Infinite Metaverse

Chapter 30: Psyker Assassin? Naruto!

Four months ago, in the Lethian Sector.

A dilapidated, unremarkable small ship was traveling to the hive world of Schiweilin. The cramped cabin of the ship was packed with ragged individuals.

This was a slave ship. To be precise, an illegal slave ship.

Every hive world was a meat grinder of flesh and soul. The demand for slaves by the merchants of the guilds was endless. When local slaves were insufficient, these merchants turned their eyes to the newly conquered primitive worlds of the Imperium. Acquiring slaves from underdeveloped worlds was always easy, but such actions were not permitted by the Imperium.

The slaves, wrapped in dirty hemp cloth, huddled against the cold steel walls. The dim cabin was filled with the weak groans of the slaves.

The slaves often wore hoods, their heads bowed, their faces obscured.

Suddenly, a few of the seated slaves jolted.

They looked up simultaneously, exchanging glances.

The sudden movement of these few didn't attract the attention of the other slaves, who were already listless from hunger and suffering.

One of them, a thin, long-faced man with black hair, cautiously glanced around and whispered.

"Warhammer 40K world. Does anyone know about this world?"

He spoke in a language the slaves didn't understand, causing a few of them to glance over.

The others who had exchanged looks shook their heads, indicating they didn't know.

"No idea, boss."

"Forty thousand years? Sounds like a game."

"Never heard of it."

Hearing his subordinates' responses, the long-faced man frowned, displeased. He turned to one of them and asked, "Hey, Asano-kun, didn't you claim to have played every Sony, Nintendo, and Konami game? Even you don't know?"

The slave called "Asano-kun" looked up, revealing a young Asian face. He grimaced and said, "There are other game companies, boss."

Then, he glanced around and said in an uncertain tone, "The style here… uh, it feels a bit dark and gothic, like 'Devil May Cry'. Maybe it's a Capcom game. I haven't played many Capcom games."

Under the boss's stern gaze, Asano-kun racked his brain for what he thought was the closest answer.

The long-faced man snorted in disappointment. A similar art style wasn't helpful; he needed specific plot details.

"Boss, look!" A hushed, excited voice caught the long-faced man's attention.

A hooded young man was rubbing his hands together excitedly. His wrists were shackled with chains, but his fingertips began to glow with a faint blue light.

"Chakra…" The long-faced man murmured, recognizing the familiar glow.

Yes, chakra was defined as the energy extracted from the trillions of cells in the human body, combined with one's spiritual energy. It was an innate energy, unaffected by external environments… The long-faced man thought to himself.

With this in mind, the long-faced man ignored the curious glances from the other slaves. He tore off his ragged clothes, sat cross-legged, closed his eyes, and began to meditate, focusing on the chakra energy within him.

Soon, he opened his narrow, triangular eyes and shifted his body, pulling his shackled hands in front of him.

Though his wrists were bound, his fingers remained nimble. He rapidly formed hand seals in front of his chest, muttering under his breath.

As his fingers moved in a blur, the surrounding slaves watched in curiosity. The long-faced man raised his right hand.

"Zap!" A thin, lightning sparked in his palm.

"Ah…" The distant slaves gasped in surprise.

More white lightning gathered, the dazzling light illuminating a corner of the dim cabin. The central bolt was so bright it was hard to look at directly.

The people around the long-faced man, however, seemed unfazed, as if they had expected this.

A weakened version of Chidori… The long-faced man observed the crackling white lightning in his palm, feeling the chakra within him flow more smoothly.

Then, he pressed the flickering Chidori against the iron shackle on his left hand.

"Click." The shackle broke and fell to the ground.

Hmph… Feeling the admiring gazes of his subordinates and the surrounding slaves, the long-faced man maintained a cold expression, though he was secretly pleased.

He could have used a simpler D-rank jutsu to free himself from the shackles.

But the long-faced man felt that turning into a red toad in front of his subordinates would undermine his authority as the leader.

So, he chose the more flashy A-rank jutsu, Sasuke's signature move—Chidori.

Sure enough, the commotion in the cabin alerted the slave ship's guards. Footsteps, the dragging of chains, and curses echoed from behind the walls.

Hearing the approaching sounds, the long-faced man smirked. Now that he had successfully activated his ninjutsu, he wasn't as cautious as before. He didn't rush to stand up but instead turned to a blond young man and asked, "Nagase, how many pills do you have left?"

The blond grinned, revealing a small pouch at his waist. He opened it and said, "Three left."

Inside the pouch were three translucent yellow capsules, each containing a liquid slowly swirling within.

"Good." The long-faced man nodded in satisfaction. "Hold onto them for now. Don't take them yet. Kuraki and I will handle this."

"Yes, sir!" The blond replied with a cheeky grin.

In the corridor outside the cabin, a pot-bellied guard strode forward.

In his left hand was an electric baton, and in his right was a whip. His belt was laden with handcuffs and keys, jingling as he walked.

The guard, looking annoyed, marched to the cabin door and pressed a button on the side. He was about to unleash a torrent of curses when…

The moment the door slid open, he was blinded by a flash of brilliant white light.

***

The Reincarnators quickly cleaned out the slave traders on the ship.

But now they faced an awkward truth—they didn't know how to pilot the ship.

The slaves in the cabin were all captured from primitive worlds and didn't know how to operate a spaceship, nor did they necessarily speak Low Gothic.

