MTLNOVEL Chapter 1: reborn
I always believed that nature was unbiased—simply reclaiming what was hers in the end. And I could respect that. But gods? They're a different story. They're biased as hell. I must've pissed one off somewhere down the line because from the moment my day started, things went straight to chaos.
It began when I was casually walking to the store. Out of nowhere, an earthquake hit. A jagged crack tore through the asphalt, causing a sixteen-wheeler to ramp off the street like a scene straight out of an action movie. It came barreling toward me, horn blaring—metal and death on wheels. But by some miracle, I instinctively dove into a roll, narrowly avoiding being turned into street art.
That should've been the end of it, but the universe had other plans.
Later that day, I was taking my usual nap in the forest—a habit of mine. You might wonder why wild animals didn't bother me, but it's simple: I sleep like the dead. My stillness, my quiet presence… it's unsettling. Predators tend to avoid things they can't understand.
I woke up to an odd chill. The air felt thick, charged. Then the smell hit me—sharp, almost chemical, like chlorine in a pool. Before I could fully register what was happening, lightning erupted around me. Three bolts struck the ground where I had just been lying, each crackling with unnatural intensity. I sighed. I was just trying to sleep.
Then came the satellite.
It fell from the sky without warning, a massive chunk of steel from some Asian space program. The impact sent a shockwave through the forest, knocking me back several feet.
And as if that wasn't enough, a stray bullet from my dumbass neighbor's gun—of all things—ended my life.
Irony at its finest.
(3rd Person POV – The Void)
In the endless abyss where time and space collapsed into nothingness, only distant, flickering lights moved like drifting stars. Occasionally, they connected, forming clusters before fading into oblivion—replaced by countless new ones.
At the heart of this vast emptiness floated a massive black orb, its edges pulsating with a magenta glow. Tendrils of dark energy spiraled around it, feeding off the void itself, a spinning vortex of black and purple pulling in unseen forces.
(Jinx's POV – The Void)
I don't know how long I've been here.
At first, I counted the seconds. After ten thousand years, I stopped.
I spent my early days training in sage techniques from Naruto—because why the hell not? It kept my mind sharp. It wasn't until a decade later that I realized something was off. I didn't have a body anymore. But strangely, that didn't bother me.
The coldness around me, though… it felt familiar.
After five more years, I noticed something else—the floating lights. They weren't just random. They were connected to me.
It took another year before I absorbed one. The moment I did, my mind exploded with memories—visions of a ninja from 1475, a warrior who trained from the age of five and died at forty. Along with his memories, I gained access to an inner domain—a realm built from his soul.
It was a mountain range, its peak piercing the heavens, surrounded by a dark forest riddled with jagged black ice. A never-ending blizzard howled through the land, and at the summit, a blood-red waterfall cascaded down into a frozen river. A single red spider lily grew on the edge of a crater, illuminated by an eternal eclipse. A small campfire burned at its center, flickering in defiance of the cold.
It reminded me of the Soul of Cinder boss arena from Dark Souls. For some reason, I found that comforting.
As I absorbed more fragments, I realized something: a soul could be divided into nine pieces before death or a significant loss of power. Each time I consumed one, another red spider lily bloomed in my mind.
Most memories were mundane—merchants, farmers, 9-to-5 office workers from the 1800s. But every now and then, I glimpsed something insane. A futuristic Earth. Apocalyptic timelines. DC. Marvel. Entire alternate realities.
That's when I understood. I wasn't just absorbing souls from my Earth or my timeline.
I was drawing from all of them.
And then… something changed.
With a quarter of my lilies gathered, the fire at the center of my domain called to me. When I touched it, the world shifted.
Suddenly, I stood in a land of endless sand. Towering statues of people from every era stretched into the horizon. In the distance, a massive glowing tree loomed, its branches expanding over the course of ten thousand years, growing from four thousand limbs to over fifteen thousand.
For the first time in eons, something new happened.
A woman appeared.
She was gorgeous—pale skin, dark lipstick, gothic dress, and an air of casual menace. With a snap of her fingers, everything changed.
Across from me, Death sat in a chair, draped in shifting shadows and ethereal mist.
"Sigh. I knew the gods were incompetent, but this is just lazy," it muttered, shaking its head. "Not my business, though. Now, onto the reason you're here."
I raised an eyebrow, taking another sip.
"Every 100,000 souls, we reincarnate ten into different worlds. Normally, reincarnations are separate—except for the summoned ones. Someone was just reincarnated yesterday, meaning no new worlds are available."
Death paused, tilting its head.
"Technically, you should be sent to one of the heavens or hells governed by those lazy gods."
I narrowed my eyes. Technically?
"But," Death continued, leaning forward, "since you managed to evade me three times, I'll offer you seven wishes as compensation."
