The last thing I remembered was the pain—hot, searing, and blooming in my chest like a firecracker. I had a hole in my torso, and blood was pouring out like someone had opened a faucet. My knees gave out before I even hit the floor. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't speak.
All because I was in the wrong place at the wrong damn time.
I was hanging out with a group I thought were just my boys, chilling in some abandoned house on the edge of the neighborhood. Laughed. Talked trash. Drank a little. Then the world flipped. Red and blue lights cut through the windows. Police sirens screamed. My so-called friends started shooting.
Turns out they were criminals—armed to the teeth. And me? I was the only one unarmed, clueless. Just a regular guy caught in the middle. The cops couldn't tell the difference. I saw one officer raise his gun. I tried to put my hands up, to scream that I wasn't one of them.
Then everything went black.
I died. I know I did. I felt the cold creep in. I felt my heart stop.
But somehow, I woke up again… in a different body. A different world.
---
When I opened my eyes again, I was lying on wet concrete, in a back alley that reeked of piss and smog. My hands were smaller. My skin was different. My clothes—ripped, filthy. And my stomach? Empty. Growling like a wild animal.
It didn't take long to figure out where I was.
Gotham City.
Yeah. That Gotham. The one with lunatics in clown makeup and billionaires who fight crime in bat costumes.
I was sixteen again, stuck in the body of some half-starved street rat. No money. No ID. No backup. No powers. And worst of all—no idea why or how this happened.
Hunger drove me to try my luck at shoplifting. Just a quick grab-and-run, I thought. But of course, Gotham doesn't do "easy."
Because guess who caught me mid-swipe?
Robin.
Freaking Robin.
He beat my ass in five seconds flat. I didn't even have time to beg. I think I blacked out at one point. Now here I am—sitting in a holding cell at Gotham PD, nursing a bruised face and trying not to throw up from the adrenaline crash.
Welcome to Gotham, I guess.
--
I hated being this weak.
In a world like this—full of gods, monsters, and lunatics dressed like clowns—weakness is a death sentence. I had already died once because I couldn't defend myself. I refused to let it happen again. Not here. Not in Gotham. Not in a world where any random psycho with a smile and a crowbar could cut your life short.
My thoughts were interrupted by a sudden—
Ding!
> [Shinobi System Loading...]
[Loading Complete.]
[Injecting Chakra into Host...]
Then the pain came.
It was like fire under my skin. My nerves lit up like electrical wires. I dropped to the cold cell floor, curled up as agony tore through me. I couldn't scream—my voice caught in my throat. It felt like my insides were melting, reforming, being carved into something new.
A minute passed. Or maybe an hour.
Then, as suddenly as it started, the pain vanished.
Ding!
> [Chakra Installation Complete.]
I gasped for air, soaked in sweat, heart pounding in my ears.
---
> Name: Jake Mercer
Age: 16
Chakra Affinities: Wind, Lightning, Wind
Bloodlines: None
Chakra Amount: Low Genin (3000/3000)
> Attributes:
Strength: 9
Speed: 12
Stamina: 15
Vitality: 5
Durability: 7
Reflexes: 3
> Attribute Points Available: 0
Novice Package Available!
(Note: A peak adult human's base stats average at 30.)
---
I stared at the glowing blue interface floating in front of me. My jaw hung slightly open. This… this changed everything.
I had thought I'd be clawing my way up the food chain with nothing but desperation and maybe some sketchy enhancement serum from the black market. But this? Chakra? A system?
I knew what this meant. I knew exactly what I had just been given. If I played this smart, if I trained like hell and exploited every advantage, I could become one of the most dangerous beings in this entire world.
I glanced down at my attributes and clicked my tongue. Pathetic. Malnourished and beat to hell—no wonder everything was so low.
Still… there was that prompt blinking in the corner of my vision.
> [Novice Package Available. Open Now?]
I didn't hesitate. "Open."
Ding!
> [Novice Package Opened.]