"Bunch of idiots, I said to leave some alive, leave some alive…" The long-faced man cursed in frustration in the cockpit.

A black-haired young man beside him explained, "Aniki, their weapons were too sharp. If we didn't go all out, some of us might have died."

The long-faced man pointed at the control panel filled with an infinite number of keys and retorted, "Then what do you suggest? You want to fly this thing?"

"Boss! Boss! We found someone!"

Cheers from the subordinates outside the cockpit interrupted them.

The long-faced man hurried out to investigate.

He saw his subordinates escorting a few ragged, bruised individuals who looked defiant and unyielding.

"Who are they?" the long-faced man asked in Japanese.

"Pirates. They're space pirates, boss," one of the subordinates said excitedly. "We found them locked up in a cell in the lower decks. They must know how to fly the ship."

It turned out the slave ship had captured a few pirates and kept them in separate cells, not mixing them with the primitive slaves.

Realizing they had killed everyone and caused a mess, the subordinates quickly brought the pirates to their boss.

"Good." The long-faced man nodded and ordered his men, "Lock them up for now. We'll interrogate them after we've cleaned up the ship. You, go find some food. I'm hungry."

But a new problem arose.

The subordinates brought over a pile of compressed packages, unsure of what was inside.

One of them, remembering that they had been forced to learn Low Gothic upon entering the Warhammer 40K world, picked up a package and squinted at the small print, reading aloud.

"Produced by Cycle Factory 27… Corpse… uh, corpse starch??"

Everyone exchanged uneasy glances, hesitant to eat.

They all thought: The people in this world are terrifying. They actually make food out of corpses.

Corpse starch was a product of the hive world's organic recycling system. The name "corpse starch" was just a term and didn't necessarily mean it was made from corpses.

But it very well could be.

The Reincarnators didn't know this. Faced with the pile of compressed packages, they all looked to the long-faced man.

***

"Alright, everyone, it's time to think about our next steps," the long-faced man said calmly, sitting in the center of the cockpit.

"We've been assigned to the Horus faction. Since none of us know who Horus is, we'll stick to our usual approach—survive first."

"But I want to remind you all: our main abilities come from the Naruto world. This world has some compatibility with Naruto, but it's not perfect. Our ninjutsu power has been reduced by 10%. We didn't win the last Reincarnation World, and we lost a lot of Assimilation Points. If we fail again this time, it'll be even harder next time."

"However, I've assessed the strength of this Warhammer 40K world. It's not that impressive. We just need to be careful of other Reincarnators."

Having easily taken control of the slave ship, the long-faced man felt that the Warhammer 40K world wasn't all that formidable. For a completely unfamiliar Reincarnation World, this was a slightly optimistic piece of good news. His view was met with agreement and enthusiasm from his subordinates.

"Exactly, an SSS-level world, one rank above Naruto. Scared me for a moment."

"Haha, thought it would be more impressive."

The long-faced man barked, "Quiet!"

Then he continued, "But we can't let our guard down. The Kotohira Society doesn't tolerate slackers. Everyone, regardless of your ability system, must train and practice diligently. Don't waste time on trivial matters."

At this, the long-faced man glared pointedly at the blond.

Asano-kun, a hunched otaku with a pale, chubby face and black-rimmed glasses, noticed the blond, Nagase, smirking but showing no sign of remorse or shame.

Asano knew why the boss was saying this.

Before the slave ship had even been fully secured, Nagase and two other Reincarnators had dragged two native women from the slave cabin into an empty room.

What they did in there, Asano could guess without thinking too hard.

At the time, Asano had cursed inwardly: 'They didn't even bother to wash the dirty slaves first. What kind of lowlifes just stick it in any hole they find…'

Though Asano had to admit, he had felt a slight reaction himself.

But he didn't get along with Nagase, who often mocked him as the Kotohira Society's deadweight, a useless burden.

Asano didn't know what would happen if he swallowed his pride and asked Nagase for a turn. Would Nagase just laugh at him and refuse? Asano had wondered, ultimately deciding against it.

Instead, he reported the incident to the boss.

Nagase received a verbal warning, but that was it. Asano knew the boss wouldn't punish Nagase too harshly because the Kotohira Society relied on Nagase's explosive power in critical moments. His abilities didn't require training—just those three yellow capsules.

'If only I had pills too…' Asano thought. He had considered stealing Nagase's capsules, but no one in the Society had dared. No one knew if taking the pills would turn them into a pile of gore or grant them superpowers.

Someone had already tried. Their remains were left in the previous Reincarnation World.

Reincarnation lives were precious. No one wanted to gamble.

The Kotohira Society's Reincarnators released the captured pirates, who warned them not to follow the original course to Schiweilin Hive. If they went, they would surely die. The long-faced man scoffed at this but decided to heed their advice—

Their goal was the stars!

In simpler terms, they would become space pirates.

Gradually, the Reincarnators realized that even though they didn't know who Horus was, every time they raided Imperial merchant ships and caused chaos in space, their Assimilation Points increased slightly…

They began to understand that Horus was likely an enemy of the human empire. As long as they caused destruction within the empire, they could advance the Horus faction's storyline.

Thus, the Kotohira Society's Reincarnators recruited the pirates from the slave ship, as well as the stronger slaves who could pull a trigger, to serve as advisors and cannon fodder. And so, their pirate journey began.

*****

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