I tilted my head. "Any limits?"
"None," Death shrugged. "But you can also use some—or all—of your wishes for a lottery. Take a gamble. Make it interesting. I expect some good stories when you eventually return here."
I thought it over. Seven wishes were tempting, but my luck was weird. Maybe the lottery would be more… fun.
"Alright," I said, stretching. "I'll use all seven on the lottery."
Death snapped its fingers. A six-slot machine materialized before me.
I pulled the lever.
The machine whirred, spinning for what felt like ten full minutes before stopping. The results flashed:
2x Reincarnation Ability
Yuki-Kitsune Physiology
Three FromSoft Weapon Blueprints (with one crucial ingredient for each)
All Three Deathly Hallows
Shrine + Six Eyes
Power of the Night King
Hextech Crystal + Manual
Haki Manual (Conqueror Haki Awakened)
Indra's Pure Sharingan
"Hmm… not bad. But a little too broken," Death mused. "Here's the deal—you won't unlock any of these abilities at first, aside from a downgraded Shrine and one reincarnation ability. The rest? Earn them."
Before I could protest, Death snapped her fingers.
Darkness swallowed me whole.
The rhythmic clang of metal against metal echoed in the outskirts of a peaceful village. Inside a run-down forge, a lean, feminine-looking boy with black hair and piercing purple eyes meticulously shaped a blade into the form of a katana.
He worked with unnatural precision.
The boy, Jinx, stopped hammering as he examined the blade resting on the anvil. Its blackened steel shimmered faintly under the dim forge light, a stark white outline tracing its razor-sharp edges. The shape was nearly complete, but the process was far from over.
He carefully lifted the heated blade with a pair of tongs and moved toward a large barrel filled with oil. With steady hands, he submerged the blade into the liquid, causing a violent hiss as steam and smoke curled into the air. The quenching process was crucial—it hardened the steel, ensuring its durability.
After a few moments, Jinx pulled the blade out, its surface now matte and solidified. He placed it onto the workbench and grabbed a sharpening stone. Slowly and methodically, he ran the blade's edge against the stone, refining its sharpness. The friction sent small sparks flying, but Jinx paid them no mind, his focus unshaken.
Once satisfied with the edge, he moved on to the polishing process. Using finer grit stones and a soft cloth, he worked on the surface, ensuring the black steel gleamed while the white outline became more pronounced. This wasn't just any blade—it was the Black Mortal Blade, a weapon meant to sever souls and break the cycle of reincarnation. Though it was not yet complete, its form was already breathtaking.
Finally, Jinx turned his attention to the tang, the part of the blade that would soon be fitted with a hilt. He took a deep breath, wiping the sweat from his brow. The foundation of the weapon was laid, but now came the most delicate part—forging the inscriptions and binding the blade with its true power.
Jinx set the polished blade down, running his fingers along its surface. The edge was honed to perfection, but it lacked something—the runes that would inscribe its purpose. He reached for his engraving tools, taking a deep breath before he began etching intricate symbols into the blade's spine. These weren't just any runes; they were designed to enhance the weapon's lethality, reinforcing its ability to sever souls.
As he worked, he made sure to carve the tiniest serrations along the blade's edge. These were so minuscule that they were nearly invisible to the naked eye, yet they would shred through flesh and bone on a microscopic level, ensuring that wounds inflicted by this sword would be impossible to heal naturally.
Once the engravings were complete, Jinx stepped back, admiring his work. But it was still missing the final step.
He reached out and grabbed the blade with his bare hands, ignoring the intense heat that should have burned him instantly. The pain was immediate, but he gritted his teeth, tightening his grip until blood seeped between his fingers. He could feel the blade drinking it in, absorbing his very essence. His vision blurred slightly, but he refused to let go.
This was his creation. His weapon. His masterpiece.
When he finally released the blade, his blood had been fully absorbed into the metal, dark veins forming across its surface like living tendrils. Without hesitation, he moved to the final part of the process.
In the corner of the forge sat a barrel of thick, dark red liquid—a mixture of blood from recently executed criminals, along with the essence of Primal, Infernal, and Mutant-level beasts. Jinx had spent four years' worth of savings bribing a guard to obtain these materials. Now, the moment had come.
With a deep breath, he plunged the still-heated blade into the barrel of blood.
The reaction was immediate.
The liquid sizzled and boiled, bubbling violently as the blade drank it in, just as it had done with his own blood. Steam and the sickly scent of burning iron filled the room. Jinx watched in fascination as the blood was slowly absorbed into the metal, darkening it further, yet causing the faint white outline along the edges to glow ever so slightly.
