Fairness demanded that Tsunade admit this:
If anyone else—any ordinary shinobi, even someone at Kage level—were standing in front of her right now, hearing what she had just declared, they would've already been shaken to the core.
Forcing a bloodline's latent potential to awaken—what did that mean?
It meant the wall that had trapped the shinobi world for generations—kekkei genkai being a lottery of blood and luck, difficult to replicate, impossible to stabilize—had been torn open.
Even if only a crack.
That was enough to overturn the entire balance of power. Enough to be carved into history.
Unfortunately—
The person standing across from her was Orochimaru.
One of the Three Sannin.
And among all humans of this era, the one who had pushed deepest into the secrets of the body, the nature of chakra, and the brink of taboo.
After a brief silence, Orochimaru didn't clap. Didn't praise. Didn't gasp in awe.
She tilted her head, golden slit pupils sharp as scalpels, scrutinizing Tsunade as if she intended to dissect every micro-expression.
"Tsunade," she said, voice low and husky.
"I'll admit you're the strongest medical-nin in the shinobi world. But your strength has always been in your hands—your ability to turn theory into practice."
Her mouth curved into a faint, meaning-laden smile.
"But when it comes to deep theoretical frameworks—chakra's integration with the human body—your depth…"
She shook her head lightly.
"Forgive me for saying so. But from where I stand, you're still far behind. Very far."
She stepped forward until they were nearly chest-to-chest, the pressure of proximity distorting the contact between them.
"I don't believe you could complete a technique like this—something that forcibly awakens a bloodline limit—using only the medical knowledge you currently possess."
Her eyes narrowed.
"So tell me."
"What are you hiding?"
The pride on Tsunade's face drained away like a receding tide, replaced by the weary look of someone who knew she'd never fool Orochimaru.
She sighed.
"You really don't leave anyone any dignity, do you?"
Then she nodded, frank.
"Fine. You're right."
"The decisive step—what made the technique actually possible—came from another world's system of knowledge."
"Another world's knowledge?"
Orochimaru's snake eyes filled with pure curiosity.
"Yes," Tsunade said. "That world has something called magecraft—a knowledge system that can reliably reproduce supernatural effects through fixed rituals and procedures."
"Fixed methods. Stable reproduction."
Orochimaru let out a short laugh.
"That's just science, isn't it? Building models, repeating experiments, verifying laws—then producing the same outcome on demand."
"Science?"
Tsunade blinked.
She had led research in Konoha's hospital. She had pushed standardization in medical ninjutsu. She knew exactly what the word meant.
A flash of realization split her mind.
Yes—magecraft, despite its cloak of mystery, pursued the same core: stable replication. The logic wasn't far from science at all. The only difference was the energy and medium.
She shook the philosophical detour away.
"Names don't matter. In that world, maybe it's another form of science. Maybe to them it's 'mystery.'"
"What matters is how I borrowed it."
Her gaze sharpened again.
"With my groupmates' help, I used chakra as the power source to simulate, release, and finally dismantle magecraft's operating method. Once I grasped its critical essence…"
"…I fused and rebuilt it inside our chakra system."
As she spoke, Tsunade slowly raised her right hand, palm up—as if presenting proof.
"Orochimaru. Think."
Chakra gathered in her other hand, forming a blade so thin it looked like a cicada's wing—blue, luminous, a chakra scalpel.
"In the shinobi world, what is the core principle behind medical ninjutsu—Mystical Palm Technique and the rest?"
She didn't wait for an answer.
"We force chakra into the body to stimulate cells, accelerating division. That's how we repair wounds and regenerate tissue."
Her eyes fixed on her own palm.
"But after traveling to other worlds, I realized something: our 'brutal' healing only works because shinobi-world humans are fundamentally different from humans elsewhere."
"Our total cell count—our baseline reserves and activity—are on another level. Conservatively? At least triple theirs."
"That's why we can heal so fast while spending cells like fuel."
"If you used our method on people from other worlds…"
Her tone grew heavy.
"You'd drain their limited reserves to nothing. It would be murder."
Before the final word even settled—
The chakra scalpel sliced across Tsunade's right palm.
Fast. Clean. Merciless.
A long gash opened, deep enough to show what lay beneath. Blood surged out at once, gathering into a line before dripping off her palm.
Tap… tap…
Orochimaru's attention snapped to the wound. As someone who understood anatomy intimately, she could already estimate healing timelines by angle and depth—
Then her cold, analytical stare shuddered.
There was no flesh writhing.
