Suddenly, an absurd yet logical thought surfaced in his mind.
Hiroki took a deep breath and tried to ask in his mind, testing the tropes of transmigration novels and seeking verification of this bizarre encounter:
"System?"
Unexpectedly, a cold, emotionless mechanical voice instantly rang out deep within his consciousness:
"I am here."
"Damn, it really exists?!"
Hiroki's heart shook violently, and the thought that blurted out carried a strong sense of disbelief. This legendary transmigrator's Golden Finger had actually been awakened by him so simply!
"Tell me what's going on?" He suppressed his churning emotions and urgently pursued the core question—where exactly was the source of this identity and this encounter?
"The original you is already dead," the system's voice said without any emotional fluctuation, yet it threw out a world-shaking sentence, "this current identity was given to you after you agreed to certain conditions."
"Wait, I'm really dead? How did I die? And conditions? What conditions?" Hiroki's heart sank suddenly, a chill rising from being caught in an unknown deal, "What did I agree to?"
A brief silence followed, as if the system was retrieving data.
"Insufficient permissions," it finally answered, "I am only a support system and do not have the permission to know the core contents of these contracts."
"A support system? You don't know?" This answer made Hiroki feel somewhat discouraged and wary. How useful could a system be if it didn't even know the core content?
"Then what other functions do you have?" he followed up with a final bit of expectation.
"I can view your information and receive commissions from other worlds." The system listed its duties.
"Commissions? What commissions?" Hiroki's curiosity was piqued. The Multiverse? It sounded much more complex than the Soul Society.
"I don't know," the system's answer was as concise and direct as ever, "In The Multiverse, there are all kinds of commissions. We will know once specific content is received."
The information in this short dialogue was like a bomb, exploding in Hiroki's mind! The Multiverse? A grand universe beyond the cognitive range of the Soul Society and Hueco Mundo? And bizarre commissions from different worlds? Even though he was currently forcibly merging the memories and personality of Shihōin Hiroki—that extraordinary steadiness and sense of order played a key role here, suppressing the chaos of the new soul—he still felt his temples throbbing, as if his brain was about to burst from the massive amount of information!
A more practical question followed immediately: "Then, what happens... if I don't complete a commission?" He didn't want to be mysteriously obliterated by some strange punishment.
"Nothing much," the system's answer was unexpectedly relaxed, "there will be no punishment either."
This was no different from giving Hiroki a reassuring pill, and his tense nerves relaxed slightly.
But before this sense of relief could spread, the system immediately added, its words carrying a hint of (perhaps an illusion) temptation for the first time: "However, completing commissions brings many benefits. The most obvious is the enhancement of strength."
"Strength enhancement!" These words accurately hit Hiroki's current weakness! In this Soul Reaper World where the strong are respected, strength is the foundation for a peaceful life.
"What is my current strength?" he asked impatiently.
"You can open the panel to check." A panel? An information-based method was simple and direct.
"Then open the panel."
"Understood."
With the system's confirmation, a translucent panel that only he could see instantly expanded before his eyes:
Name: Shihōin Hiroki (Kuroki Hiroki)
Identity: Four Great Noble Clans · Husband of the Future Head of the Shihōin Clan
Spiritual Pressure: Rank 9 (Lower Seat Officer-level)
Skill Levels:
Hakuda: C
Shunpo: C
Kido: D
Zanjutsu: C
Equipment:
Zanpakuto: asauchi (Unreleased)
Hiroki's gaze scanned back and forth across that translucent system panel. Every piece of data was like a needle, making his eyelids twitch. He stared at the line "Spiritual Pressure: Rank 9 (Lower Seat Officer-level)," only feeling an absurd and bitter sensation welling up from his stomach.
One word: weak.
What did this Rank 9 Spiritual Pressure count for in the Seireitei? It was practically an embarrassment to the Shinigami world!
Two words: very weak.
Thinking of a monster like Aizen Sōsuke, he wouldn't even need to draw his sword; just by releasing his Spiritual Pressure, he could cause an 'ant' like himself to evaporate on the spot. Being turned to ash would be considered a compliment; he probably wouldn't even have the qualification to make the man lift a finger.
Three words: super weak.
