It hadn't been as overwhelming of a skill as it first sounded. Apparently, I would need roughly a 10000SS to resurrect. Or I will have to wait in the afterlife while the system collects the required SS using its daily collection. But since I won't have a body, the production would be half an SS a day.
I would be kind of like the sage of the Six Paths. I could still die if some other soul killed me in the afterlife. Or if the attack targets my soul or call. But essentially, it was an extra life. The card had been used to feed the dying Yamigami. It had helped us bond and had given Yami enough juice to resurrect me once. He was not a system, but more of a pet, though. A soul-bound resurrecting pet who could not leave you. The increase right as I bonded in chakra control had been tremendous. His understanding of world laws meant that I basically had a powerful Fuinjutsu master living in my brain. But the growth rate was really abysmal in practical combat. The most Yami could do was manifest as a shadow Kunai. Nothing more. And according to him. He won't be able to help me in the physical department too much, even in the coming decades.
But his presence was supposed to enhance my call and unlock higher soul upgrades, which was not manually possible in this world. So basically, he upgraded my potential. Initially, my highest would have been elite Jonin. The World fragment upgraded my potential to Kage level. The system would be stuck with locked marks all over there, with my soul maxed out. But now, my potential has increased to Super Kage.
And now it was time to grind and realize that potential.
I summoned the clan.
120 warriors. 120 little Yamis. They would be like a hivemind with my Yami as queen bee. A way to communicate like Tsunade's slugs. There was also the small fact of spying on their minds and being able to kill them remotely. It was kind of worse than Danzo. Like they were the Suicide Squad. But it had become necessary.
When the system had said that it would be detrimental for me to learn some things, it wasn't kidding. Halfway through my inquiry, I had told Yamigami to shut up and not say anything more before I reached at least Super Kage level. Until then, we will treat everything regarding the call and system mechanics as level cap upgrades.
That's it. I even authorized Yami to slap me with a small shadow manifestation if I asked, unless necessary. Those Uzumaki bastards had the right idea. The orb had been beneficial to me, yes, but the system had opened a can of worms too large for me to handle doing that. But it had done it anyway, because unlike me and Yamigami, it was an AI. Its only concern was me. So in me vs the world. The world loses. If it dies a thousand years down the line to empower me, then so what? It expected me to ascend and leave it in around 400 years.
And by the way this is a real problem now.
-----
I stood before my little army—rows of determined faces lit by the afternoon sun. Their uniforms bore the mark of the Kurosawa, sharp and proud. I let my gaze sweep over them once before speaking.
"You all have worked hard. For three years, you've trained, bled, and grown stronger under this banner."
A murmur of acknowledgment rippled through the ranks.
"I recently came across an opportunity—one that I thought would be mine alone. But it turns out… it can be extended to all of you as well."
I raised my hand, letting the shadows unfurl. A strange black ink shimmered faintly, alive with power. "I have signed a contract with the Yamigami—beings of shadow and soul. The bond I formed with them is more than just a pact of strength. It's a bridge… between spirit and purpose."
Their eyes widened, a mix of awe and curiosity spreading across their faces. They had heard of the legendary summoning contract that all badass shinobis had. After all, Konoha's finest, the Sanin and the Hokage and the Uchiha, all had contracts. The thought of signing one themselves was the best thing that ever happened to them. They called themselves Shinobi. But they weren't. Not really, they knew. It will take years for them to get to even an inferior genin level
"The contract allows the Yami to form soul bonds with you. Those who are chosen will gain more than just a companion. You'll inherit a fragment of their nature—an enhancement to your talent, especially in Fuinjutsu, and a permanent rise in chakra and comprehension."
The wind rustled the courtyard banners, carrying the weight of my words.
"They aren't strong physically. This Kunai is about my Yamigami's physical limit. Yours will have even less. What you will have is a personal thinking assistant to help you in thinking and fuinjutsu." Which was true, I was kind of giving them their own ChatGPT. Just with limited knowledge.
Excited chatter rang out. The Yami sounded more awesome with every passing moment.
But, just like always. There is a price to the power. "But, before you step forward. Know this. Just like all power, this too has a price."
My voice dropped low. The courtyard, which had been full of eager faces a heartbeat before, grew still with a different kind of attention — the kind that leans forward because it fears what comes next.
"You need to understand exactly what this bond does — and what it allows those who hold the contract to do." I unrolled a dark scroll and let the ink shimmer in the sun. I needed that prop to drive the point home. "When a Yamigami forms a soul bond, it threads its essence to yours. It will teach you, whisper to you, and make your seals keener than any I've seen. Your chakra will grow. Your comprehension will deepen. Fuinjutsu will become less a craft and more a language you read as breath."
"But," I raised a hand so none could interrupt, "there is a structural cost. The same tie that lets the Yamigami see your inner flow also creates a permanent link to the holder of this contract. That link contains a fail-safe — a seal comparable in function to the caged-bird mark that the Hyuga use to enforce loyalty." I watched faces blanch at the comparison. "In plain terms: the contract grants the clan head an execution channel. Should I — for any reason that violates our laws or endangers the clan — decide it necessary, I can sever the bond. Severing is not gentle. It is final."
A hundred small noises filled the silence — the rustle of fabric, a child stifling a gasp. I did not flinch. "This is not paranoia dressed as caution," I continued. "It is true. We learned our lessons in blood. The caged-bird marks you have heard of were made to protect the greater good. This is the same harsh calculus: absolute power to protect many may demand a terrible choice about one."
"I will not force you. You are free to volunteer. Those who choose not to will neither be banished nor punished in any way. This is your choice and your choice alone. But know this, terrible things are coming ahead. And without the power to protect ourselves. We leave our fate up to the throw of the dice." I paused. "And I refuse to do that."
It disgusted me to do what I was doing. But it was necessary. A scoff escaped my lips. I had spent my time always hating Danzo, Hiruzen, and their cronies. But when it comes to it, were they all really that wrong in all things that they did? Some were bad, I agree. But were they all?
I knew I was trying to rationalize the weight of this sin. But I couldn't help it. I had to shoulder it. Because someone had to. Chains, the Hokage called them, didn't he? He forgot to mention that the chains are supposed to choke your soul.
I took a breath. And invested 10 SS to churn out a fragment. Yeah, it costs to make them. Draining my balance to zero.