Minutes passed before the blade finally stopped absorbing. The once-thick blood had turned into a thin, watery substance, its essence drained completely.
Jinx pulled the sword from the barrel. The Black Mortal Blade was nearly complete—its hunger for power had just begun.
Jinx wiped the sweat from his brow, his purple eyes reflecting the dim glow of the dying forge fire. The blade in his hands pulsed with a faint energy, but it still wasn't enough. It needed more—something truly beyond mortality.
With deliberate movements, he stepped away from the forge, stretching out his still-bleeding hand. He reached into a small, worn wooden box that sat on a nearby workbench. When he opened it, a soft, eerie glow emanated from within.
Inside lay the Full Rune of Death—the very concept of mortality and lifeforce etched into reality. He had never seen such a thing in this world, yet he remembered it clearly from his past life. Whether it was fate or something else, he knew it was meant for this moment.
Taking the rune in his bloodstained fingers, Jinx pressed it against the forge itself.
For a split second, nothing happened.
Then—BOOM!
A violent eruption of black and red flames tore through the forge, but instead of spreading outward, they were pulled inward, contained within the heart of the fire. The forge itself twisted and groaned as if something ancient had awakened.
The flames licked hungrily at the walls of the forge, no longer ordinary fire but something far beyond mortal comprehension. It crackled and pulsed, shifting in unnatural ways, as if bending to an unseen will. The air grew suffocatingly heavy, the weight of something primal pressing against reality itself.
Jinx, unfazed, let a few drops of blood from his injured hand fall into the raging inferno.
The moment his blood touched the flames, they shifted.
Black and magenta fire roared to life, swirling in mesmerizing patterns, the very essence of death and rebirth converging in the forge. This was no longer just fire—it was the embodiment of destruction and creation, of severance and fate.
Jinx felt something deep inside himself stir. He understood now—this wasn't just a weapon.
It was a curse given form. A blade that would defy the laws of life itself.
He slowly lifted the Black Mortal Blade, now glowing faintly under the forge's eldritch light. The runes etched into its surface seemed more pronounced, shifting slightly as if alive. The white outline on the blade now flickered, pulsating with an eerie radiance.
The final part was almost complete.
Now, all that remained… was to bind its very existence to him.
Jinx stared down at the Black Mortal Blade, now resting in the heart of the forge, as the black and magenta flames slowly consumed it. He stood still, letting the heat and power of the fire seep into his bones. The blade, its dark outline shimmering faintly, absorbed the flames until not a single ember remained, leaving only the scent of scorched metal and the acrid bite of magic in the air.
He could feel the pulse of the blade, its energy now fully bound to the very soul of the forge, and in that moment, Jinx knew—this was no mere weapon. This was a part of him.
With careful hands, he retrieved the blade from the forge, feeling the still-tingling warmth as he grasped its hilt. The dark metal was perfectly cool now, a balance of destruction and creation intertwined in its design. The blade, despite its dark and foreboding appearance, seemed almost alive in his grip.
Jinx's fingers traced the flower-shaped hilt, feeling its intricate runes pulsing beneath his touch. The flower, a symbolic representation of both life and death, had been the final piece of the puzzle. The handle felt firm, yet flexible—like the grip of fate itself.
For a moment, Jinx closed his eyes, taking a deep, steadying breath. The anticipation was building, and for once, the pain of his hand bleeding didn't bother him. This was the final act, the last step in the making of something truly mythical.
With his heart pounding, he lifted the blade and, in one fluid motion, plunged it straight into his chest. The cold metal pierced his skin effortlessly, sinking deep into his heart as though the blade had always been meant to be there. The force of the blow sent a shudder through his body, and for a split second, everything went still.
If anyone had been there, they would've seen the Black Mortal Blade ignite—black and purple flames swirling around it, consuming the very essence of the wound in Jinx's chest. The flames seemed to breathe, swirling around the blade before melding into his flesh.
His body jerked for a moment, and then… it was done.
Jinx fell to the floor, lifeless for an instant.
But as the seconds passed, something remarkable happened. The wound in his chest healed instantly, the scar of the blade's entry disappearing as though it had never existed. His jade-smooth skin was untouched, unmarred by the wound or the flame.
Then, with a deep, labored breath, Jinx's eyes snapped open.
A bead of sweat rolled down his face, his chest heaving as he pushed himself up off the floor. He stood there for a moment, feeling the cool sensation of his skin beneath his fingertips. The pain, the exhaustion—everything felt… different.
He slowly stood, a smirk pulling at his lips, his purple eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
The Black Mortal Blade was finished.
His first Mythic Rank blade.
He could already feel the power coursing through him, the connection between blade and soul deeper than he could have imagined. This was no longer just a weapon—it was a part of him.