No visible cell proliferation.
No intermediate "healing process" at all.
The blood vanished instantly.
The split flesh closed as if overwritten.
One moment: torn open.
The next: her palm was flawless—smooth, unmarked, without even the hint of a scar.
As though the wound had never existed.
Orochimaru's pupils contracted slightly.
She knew Tsunade's healing was monstrous—but even the strongest medical ninjutsu had a process. Tissue reconstruction took time.
What she had just seen was beyond any conventional framework.
Shock lasted only a heartbeat before Orochimaru shoved it down and switched fully into dissection-mode.
She didn't ask how yet.
She went straight for the core:
"Then, compared to standard medical ninjutsu, this technique of yours…"
She paused.
Tsunade supplied the term at once.
"I call it Reenactment."
"Fine. Reenactment." Orochimaru nodded. "What's the chakra cost profile compared to conventional healing?"
Tsunade's eyes lit with approval.
"You caught the key immediately."
"Standard medical ninjutsu is repair. The larger the wound, the more tissue is missing—the number of cells you must stimulate rises geometrically. Chakra consumption snowballs exponentially."
"That's why limb regeneration is practically impossible. The cost is obscene."
She extended her now-perfect right hand again.
"But Reenactment is different."
"It's not powered by 'how much has to be repaired.' It's powered by the information volume and scale of the state you need to reenact."
"So the chakra cost doesn't track wound area or volume in the same way."
"It behaves much closer to linear growth."
She spoke faster, excitement sharpening her voice.
"And that means—small injuries? A shallow cut, a minor fracture—fine chakra control with standard healing will cost far less than Reenactment. Because Reenactment must restore a complete localized state, and even that 'small patch' has a relatively fixed overhead."
"But once the damage crosses a threshold—an arm severed, organs shredded, major tissue loss…"
"Standard healing becomes a bottomless pit. Not even humanly possible."
"Reenactment's increase is far lower."
"It can do what standard healing can't even approach—create an entire new arm, a new heart, from nothing."
Tsunade's voice hit like a hammer.
"This isn't regeneration, Orochimaru."
"This is creation out of nothing."
Then she abruptly changed tone, the corner of her mouth curling into something sly.
"And Orochimaru… you've watched me for a long time."
"Did you really not notice… what's different about me now?"
She stressed the word now—and especially before.
"What difference—"
Orochimaru started instinctively, and then a memory slammed into place. Her golden gaze snapped across Tsunade's face, neck, arms—every visible inch of skin.
This wasn't distant inspection anymore.
It was a meticulous scan, inch by inch: texture, tension, micro-lines, muscle tone.
A few seconds of dead silence.
Then Orochimaru's body stiffened.
Those calculating snake eyes narrowed into a razor-thin slit.
"Impossible."
The word tore out of her throat like a hiss.
She stepped in so fast her composure didn't even have time to follow.
Her fingers shot toward Tsunade's arm.
Tsunade didn't dodge. She simply offered her forearm.
A microscopic chakra scalpel formed at Orochimaru's fingertip.
With terrifying precision, she cut a shallow coin-sized incision on the outer forearm, then—almost reverently—peeled off a complete fragment of skin and held it on her fingertip.
Time stretched thin.
That piece of skin—severed from Tsunade's body, no longer fed chakra—rested on Orochimaru's trembling finger.
And—
Nothing happened.
No withering.
No dulling.
No collapse, shriveling, or "return to age."
It remained exactly as it had been: full, elastic, healthy—radiating the vitality of youth.
Orochimaru's breathing quickened.
Her gaze snapped from the skin fragment to Tsunade's arm—already restored by Reenactment—and her mind accelerated.
She understood Tsunade better than anyone.
Tsunade's youth had never been true rejuvenation.
It had been a sustained illusion—maintained by enormous chakra expenditure, forcibly stimulating cells to keep them dividing and renewing. Like pouring fuel into a dying candle to keep it burning.
Cut off the chakra supply, and the forced activation would collapse—cells would age back toward the true baseline.
That was the rule.
But this fragment—detached, unfed—showed no sign of returning.
This wasn't a chakra-maintained mirage.
This was a fundamental reversal.
A transformation of the body's root state.
Tsunade's body had truly returned to youth.
"Reenactment…" Orochimaru's voice rasped, like sandpaper over raw throat. Hunger and frustration twisted together inside it.
"You… you've obtained genuine eternal youth?"
She stared at Tsunade—shock like a tidal wave—followed immediately by jealousy, fanatic desire, and a bitter, helpless edge.
