The forest was a fucking death trap. Every bush hid a treacherous root, every shadow cast by the canopy seemed to conceal a threat. Moving as a slime was a shitty experience. He glided, absorbing debris and dew, progressing at a snail's pace. The Great Sage ran constantly, mapping his surroundings, analyzing chakra flows, identifying critters to avoid. He didn't need to breathe, but a constant tension gripped him. He was potential prey. A curiosity. A thing.
[Suggestion: Use 'Polymorphism' to optimize locomotion. Model a form with low friction coefficient.]
The Great Sage's voice was calm, logical, a stark contrast to the chaotic mess around him. He focused. His gelatinous form trembled, flattened, stretched. He became a sort of oval, slippery raft. Fuck, that was better. He now zipped over the forest floor, dodging obstacles with surprising agility. It was weird. His body responded to his will with perfect fluidity, like a long-forgotten muscle.
His goal was simple: find water. The Great Sage had detected a stream nearby, and water was a source of information, a chakra conduit, a way to hide and feed. Predator could filter microorganisms, algae. It wasn't a feast, but it kept his energy reserves stable.
He reached the stream's bank. The water was clear, cold. He let himself sink into it with an almost sensual pleasure. The sensation was new. The water enveloped him, cleansed him, and through it, his Magic Perception extended. He sensed fish, insects, tree roots drinking deep. He also sensed something else. Chakra residues. Faint, old, but undeniable. Traces of passage.
[Analysis: Human chakra residues. Multiple individuals. Signature type 'Body Transformation' and 'Clone' detected. Probability: Shinobi on training or mission.]
Ninjas. They'd been here. Maybe even recently. A surge of adrenaline—or its slimy equivalent—coursed through him. The danger was real. He was just a gelatinous shit facing guys who could spit fire and walk on walls.
He moved upstream, using the water's flow to move faster, masking his energy signature in the environment's natural chakra. Absolute Isolation did its job, making his signature nearly undetectable, a ghost in the system.
After an hour of navigation, the trees began to thin. The smell changed. Wood smoke, tilled earth, livestock shit. An orange glow pierced through the foliage. Evening was falling.
He stopped, pressed himself against a mossy rock at the forest's edge. And he saw.
Konoha.
From afar, it was the cliff first. The monumental faces of the Hokage, carved into the stone, impassive, commanding. A fucking power statement. Then the village itself, nestled in the valley, surrounded by walls. Lights flickered on one by one, sketching a grid of life. It was… massive. Alive. Way more impressive than in the manga.
And between him and the village were the fields. Open terrain, hard to cross without being seen. Farmers were packing up their tools, kids running on dirt paths.
[Calculating optimal infiltration trajectory. Risk factors: high. Recommendation: Wait for deep night. Use the most discreet form possible.]
"No," he thought. Waiting was bullshit. Every lost minute was a missed opportunity. He needed to observe, learn.
He focused on Polymorphism again. He couldn't yet take a human form—it was too complex, too energy-intensive. But he could keep it simple. Very simple. His blue form shimmered, changed texture and color. In seconds, he looked like a muddy puddle, perfectly camouflaged on the damp ground. He moved slowly, out of the stream, blending into the shadows of hedges, slinking along a dirt path.
He posted up near a well, at the entrance of a small farm. He watched. He listened. The conversations were mundane. Crops, weather, the price of rice. A kid talked about wanting to be a ninja. His mom laughed in his face. Normality. Was this the ninja world? A facade of normalcy slapped over a volcano of violence.
Suddenly, a swift movement on the path. Two silhouettes appeared, moving with animalistic grace and speed. They wore headbands with Konoha's symbol. Genin, maybe chūnin. They stopped dead a few meters from his hiding spot.
"You sure you sensed something?" one whispered, eyes scanning the surroundings.
"Something weird. Like chakra, but… different. Weak. It's gone now."
Shit. Absolute Isolation held, but he must've let a tiny leak slip, a moment of carelessness. He froze, becoming as inert as a real puddle.
The second ninja shrugged. "Probably a badger or a fucking field rat. Stop being paranoid, we're late for the report."
They took off as fast as they'd arrived, leaving a cloud of dust behind.
The slime stayed still for a long time, his "heart" pounding. Too close. Way too fucking close. These guys were fast, alert. Konoha wasn't an open fortress.
Night had now fallen. Stars dotted the sky. He had to move. The system's quest ordered him to reach the cemetery. It was madness. But the penalty was worse.
He started moving again, crawling in the darkness, avoiding houses, heading toward the village's imposing wall. He followed its length, searching for a crack, a sewer, any kind of conduit.
That's when he felt it. An older, deeper energy signature than anything he'd sensed before. It came from underground, inside the village walls. An energy of wood, life, creation. Powerful, but dormant. Dead, yet lingering.
[Analysis: Chakra signature matching 97.4% to that of Hashirama Senju, the First Hokage. Source: Likely DNA samples or bodily remains.]
The cemetery. Or maybe a secret lab. Didn't matter. The target was there. Somewhere beneath him.
A cold resolve filled him. He'd find a way in. He'd learn the rules of this crazy world. He'd grow stronger. And he'd dig up that fucking corpse, because the system demanded it, and for now, the system was his only goddamn guide in this mess.
He melted into the shadow of a bridge, becoming an invisible patch of dampness, patient, waiting for his moment. Konoha slept. He didn't.