And as the flames flickered out in the forge, Jinx knew that his path had changed. The world would soon learn of the blade he had forged—the blade that would become legend.
"Hmmm a fine blade like you deserve a name fitting your status hmmmm what about Kokushiryū which means"Flow of Black Death" yea that seems fitting" i said marveled by the power of the blade i had crafted and as soon as i named it a book that looked like the darkhold from the mcu showed me the status of kokushiryu.
Name: Kokushiryu
Rank: Mythical
Creator: Jinx Uchiha
Effects:
Bleed:
Every strike with Kokushiryu increases the bleed buildup in the target, with the rate of buildup varying depending on the creature's resilience. The inflicted wounds prevent natural healing and accelerate bleeding, causing the target to lose health at a rapid pace. This effect can bypass regenerative abilities, forcing the target to endure worsening damage over time.
Immortal Severance:
Kokushiryu nullifies all forms of immortality and healing factors when it delivers a killing blow. If the target is immortal or able to heal rapidly, this effect halts their regenerative powers completely, rendering them vulnerable to the blade's fatal strike. Any immortality or healing abilities are permanently canceled upon the blade's impact.
Curse of Death:
The user can invoke the Rune of Death through Kokushiryu, casting its dark influence on a target. Upon being struck, the target loses 10% of their health instantly, regardless of defenses. If the target's health falls below 10%, they are cursed for two minutes, unable to heal or recover health during this period. Additionally, for the next 10 seconds, the target's health and soul are drained slowly by the blade, causing severe weakness. However, the target can heal themselves to delay the curse's effects, prolonging their life temporarily.
Judgment of the Chosen:
Only those recognized by Jinx Uchiha and Death herself can wield Kokushiryu. If anyone else attempts to wield the blade, a powerful curse takes hold of them. Their mind shatters, driving them into irreversible insanity, whispering forbidden knowledge and visions of the void beyond life. No matter how strong their will, they will ultimately turn the blade on themselves, ending their own life in madness.
Resurrection of the Forsaken:
If the blood of Jinx and the blood of a god mix, the blade gains the power to resurrect the dead. Jinx has two choices:
Sacrifice Himself: If Jinx drives the blade into his own heart, he can resurrect anyone from the afterlife, bringing them back to life at the cost of his own existence.
Sacrifice Another: If Jinx makes another person wield the blade and take their own life, he can bring back someone he has personally met in the afterlife. This effect only works if Jinx has interacted with the soul of the deceased.
Eternal Banishment:
If Kokushiryu slays an immortal or undead being, their existence is completely erased from the cycle of life and death. They are blocked from resurrection, reincarnation, or any form of revival, ensuring their soul is lost in the void forever. The only exception is if Jinx or a recognized wielder of the blade willingly allows their return. Otherwise, their essence is permanently severed from reality, making their death truly absolute.
(Jinx's POV)
"Wow... that's a bit overpowered, but not unexpected," I muttered, running my fingers along the smooth edge of Kokushiryu before sheathing it at my hip.
Just as I turned to leave, a sharp knock echoed from my door. I sighed and walked over, pulling it open to reveal my adoptive mother, Asuka—a woman who, despite being in her mid-80s, still looked as though she were in her prime, a striking beauty untouched by time.
"Well, Jinx, you disappear for a whole month without a single word, and this is how you greet your own mother?" she huffed, arms crossed as she fixed me with a mock pout. "All those years of raising you, and I don't even get a proper welcome? Honestly, the nerve!"
A smirk tugged at the corner of my lips as I stepped forward, pressing a warm kiss to her cheek. "Missed you too, Mom."
She grinned, ruffling my hair like she always did when trying to remind me that, no matter how powerful I became, I was still her son. Asuka had always been my rock, supporting me through every challenge.
"Anyway, Jinx," she continued, her voice taking on a more serious edge, "I managed to pull some strings and secure your passage into Vyrath. It cost me a lot of favors, so you'd better promise me you'll be careful."
I raised a brow. "Vyrath, huh? Must've been quite the price if you're warning me like this."
Her expression softened, but concern lingered in her eyes. "Just... don't get reckless. That place isn't like anywhere you've been before."
I chuckled, resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Come on, Mom, you know me. Reckless is my middle name."
She sighed, shaking her head. "That's exactly what I'm worried about."
"Anyway, how goes your little project? From the new sword on your hip, I'd say you succeeded," Asuka said, her sharp eyes immediately locking onto Kokushiryu.
I smirked, running a hand over the hilt then unsheathed it. "Yeah, you could say that. It turned out even better than I expected." the second the blade left the sheathe asuka felt immediately felt the dark energy coming for the blade and she took a step back from whispers of despair and death. I saw her concerned look and resheathed kokushiryu and she visibly got better.