How many years had she spent?
How many sacrifices?
How many betrayals?
How many taboos crossed?
Just to claw out a half-measure like Living Corpse Reincarnation—jumping bodies, abandoning decay, grinding the soul down with each transfer.
Risk. Soul erosion. Conflict with the host's will.
Even then, it was only survival. A string of borrowed youth. A parade of bodies destined to rot.
And Tsunade—by touching knowledge from other worlds—had stepped onto the very summit Orochimaru had chased her entire life.
Not simply "living longer."
But reversing time itself.
Life returning to its origin.
A true path toward immortality.
The disparity almost swallowed Orochimaru whole.
But she was Orochimaru.
The emotional storm arrived violent—and faded just as fast.
Within a few breaths, jealousy and resentment were crushed under colder, stronger forces:
Rationality.
Greed.
If Tsunade could do it, then through Tsunade's organization, Orochimaru could access other worlds too.
And if Tsunade had achieved this with her own hands—
Then the Orochimaru who was better at research would not remain behind forever.
It wasn't too late.
"This technique," Orochimaru said, voice fully controlled again—though excitement vibrated under it like a restrained blade.
"What are its limits?"
She asked the only question that mattered.
A road to truth was never free of thorns.
Tsunade's smugness vanished. In its place: tired resignation.
"Limits?" She gave a bitter smile. "The limits are huge."
"Especially in medical applications."
"In terms of general usability… it's close to terrible."
She pointed to herself.
"I can do this so easily for one reason: I have a foundation no one else has."
"The Strength of a Hundred Seal—decades of it."
"Because of that seal, I've accumulated an absurd, almost instinctive understanding of my body in its youthful peak—skin patterning, muscle fiber distributions, fat layer thickness, even the rhythm of bloodflow."
She grew deadly serious.
"Even then, right now, what I've truly 're-enacted' back to youth is mostly the surface—skin, and some muscles and fat that shape the exterior."
"The deeper systems—organs, bones, the nervous network's micro-junctions…"
"Those are still maintained at peak function through traditional chakra-based stimulation."
"A full-body reversal is still far away."
Orochimaru nodded slowly, understanding shining in her eyes.
"So it's essentially a self-only technique."
"It demands extreme medical knowledge… and cell-level insight into your own body. Otherwise you'd need decades—like your Yin Seal accumulation—grinding knowledge into instinct just to approach similar results."
The barrier was so high it would crush ninety-nine percent of shinobi on sight.
"Yes," Tsunade confirmed.
Then her eyes flared with new light.
"But I don't believe Reenactment's future is limited to self-healing."
"I have a concept."
"If we can develop a universal artificial bio-tissue unit—like a perfect clay that can imitate any body's information and fuse without rejection…"
"Then a healer could use that universal unit with Reenactment's principles to repair others."
"They wouldn't need to understand the patient down to the bone. They'd only need to understand the universal unit."
That could push medical ninjutsu into an entirely new era.
But to Tsunade's surprise—
Orochimaru's excitement cooled. Dimmed.
She shook her head, voice turning cold—the cold of a true researcher.
"Universal, Tsunade… it sounds beautiful. But it usually means mediocrity."
"It means sacrificing the extreme potential born from uniqueness in order to maximize compatibility."
Tsunade stiffened.
Orochimaru's eyes held only calculation.
"A material that fits everyone must be simplified—flattened into the greatest common denominator of countless bodies."
"Yes, it might close wounds. It might regrow a fingertip."
"But—"
Her voice sharpened.
"Can it perfectly recreate the neural networks around the Byakugan or Sharingan?"
"Can it reproduce the Kaguya clan's free-form bone manipulation?"
"Can that simulated tissue carry those one-of-a-kind kekkei genkai?"
Orochimaru's voice softened again, calm and merciless.
"Your method is a workable shortcut. It lowers the entry bar and expands usage."
"But it will never touch perfection."
"The deeper route is the one you accidentally pointed at earlier."
She locked onto Tsunade.
"The caster must possess micro-level detection ability—medical knowledge vast as an ocean."
"The moment they touch a patient, they must be able to copy the entire body's information without delay."
"Then…"
Her voice gained a dangerous, skin-crawling heat.
"Use Reenactment to precisely recreate the missing or damaged part."
"A flawless completion."
"That is the path to truth."
A cold chill shot up Tsunade's spine.