– Uchiha Bloodline Obtained
– 10× Kunai & 10× Shuriken Obtained
– 5× Chakra Pills Obtained
I froze.
If I wasn't so hungry I might have jumped for joy.
The Uchiha bloodline. That meant potential. That meant Sharingan. That meant… maybe even Mangekyō. Of course, it wasn't awakened yet. I'd need to unlock it myself. But the foundation was there. That alone was enough to change my fate.
A hungry grin tugged at the corners of my mouth.
Yeah… maybe I had a shot after all.
Great transition into Jake's next step—he's still grounded in reality (hungry, cautious), but now armed with a system that gives him a fighting chance. I've cleaned up the grammar, improved flow, and added light internal narration to flesh out Jake's mindset and keep the tone consistent with your balanced drama vibe.
---
Chapter 3 – Preservation Over Pride
Jake stared at his hand, then concentrated.
Woosh.
A kunai shimmered into existence between his fingers—solid, cold, and razor-sharp. Just as quickly, he willed it away, and it vanished into thin air.
System storage. Chakra-infused. Only items gifted by the system could be stored or retrieved.
Jake let out a quiet, "Trippy."
Before he could fully process what had just become his new reality, the clank of metal echoed outside his cell.
A gruff guard walked up, keys jangling at his side. With a grunt, he slid the barred door open.
"Oi," the man barked. "You're free to go. Try not to cause more trouble out there, kid. Or next time, you'll be staying a lot longer."
Jake blinked. "Seriously?"
The guard just grunted and waved him off.
Jake stood slowly, body still sore, stomach still growling like a dying engine. He kept his head down as he was escorted out of the precinct, the cool Gotham air slapping him in the face the moment he stepped outside.
He didn't get far.
Across the street, near a cracked alley wall, sat a rusty, half-open dumpster. The stench hit him like a punch to the gut—but it only made his stomach rumble louder.
He looked around. No one was watching. No cape in sight. No cops. Just the dark, indifferent city looming around him.
"Screw dignity," he muttered under his breath. "Preservation comes first."
He rolled up his sleeves and stepped toward the dumpster.
---
Jake peeked over the edge of the dumpster, nose wrinkling from the awful stench. Still, his stomach gave him no choice.
With a sigh of defeat, he climbed up and began rummaging through the garbage. His hands were soon soaked in some kind of sticky, foul-smelling liquid that clung to his skin. He ignored it and kept digging, until—
Pizza.
Two half-eaten slices, soggy and stale, but still recognizable.
He climbed out and made his way into a nearby alley. Sitting against the wall, he opened the crushed box and leaned in to eat—mouth only. No way was he touching it with the grime-coated hands he'd just used to sift through trash.
The first bite was sour.
Definitely stale. A little moldy, even. But he forced himself to chew.
Halfway through the second slice, he felt something crawl along his right hand.
He looked.
A maggot.
His throat lurched. Bile shot up into his mouth, burning and sour. He gagged, clenched his teeth, and forced it back down with sheer willpower. What did escape, he spat onto the ground, eyes watering.
He wiped his mouth with his forearm and leaned back against the wall, staring at his stained hands.
This was his life now.
"I get it now," he muttered. "Why school mattered. Why teachers always said, 'Pick better friends.'"
---
The next challenge? Sleep.
He wandered the streets of Gotham for hours, trying not to draw attention, trying to find a place that wouldn't get him stabbed, mugged, or worse. The city was filled with abandoned warehouses—but most of them were claimed. The broken locks, fresh footprints, and cigarette butts said it all.
Jake wasn't ready to pick a fight for territory just yet.
Finally, by evening, he found one that looked untouched. Quiet. No signs of recent activity. Just dust, peeling paint, and rusted beams. A dead rat in the corner confirmed that at least nobody else had been sleeping there.
He gathered some worn pieces of cardboard and made a makeshift bed on the concrete floor.
It wasn't comfortable. It wasn't safe.
But it was his.
For now.
---
End of chapter.