The Diamond Sealing Method's practical value was immediately obvious.
Mito Uzumaki and Kushina Uzumaki—the first and second jinchuriki of the Nine-Tails respectively—had both used the technique as their primary containment method. If it could hold the Nine-Tails inside a human body for decades, it could hold anything Jordan was likely to need it to hold. Beyond pure sealing, the chain architecture was versatile: offense, defense, barrier construction, binding. It slotted cleanly into gaps in Jordan's auxiliary toolkit that had been waiting for exactly this kind of layered, multi-application technique.
The Eighty Gods Vacuum Strike was something else entirely.
The technique worked by concentrating the user's maximum chakra output into the palm and releasing it as a continuous barrage—dozens of ultra-dense shockwaves in rapid succession, each one carrying enough force to shatter a fully manifested Susanoo. In Jordan's hands, with Tailed Beast-level reserves and 90% consumption reduction, the output ceiling was difficult to calculate in any direction that felt meaningful.
Functionally, it was a long-range, large-scale version of a continuous punching barrage. A special-effects-heavy, Otsutsuki-lineage version of hitting something very hard, very many times.
Jordan tested the stance. The chakra concentration in his palm distorted the air around it—a faint gravitational shimmer, space bending slightly under the density of the compressed energy. An irresistible urge to accompany it with something emphatic built in the back of his throat.
Ora.
He nodded slowly. The frustration from the unfavorable early pulls had almost entirely evaporated.
The Eight Gates Formation was the last card, and in some ways the most iconic. Might Guy had nearly ended a war with it. If Kishimoto had been slightly less merciful to his own narrative, the final arc of that manga would have resolved about three volumes early and very differently. The technique was that category of dangerous.
Jordan had already started calculating. The Death Gate—the eighth, the lethal one—released power that exceeded the five Kage combined. His Super Healing ability provided cellular regeneration at a rate that could, theoretically, keep pace with catastrophic damage. Whether it could keep pace with a human body systematically destroying itself from the inside through sheer output was a question that deserved careful empirical testing rather than enthusiastic field application.
But more immediately: a new transformation state. New visual. New combat form aesthetic.
He filed it under future project, handle responsibly, do not test indoors.
F-boy directed each newly processed card into Jordan's chest one by one—the familiar sensation of ability integration, a hundred small updates registering simultaneously. Jordan could almost hear the system chime of new ability unlocked playing in rapid succession as the ninjutsu catalogued itself into his arsenal.
The breadth of it was something. Dozens of techniques across every combat range and tactical application, the entire conceptual framework of chakra ninjutsu now distributed through his ability set like a new operating system layer. The Eighty Gods Vacuum Strike in particular had updated his understanding of what pure chakra density could do—the technique had a clarity to it that the Eight Gates' violent output lacked entirely. Kaguya's chakra, the progenitor's chakra, was clean. No noise, no inefficiency. Just concentrated will made physical.
The density in his palm, when he held it there, bent light slightly. A faint gravitational signature, detectable at close range.
He very deliberately did not combine it with the Eight Gates Formation to see what would happen.
Genos is currently carrying alloy plates up from the ground floor, he reminded himself. Now is not the time.
He glanced at F-boy's tally.
Then he looked again.
"...Wait. 170 Divine Draws?"
The number translated cleanly: 1,700 Fate Draw attempts consumed. Against a starting reserve that had felt essentially infinite, it had taken exactly one focused session to demonstrate that no reserve was actually infinite.
Jordan sat with this for a moment.
Then he looked at F-boy, who was making no particular expression but was absolutely radiating the quiet hopefulness of a gacha system that has identified a user in the classic pre-regret window.
"That's too many." Jordan said this firmly. "I'm done. That was the last pull."
F-boy said nothing.
"...One more. Final one. Then I'm done."
The Stand's eyes lit up.
The final ten cards materialized.
Jordan watched the spread assemble itself with the focused attention of a man who had already accepted this outcome and was simply waiting to see the shape of it. White cards. Blue cards. No golden light anywhere in the sequence—not even a flicker. The system had decided he'd had enough orange for one session, and it was apparently correct about this.
Nine cards resolved into the usual distribution of taijutsu and standard ninjutsu.
Then two streaks of purple bloomed simultaneously from the tenth position.
A double SR. The pull had saved its acknowledgment of his investment for the very end.
[Fantasy Card: Shadow Clone Technique] Type: Ability • Rarity: SR (Purple) B-rank ninjutsu. Developed by the Second Hokage, Tobirama Senju. Divides the user's chakra to create one or more fully physical clones capable of independent action—combat, reconnaissance, simultaneous training. Unlike the basic Clone Technique, shadow clones have mass, resilience, and autonomous decision-making. When a shadow clone is dispelled or destroyed, its accumulated experiences and memories transfer back to the original. Higher clone counts require proportionally greater chakra investment.
[Fantasy Card: Yin Attribute Chakra] Type: Ability • Rarity: SR (Purple) Special chakra property. One of the two fundamental chakra natures (Yin and Yang). Yin chakra is the expression of spiritual power—the mind's capacity to impose form and concept onto the world. Broadly applicable to genjutsu, advanced sealing techniques, and bloodline techniques requiring spiritual energy as a foundation. Particularly synergistic with: Sharingan, Tsukuyomi, Izanagi, Izanami, and other Uchiha spiritual-type techniques. Collecting both Yin and Yang attribute chakra completes the fundamental chakra nature set.
Jordan lay back on the bed.
He stared at the ceiling.
"...Finally."