Even if he trained his life away, exhausting his heart and soul for decades to squeeze out all the Lieutenant-level potential of the original host, what would it matter? In the eyes of those truly powerful, he would have merely evolved from an ant that could be crushed with a pinch into a grain of sand that could barely graze a finger! The gap was despairingly large.
Four words: pretty average.
His gaze swept down past Hakuda C, Shunpo C, Zanjutsu C, Kido D... Hah, average, so average it was mediocre! It was like a few grains of salt sprinkled in plain water; it had no flavor and wouldn't amount to anything.
Before his nameless anger could subside, the line at the top of the panel stung his eyes again: "Name: Shihōin Hiroki (Kuroki Hiroki)".
Also, why has even my name in the system changed to Shihōin!
This damn Marrying into the family! Even a broken system couldn't wait to label him with the "Shihōin Clan" tag?!
"According to the rules of this world, since you married into the family, you naturally had to change your name." The system's cold and mechanical voice rang out at the right time, as if stating a law of the universe as a matter of course. It even carried a hint of (perhaps an illusion) imperceptible urging: "Besides, shouldn't you be more concerned about your strength issues first?"
The name was a humiliation, the strength was despair—this system's "concern" was a truly precise follow-up jab.
"...You don't understand." Hiroki rolled a massive metaphorical eye in his heart.
"..." The system fell silent. The air (or perhaps the stream of consciousness) was filled with the frustration of playing a lute to a cow.
Hiroki irritably rubbed his temples and began to organize the Seireitei's cold hierarchy ladder:
Squad Members Fodder-level: Rank 20 - Rank 10. He was currently Rank 9, having just left the fodder ranks? It was practically a joke. At this level, if he encountered an Area of Effect (AOE) Shinigami, he would be harvested like leeks in a field.
Seat Officer Backbone-level: Rank 9 - Rank 6. He was at the very bottom of this "backbone," the lowest among the small leaders of each squad. Backbone? More like bottom-tier fodder!
Lieutenant-level: Rank 5 - Rank 4. Only by reaching this level could one barely deal with a "Gillian" class Menos Grande. This was the ceiling of the "potential" identified for his original host. Training for decades just to make Aizen barely move his pinky? It was discouraging just thinking about it.
Captain-level: Rank 3. Able to deal with some "Arrancar" class Menos Grande.
Senior Captain-level: Rank 2. The handful of super big shots, such as his future "Sister of his dreams"—that unfathomable Flower Sister, who used medical treatment to mask her killing intent.
Captain Commander-level: Rank 1. Currently, that old man Yamamoto and Captain Aizen, those two freaks, sat firmly at the top. The few members of Squad Zero who were rarely seen probably counted as well; it was entirely the realm of the non-human.
Every step of this upgrade path felt like climbing to the heavens.
Forget it, forget it, hard training is impossible. Hiroki wailed in his heart, slumped against a non-existent chair back. The limits of this body, combined with the laziness in his bones, made him completely unsuitable for this path of blood and sweat where "diligence makes up for lack of talent" (and even then, one would still be untalented). No matter how much he trained, he'd just be a Vice-Captain. Be a high-level spectator for a lifetime?
Besides, he was naturally lazy; if he could lie down, he would never stand. Relying on day-after-day sword swinging and meditation to struggle for a future with a ceiling no higher than a Vice-Captain? Just the thought made his scalp tingle and his soul resist.
It seemed he would have to rely on the tasks issued by the system. With a change of thought, the system's promise of "completing commissions to enhance strength" became his only life-saving straw. Hiroki called out to the system with almost flattering intent:
"Sys, when can you issue a task?" His tone betrayed an anxious eagerness. To hell with Yoruichi, to hell with the green hat, and to hell with noble face; enhancing strength to survive was the top priority!
"Unknown." The system replied as concisely and coldly as ever.
"I will notify you when task information is received." It added a sentence, completely extinguishing his impatient fantasies.
"Fine." Hiroki could only accept it helplessly, his heart feeling empty. The flame of hope that had just been ignited was doused until only a wisp of blue smoke remained. The future was still bleak; he could only wait, wait for that "pie in the sky" to fall—or heaven knows what kind of ghostly thing the "commission" would be.