If her "universal unit" idea ultimately standardized everyone into one mold—
Then Orochimaru's endpoint was worse:
A technique capable of copying a living human from the most microscopic level.
If you copied a person completely—
Could the copy think?
Would it carry the copied consciousness and memory state at the moment of duplication?
That wasn't medical progress anymore.
That was the boundary of life's taboo.
Tsunade took an involuntary step back, face paling.
"Your idea…"
Her voice rasped, a faint tremor betraying her.
"It could create enormous hazards."
"And…"
She forced herself back onto safer ground.
"The requirement is too high. There are too few people in the shinobi world who could reach that kind of micro-sense plus medical peak."
"Maybe… we should have others give up on directly reenacting flesh."
"Instead, have them use Reenactment to reenact the effects of conventional medical ninjutsu."
Her logic quickened.
"Yes, reenacting a technique's effect might be harder than learning the technique normally—"
"But the shinobi world is vast. Strange talents exist."
"There may be people whose aptitude for Reenactment is naturally far beyond their aptitude for medical ninjutsu."
Magecraft from that other world—
If you tried to directly interfere with matter and create something from nothing, the difficulty was absurd.
What magecraft excelled at was using magical energy as leverage—nudging rules indirectly to affect reality.
A simple example:
You want to break a cup.
Condense a little energy into a projectile and smash it—easy.
But if you want to overwrite reality so that the "broken state" replaces the intact cup directly…
The energy and rule-analysis requirements become incomparably higher.
Why could Tsunade reenact her own younger skin so freely?
Was it purely because of the Yin Seal's enormous chakra reserves?
Partly.
But the deeper core was her decades-long familiarity with her own body's structure and operation.
In Reenactment, the concept of self mattered.
As one of her groupmates had put it: the self is the only thing that can assert itself against the world without conditions.
Trying to reenact a handgun, a sword, a warship, a cannon—
Absurd.
Even if you understood its structure deeply, pulling it fully out of nothing demanded chakra on a hopeless scale.
Unless the object was part of your "self," even something as small as a kunai could cost an entire card's worth of chakra.
In comparison, using Yin–Yang Release's creation aspect to produce a kunai was far cheaper than brute-force reenacting it.
So if Reenactment was born from magecraft logic, its most scalable path in the shinobi world wasn't direct matter-creation.
It was reenacting existing ninjutsu forms and effects—indirectly influencing the material world.
If you defined the difficulty of "a shinobi with monstrous sensory talent but zero medical training reenacting Tsunade's ordinary healing effect" as 1—
Then the difficulty of that same shinobi reenacting their own body's pre-injury state to instantly patch a fatal wound might be 100, even 1000.
That gulf wasn't effort alone.
It was talent and accumulated embodiment.
When Tsunade finished laying it out, Orochimaru's slit pupils rotated slightly, a sharp light passing through them.
She rubbed her smooth chin, smiling—genuinely pleased.
"So that's it…"
"This technique's true nature isn't limited to flesh."
"The reason you've only demonstrated it on the body…"
"…is because the thing you understand most deeply is your own body."
Tsunade paused, then nodded.
"Yes."
"In theory, it can reenact almost anything—matter or phenomenon—as long as chakra can support it."
"But the prerequisite is deep understanding—so deep it touches the essence."
She tapped her chest lightly—an absent, physical emphasis of "me."
"I spent decades learning this body. That's why I can repair it."
"Anything else?"
She shrugged, helpless.
"The difficulty is… extremely high."
Orochimaru's voice rose with a faint, delighted lilt.
"Then this becomes very interesting."
"It favors sensory-type shinobi."
"The future balance of the shinobi world… sensory ninja are going to explode in value."
And then—without warning—Orochimaru's thoughts snapped to a white-haired genius with a mask and a lazy gaze:
Kakashi Hatake.
If someone with Sharingan-level perception—someone who already carried the name "Copy Ninja"—learned Reenactment…
With his calculation ability…
"Copy Ninja…" Orochimaru murmured, almost to herself.
"That title might stop being a joke."
"And become literal."
As for the Uchiha clan—already dust in history—
Orochimaru's mouth curved into a cold arc.
Those who relied too heavily on instinct and bloodline gifts, in her view, would never master a technique demanding ruthless analysis and precision control.
And the vessel she once coveted—Uchiha Sasuke—
If you could fully dissect the Sharingan's secrets, then the container carrying those secrets would lose its value.
No—
Orochimaru's pupils snapped thinner.
A more insane idea detonated in her mind.
Maybe… even the body itself was unnecessary.