Shadow Clone Technique. That was what he'd come in here for. The anchor card of Naruto-world training methodology—the reason Naruto had been able to master techniques in days that took other shinobi years. The ability to split into working copies, each one independently accumulating skill and feeding it back to the original. With his chakra reserves, the number of simultaneous clones he could maintain was not a figure he was going to calculate right now because it would give him ideas he wasn't ready to act on.
The Yin Attribute Chakra was the bonus he hadn't expected. His chakra nature collection was now complete—all five basic natures, plus the advanced derivatives, plus Yin to pair with the Yang he'd gotten from Hashirama's Sage Body. The Sharingan card he'd been carrying since the Warring States arc had just become meaningfully more powerful.
He checked F-boy's updated count.
Just over two hundred Fate Draws remaining.
Jordan scratched the back of his head—a rare concession to sheepishness for someone who prided himself on resource management.
"Dangerous hobby," he said, to no one in particular. "Very dangerous."
He became aware, after a moment, of F-boy.
Specifically: F-boy had appeared in complete silence at some point in the last thirty seconds and was now crouching directly beside Jordan's head, at approximately head-level, with an expression that could only be described as professionally attentive.
Jordan looked at him.
F-boy looked back. His expression didn't change. There was a very slight twitch at one corner of his mouth—something between apology and sheepishness—that Jordan had never seen on him before.
[...Sorry. Occupational habit.]
Jordan stared at the Stand crouching next to his head.
The Stand stared back at him from next to his head.
Two extremely handsome young men regarded each other in a silence that lasted long enough to become its own kind of communication.
Jordan sat up.
F-boy straightened, adjusted his tie, and resumed floating at the standard altitude of a professional who had not been doing anything unusual.
"We never discuss this," Jordan said.
F-boy offered one dignified nod of agreement and dissolved back into the ambient light.
Jordan stood, rolled his shoulders, and walked to the door. The moment his hand closed around the handle, the force field he'd injected into the building's entire structure dissipated quietly—pressure releasing through the walls and ceiling like a held breath finally let go.
He stepped out into the hallway.
From the balcony came the sound of heavy metal being set down on concrete. Jordan crossed to the living room doorway and found Genos lowering a significant stack of alloy plating onto the balcony floor with the focused economy of someone who has assessed a structural problem and is correcting it.
"Genos, what's—"
"There have been two earthquakes," Saitama said, with the seriousness of a man reporting a verified fact. He was already rolling up his sleeves. "Back to back. Genos wants to reinforce the building. I agree with him."
Genos straightened and nodded once. "Correct."
Jordan considered the stack of alloy plates. He considered the two men prepared to spend an afternoon reinforcing a building that had, to his knowledge, not experienced any seismic activity today.
"...There was an earthquake?"
"Two," Saitama confirmed.
Jordan processed this. The force field had, in hindsight, perhaps not been as perfectly sealed as he'd assumed. Or the sheer output of a hundred-plus Divine Draws and one impromptu demonstration of gravity-distorting chakra density had registered as something even through the reinforcement.
"Good luck," he said sincerely. "Genos—solid work on that." He grabbed his jacket from the hook by the door. "Saitama, I have to step out for a bit."
"Sure." Saitama had already picked up the first alloy sheet.
Genos stepped aside to clear the balcony exit, straightening with a nod. "Understood, Jordan."
Saitama set down the sheet, glanced at his disciple, and something in his expression shifted into the particular energy of a man who has found a project worth doing properly.
"Come on, Genos. Let's do this right."
Genos stood up a full inch taller. "Yes, Sensei!"
Jordan let himself out, smiling.
The abandoned park was in the northwestern quadrant of Z-City, about twelve minutes by foot from the apartment—or three seconds with Instant Transmission, which was the version Jordan used.
Nobody came here anymore. The Hero Association had designated it a low-priority area after the last round of monster incidents had driven out what remained of the local foot traffic, and the maintenance budget had quietly been reallocated elsewhere. The result was a space that had been slowly reclaimed: weeds waist-high across the paths and the open squares, the benches and swing sets wearing a thick coat of grime and rust, the whole place carrying the specific atmosphere of somewhere that had been forgotten by the people who used to care about it.
Jordan surveyed it, nodded once, and took a deep breath.
His pectoral muscles expanded under his shirt.
He pressed his palms together in front of his chest—the familiar sequence of the Tiger Seal—and exhaled.
"Fire Release: Great Fireball Technique."
A sphere of fire ten meters in diameter rolled forward from his mouth, and everything in its path discovered simultaneously that it was, in fact, highly flammable. The waist-high weeds went first, burning clean and fast. The flames spread across the paths and squares in a racing orange front, thick smoke rising immediately into the afternoon air, filling the park with the sharp smell of burning biomass.
Jordan watched the weeds burn down to the root line. Then he took another breath.
This one was not a ninjutsu.
"Normal Blowing."
The gale hit the burning park like a wall. A mournful howl rang through the empty space as the airflow—moving fast enough to compress into something approaching a vacuum along its leading edge—swept over the fire and simply cancelled it. Not smothered. Cancelled. The flames had intended to climb higher with the added oxygen, and instead found themselves traveling at several hundred kilometers per hour in a direction they had not planned for.
In three seconds: no fire. No smoke. No weeds.
The black ash and the burnt smell were both gone, swept somewhere downrange by the surging airflow. The park square was clean bare earth and naked pavement, scraped to an almost clinical tidiness by the passage of the wind.
Jordan walked forward into the empty space and looked around.
Flat. Clean. Solid footing in every direction.
He clapped his hands together once, satisfied with the preparation.
Time to get to work.
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