Zander
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Chapter 102 : Urgently
🕑 Added 2025-07-10 07:21:16 +0000 UTCChapter 102 : Urgently
Beneath the Hokage Tower, the corridor beyond Hajime’s forge was silent, an engineered void where sound itself seemed to hesitate. The path rose in a spiral, seamlessly carved by his will, reinforced by chakra metal and smoothed by thought rather than tool. No torch lined the walls, no markings guided the path, only faint pulses of psychic light that reacted subtly to his presence, illuminating as he passed.
He ascended without effort, each step deliberate, carrying him from the forge to the main sanctum: the upper laboratory.
The lab had changed over the years.
Though its structure remained grand, vaulted ceilings, obsidian floors, and walls veined with chakra-conductive lines, it had evolved. Once a place of pure development and medical augmentation, it now resembled something closer to a sanctum of legacy. The space was divided by silent glass partitions, with one section dedicated entirely to completed inventions, another to organ development (now sealed), and a central hub for personal access and control.
Hajime walked calmly into the heart of it.
To his left stood his old power armor, tall, silver-grey, and flawless. Though it had been used in battle, no scarring or wear was visible. He had repaired every mark through psychic reconstruction long ago. It gleamed, pristine, a symbol of who he had been during the first step of his ascension.
He turned, and beside it, began removing his current armor.
Piece by piece, he used his mind to unseal and lift each part, his psychic force gently unlocking the power seals, lifting the chestplate, the vambraces, the greaves. The components hovered in the air briefly before settling into the empty rack beside his old suit, now forming a twin silhouette. This second armor was heavier, more refined, forged with precision and mastery the first suit could never have achieved. More than armor, it was a body of war given form.
At last, Hajime stood bare from the waist up, towering at 2.5 meters tall. His physique was a miracle of design: smooth, pale skin wrapped over reinforced musculature, each movement fluid, forged rather than grown. A living weapon. A steelborn god.
He walked toward the weapons vault.
The chamber opened at his presence. Psychic fields unlocked and slid aside as if moved by invisible gears, though no sound disturbed the sanctity of the space.
Inside, displayed on pedestals of black steel and chakra glass, rested his two primary weapons.
The first: his Bolter.
It was shaped in the likeness of the Grey Knights' revered storm bolters, wide-framed, sleek, and intimidating, but unlike its Terran counterpart, this weapon needed no physical ammunition. Hajime had built it to convert his psychic power into condensed warp projectiles. Each pull of the trigger released a pulse of mind-made matter: explosive, hyper-accelerated shards of thought turned death. There was no reload. The weapon drew directly from his reserves, cycling fire rate and strength in tune with his mental output.
The second: his Chainsword.
Forged from chakra metal he refined personally, it was elegant in design but primal in nature. It thrummed with latent power even while at rest.
What made it extraordinary, however, was not its physical form, but its chakra adaptability.
It could accept and weaponize all five basic elemental chakras:
Lightning Chakra made its teeth spin with blazing speed, wrapped in a crackling corona. Piercing power surged, each tooth capable of tearing steel like paper.
Fire Chakra coated the rotating blade with flames, turning each stroke into a burning arc that seared through armor and flesh.
Wind Chakra sharpened the edge to near-molecular levels, each rotation humming with slicing force that could cleave boulders clean.
Water Chakra allowed it to flow through resistance like a current, dousing heat or slicing with surgical precision in mist or rain.
Earth Chakra bolstered its weight and density, allowing strikes that shattered defenses with blunt, bone-breaking force.
The hilt interfaced directly with his Black Carapace nodes, meaning the weapon moved like an extension of his own body, no delay, no resistance.
He stood in silence before them. Weapons not of legend, but of mind, will, and innovation.
A moment later, a subtle ripple disturbed the mental field.
Someone was approaching the entrance of the lab.
Hajime’s eyes narrowed, not in surprise, but acknowledgment. The entrance was hidden within the Hokage Tower itself, behind a psychic seal no one could pass unless given explicit permission. The seal reacted only to his mental imprint or to those he personally keyed in.
He sensed the chakra signature immediately. ANBU.
Without moving, he pulsed a wave of psychic command.
The heavy vault-like door at the top of the lab slid open, not with sound, but with absolute silence. Not even the air stirred.
An ANBU operative in a plain porcelain mask stepped into view, pausing at the threshold respectfully.
Hajime did not need to ask.
The ANBU spoke simply, bowing his head. “The Hokage has requested your presence. Urgently.”
Hajime nodded once and turned, walking forward with calm precision. He passed through the central chamber, bare-chested and silent, his towering form almost too large for the doorway as the psychic barrier parted to let him through.
The armor stood silent behind him.
The weapons rested quietly on their racks.
But above the ground, in the world of Ninjas and bloodshed , something had begun to stir once more.
And Tsunade had called for her sword.
(Zander: were getting closer to hajime, having the ability to traversed dimensions)