Tsunade stared at those flickering, predatory eyes and felt alarm bells explode in her skull.
She knew Orochimaru. That wasn't "simple excitement."
That was a chain reaction of forbidden plans—spawned by Reenactment.
She almost regretted telling her.
Almost.
She exhaled, heavy and tired.
But reason told her: she had no choice.
Orochimaru's talent was unmatched. If Tsunade wanted to force this stagnant world forward quickly, Orochimaru was the most efficient tool imaginable.
And even if Tsunade didn't guide her, Orochimaru would find Reenactment sooner or later.
Letting her research it in some dark corner—unchecked—was the real nightmare.
Better to keep the venomous snake where you could see it, than let it breed disasters in the shadows.
"Enough, Orochimaru!"
Tsunade raised her voice, severing the spiral.
"Reenactment can wait. We'll have time to chew it to death later."
"I'll answer the first question you asked."
"Why I think the shinobi world is inefficient."
Orochimaru's irritation flickered, then vanished—swallowed by curiosity.
She tilted her head, waiting.
"When I used the main group to truly visit other worlds…"
Tsunade's voice carried genuine shock—and something like grief.
"I finally understood what real disparity looks like."
"Compared to them, the shinobi world is stagnant."
She stared at Orochimaru.
"I read their histories."
"Not centuries. Not decades."
"Years."
"In just a few years, their world can undergo earth-shaking change. And as knowledge stacks and techniques compound…"
"The speed only accelerates. Faster. More terrifying."
Orochimaru's pupils tightened slightly. The description struck somewhere deep.
"What's the root of that?" Tsunade asked herself—and answered.
"Because every person is moving something forward."
"Farmers improve soil. Craftsmen refine skills. Scholars deepen disciplines. Workers build machines."
"Countless people, in countless tiny fields, pushing history forward like ants carrying a mountain."
"All of that effort braided together becomes unstoppable development."
"And we have hundreds of millions of people, but most are trapped on land just to survive."
"And shinobi?"
"War. Endless cycles of war."
"Plunder, slaughter, revenge—over and over."
"From the day my great-grandfather created the village system and ended the Warring States…"
"…to now, decades have passed."
"All that changed is that conflict became more organized."
The essence didn't progress at all.
"Technology stagnates. Thought calcifies. Institutions rot."
"People live and think the same as in my grandfather's era."
Orochimaru's body trembled—so subtly it could've been imagined.
Tsunade had stabbed the exact spot Orochimaru had hidden for years.
A dead pool.
That was what Orochimaru had always felt.
The Konoha Crush wasn't born from a desire to destroy.
It was born from a desire to shock the dead pool into moving—because chaos is soil for new order.
Even the return of Hashirama, even absolute power, couldn't truly reform minds and systems.
Power could force obedience.
It couldn't create renewal.
And Orochimaru knew, better than anyone, that stirring the pool wasn't enough.
The sludge ran too deep. The pool was too wide. One person—or one village—was never enough.
Without correct ideas, without a viable blueprint, power became a headless fly.
Like the village system itself: it ended one era of war only to birth a more efficient form of war under the mask of order.
"…I understand you," Orochimaru said at last.
Her voice was low.
"This stagnation is suffocating."
"But, Tsunade—"
Her eyes locked onto Tsunade's.
"Why do you want to change it?"
She leaned forward. Pressure gathered again.
"From what I see, you already stripped away every social identity that once bound you."
"Princess of the Senju? You abandoned the responsibility that crown demanded."
"Granddaughter of the God of Shinobi? That title gave you more pressure than pride."
"One of the Three Sannin? You exiled yourself, drowning in alcohol and gambling."
"Student of Hiruzen Sarutobi? How much of that bond is even left in your heart?"
"One by one, you threw those identities away."
"You cut yourself out of this dead pool."
"So tell me—"
Her voice lowered, sharper, more penetrating.
"Why does someone who already let go… reach back in?"
"What is your purpose?"
Tsunade was silent for a long time.
Then she sighed.
"A few days ago… the first time I saw the Possibility Clone item, I bought it immediately."
She didn't look at Orochimaru as she spoke—like she was recounting a trivial fact.
"And the clone I summoned lived a completely different life from mine."
"She had two children."
Tsunade didn't continue.
She only sighed again—quiet, flat, exhausted.
But for Orochimaru, it was enough.
Her pupils shrank—then slowly widened.
Resurrection.
That was the target.
Bring Dan and Nawaki back.
Was the driving force love?
