zanpakutō was near-useless here. It was a specialized tool in a world without its intended targets.
His gaze moved to the third prize: a pair of azure blue eyes, but unlike his own Tenseigan, these swirled with a different, more terrifying power—the power to see and sever the very lines of death itself. *The Mystic Eyes of Death Perception.* Could they kill an immortal like Kaguya? The thought was both thrilling and horrifying.
The fourth segment held a Devil Fruit, the Rumble-Rumble Fruit, hailed as the strongest Logia-type. Yet, its infamous weakness to seawater was a vulnerability he would not willingly accept in a world of rivers, lakes, and rain.
The final four prizes were Observation Haki, Sword Mastery, the Rasengan, and the Marine Six Styles. A solid collection, all useful in their own right. He felt a surge of relief; at least the wheel wasn't filled with complete junk like a single matchstick.
"Blessed by every god I can think of," Shinra muttered, a desperate prayer to any entity that might be listening. "Just give me Ryūjin Jakka. Or the Eyes. Please."
He took a deep breath and initiated the draw.
The pointer on the wheel became a blur, spinning at a speed that defied physics. "Is it trying to achieve lightspeed?" Shinra complained, his heart pounding in his chest.
Gradually, agonizingly, the wheel began to slow. It passed the Rumble-Rumble Fruit. It crept past the Mystic Eyes of Death Perception. Shinra held his breath as the pointer, with aching slowness, approached the segment for Ryūjin Jakka. It hovered, teetering on the edge...
He almost leapt for joy.
And then, with a final, cruel click, it moved one notch further, landing squarely on the Rasengan.
The knowledge of the technique—the theory of chakra form manipulation, the precise method of creating a swirling sphere of destructive energy—instantly imprinted itself into his mind. If he had the chakra, he could form one right now.
His face fell, a storm cloud of frustration darkening his features. The Rasengan was a powerful technique, an A-rank creation without a doubt. But its entire cultivation method was now in his head; the lottery had essentially just saved him the time and effort of developing it himself later. For a prize that promised world-ending power, it felt like a consolation prize.
He let out a long, slow breath, forcing the bitterness down. "Okay... okay. It saves me training time. It's not bad. It's efficient."
He was trying to convince himself, and failing. But there was no use crying over spilled milk. He still had two draws left.
"One wasted opportunity is nothing for a true Gambler," he declared, his voice dripping with a false bravado that masked his dripping heart. He straightened his shoulders and looked back at the wheel, his expression once again a mask of calm determination. The wheel reset, its prizes shimmering with renewed temptation. The gamble was not over.