The word surfaced automatically—then Orochimaru crushed it within the same heartbeat.
Resurrecting Dan was likely real.
But not "love."
Would a fifty-something Sannin—who had crawled through wars, lost everyone, numbed herself with alcohol and cards—still believe in something that naive?
Orochimaru's gaze pinned Tsunade's profile, trying to peel back her shell and find a motive that fit the world.
Guilt?
A decades-long parasite for failing to save her brother and her lover?
Regret?
A desperate need to defy the cruelty of fate?
Or—
Was Tsunade herself fooled by the surface?
Perhaps she truly believed "love" was what drove her, because admitting guilt was harder. Self-deception: the most addictive anesthetic.
Orochimaru's lips curled into a thin, icy smile.
She didn't expose it.
She simply waited—almost happily.
Because one day, if Tsunade truly pushed the shinobi world into explosive development…
If humanity eventually broke the boundary of life and death…
If Dan truly returned—frozen in the time of decades ago—
Then the result would be inevitable.
On one side: Tsunade, a ruler of an entirely transformed world, weighted with decades of power, distance, and change.
On the other: Dan, preserved at death's timestamp, carrying an old era's thinking and scale.
The moment he opened his eyes and saw her—
No words would be required.
Time itself would be the gulf between them.
Dan would still be Dan—but not the Dan Tsunade had polished in memory.
And Tsunade would no longer be the Senju princess Dan had once known.
That moment of clarity and collapse would be… exquisite.
Orochimaru didn't say any of that out loud.
She just smiled—quietly—full of anticipation.
For a moment, that anticipation even surpassed her hunger for Reenactment.
No matter what happened, it would be worth watching.
Join here to read ahead.
In Star Rail, Ultra-Beast Armored — Have I Caught "Equilibrium"? l (Chapter 80)
Uma Musume, But I Only Have Five Years Left to Live (Chapter 178)
Zenless Zone Zero: I'm a Doctor, Not a Bangboo (Chapter 147)
Ben Tennyson Wants to Join the Justice League ( 126 )
TYPE-MOON: Redemption Beginning with the Holy Grail War (Chapter110)
Yu-Gi-Oh! — Transmigrated into the White Dragon Girl (Chapter185)
"Is this chat group even serious?" (Chapter105)
I, Lord Ravager, Utterly Loyal! (Chapter215)
Can Playing Games Save the World? 65
Crossover Anime Multiverse: The Demon Hunter of an Unnatural World 77
From Junkman to Wasteland 66
Weekly Refresh of Overpowered 31
I'm Grinding Proficiency Like 46
From Kiana, Lord Ravager, Onwa 185
Honkai: Is This Still the Prev 42
Elf: My Starter Pokémon Is Inc 65
Warhammer: My Primarch Is Remi 170
From Demon Slayer to Grand Ass Volume2/1
The Way the Umamusume Look at 68
Uma Musume, but My Cheat Power 206
Naruto: Weaving the Future, Be 65
Zenless Zone Zero, but Kamen R 76
Multiverse Crossover: The Perf 66
My Cyberpsycho Girlfriend 65
Uma Musume: The Dark Trainer 190
Uma Musume: A Calamity Born fr 154
I, a Reincarnation-Loop Player Volume4/23
The Violent Girl Group Is Beat 106
Uma Musume: The Horse Girl Who 67
Uma Musume: From Beginner 125
Becoming a Horse Girl, I Will 85
Uma Musume: I Want All 105
I Can Copy Unique Skills 90
Summoning an Evil God, but the 70
Supernatural Multiverse 90
My Harem Is Indescribable 80
Jujutsu Kaisen: Heroic Spirit 86
"I'm just a Valkyrie passing through." 68
Uma Musume: Today Is Another Romantic Battlefield 81
Still playing traditional Honk 65
The Most Filial Son Under Heav 65
What Should I Do After Switchi - Volume2/3
Reincarnated as a Demon, Skill 57
Hell-Difficulty Dungeon? 45
Transmigrated as Sukuna 59
Checking In in Demon Slayer 59
The Reincarnating Trainer of Tracen Academy 73
I Refuse to Become a Heroic 45
My Best Friend Into a Slime? 36
A Saiyan Stands Above Marvel 40
What Do You Mean by Using a Lab Mod to Be the Hero? 60
Tanya Starts from Re:Zero 30
Why did they assign me to Uma 35
MYGO Beauties 43
DanMachi: Emiya the Giant Hero 30
The Gacha Merchant Who Started 31
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