The afternoon sun lazed across Konoha's towering front gate.
At the registration booth, Kotetsu Hagane propped his chin on one hand, eyelids so heavy they were practically glued shut. Beside him, Izumo Kamizuki wasn't doing much better—idly flipping through a scroll while his gaze drifted away, fingers absentmindedly tracing lines on the tabletop.
Summer's familiar sluggishness hung in the air.
Kotetsu let out a cavernous yawn.
"Patrol, registration, gate duty… this life is way too boring."
Izumo snapped the scroll shut and rubbed the back of his aching neck.
"Be grateful, Kotetsu. This is the only time we can slack off and breathe. You forgot? The Chunin Exams are coming. Once the crowds from every country pour in, just the registration, ID checks, and order-keeping alone will grind our old bones to dust."
He pictured the coming chaos and wore the expression of a man thinking, Well, the good days are over.
"Yeah…" Kotetsu muttered, lifting both legs onto the desk edge and shifting into an even comfier sprawl, eyes half-lidded as he prepared to savor what remained of the calm.
He was even considering whether to request a post as an exam proctor.
At least it had to be easier than staring at a gate all day.
But the peace didn't last.
Kotetsu's casual glance down the road suddenly froze.
At the far edge of his vision, a tiny flicker of gold cut through the shimmering heat haze—charging toward the gate at a terrifying speed.
Faster than any traveler.
Faster than most elite shinobi in full sprint.
"That is…?" Kotetsu's pupils snapped tight. His legs hit the ground with a thump as he surged upright.
The blurred silhouette sharpened in an instant—sun-bright blonde hair streaming behind, the unmistakable green haori snapping in the wind, an angular, fearless face—
"Lady Tsunade!"
The shout tore out of him, voice cracking. His arm shot up, finger trembling as he pointed.
Izumo nearly jumped out of his skin. He followed Kotetsu's line of sight, and his own breath caught hard in his throat.
"No way—she's back?! Tsunade-sama… she's really coming back to Konoha?!"
The golden figure devoured the last distance like a teleport, stopping cleanly before the gate.
Dusty from travel, yes—but her eyes still held that bold, unbroken shine.
Tsunade. One of the Legendary Sannin. The First Hokage's granddaughter. Konoha's princess.
She was here.
Kotetsu and Izumo stood there like statues, hands suddenly sweating.
Tsunade gave them a small nod—tired, but composed—then swept her gaze over the familiar gate and the village beyond it. Something complicated churned in her chest.
She stepped up to the registration desk, took the pen, and signed the entry ledger with swift, decisive strokes. Even her handwriting was the same: forceful and clean.
"Tsunade-sama… you're really returning to the village?" Kotetsu asked, still sounding like he couldn't believe his own ears.
"Yeah." She set the pen down and didn't linger. She passed through the gate without ceremony, leaving the two guards staring at each other in stunned silence.
Her return ignited Konoha instantly.
As she strode down the central avenue, her gait steady and strong, people began to stop—first a few, rubbing their eyes as if they'd mistaken a mirage for reality.
Then the whispers started. Low gasps. Disbelieving murmurs.
"Hey… are you seeing this?"
"That—that presence… it has to be her!"
"Tsunade-hime?! I thought she…"
"No, it's real—Tsunade-sama is back!"
The news spread like wind.
Shopfronts and homes emptied. Villagers poured into the street, lining both sides as if summoned by something older than reason.
The elderly—those who still remembered the glory of the First and Second Hokage—looked as if decades had fallen from their faces. Wrinkles smoothed in shock and reverence, and their clouded eyes lit with fierce, grateful fire.
They clutched their grandchildren's hands so tightly their fingers trembled.
"Grandpa," a little girl asked, craning her head, "who's that pretty big sister? Why is everyone looking at her like that?"
"Fool child," the old man choked out, voice shaking with devotion. "That's not a big sister."
"That's Tsunade-hime. Konoha's legend. The benefactor of us all. She built the medical system—she saved so many lives…"
"Right!" an old man with a cane barked, eyes red-rimmed. "My life—my life came back to me because Tsunade-sama dragged it out of the battlefield!"
The younger villagers didn't all know her stories, not in detail. But watching their elders shake with gratitude, feeling the wave of reverence in the air, they couldn't help staring too—curious, awed, and instinctively respectful.
And those who'd lived through war, who'd been treated in Konoha Hospital, recognized her immediately. Their faces tightened with something like relief and something like hope.
Tsunade walked through it all.
She didn't wave. She didn't give a speech. She only dipped her head now and then, wore a warm but faintly distant smile, and occasionally answered a soft "Long time no see."
She felt the weight of their eyes—nostalgia, gratitude, expectation… and the complicated scrutiny reserved for someone who'd left and returned.
It was a net, invisible and heavy.
And under that silent flood of attention, her steps turned subtly, inexorably, toward the village's depths—toward a house that had been sealed in dust for years.
When she pushed open the old door, the scent of stale wood and settled ash hit her full in the face.
She lifted a hand, waving away the dust motes dancing in the sunbeams. Her eyes moved across the room: furniture shapes hidden under gray cloths; shelves where once-prized ceramics and tools sat dulled beneath a blanket of grime; air so still it felt congealed, only the light through high windows revealing the endless drifting specks.
Then—
Shizune appeared at Tsunade's side with no warning at all.
The little pig in her arms, Tonton, squealed and puffed up in alarm.
Shizune herself jerked like a spooked cat—arching, feet sliding back, arms crossing protectively over her chest as chakra gathered on instinct, her body already in defensive posture—
Until her eyes focused.
Until she recognized that blonde back.
Her tension collapsed all at once, and she exhaled hard.
"Tsunade-sama!"
Shock still trembled in her voice, but it was rapidly swallowed by bright excitement.
"This 'group teleport' space-time technique is incredible! It's like—blink—and you're here!"
"Yeah," Tsunade answered, eyes still on the dust-covered ghosts of her past.
To move as fast as possible, she'd first gone to wherever Shizune was hiding and brought her into the shinobi-world chat group branch. On the way out of Otogakure, she'd also sent invitations to Cocolia and Serval.
Then Tsunade had returned to Konoha alone, planning to use the group's teleport function to pull people over instantly afterward. The most time-efficient route.
Orochimaru was still back at the Sound's base, deep in animated discussion with Serval about potential integrations between chakra systems and machinery.
As for Sunagakure, Orochimaru had called up a probability duplicate and sent it to stand in as the Kazekage.
According to her, aside from a slight difference in combat style, it was almost indistinguishable from the original—except it had no self-awareness and couldn't assist with research. Perfect for wearing the mask of power and controlling the Sand.
Bang, bang, bang!
Shizune had already rolled up her sleeves and started cleaning, ripping dust cloths away with brisk efficiency. The swat of a duster against wood echoed harshly in the empty home, stirring up thick clouds of gray.
Tsunade said nothing. She moved into the inner room, brushed the dust from the tatami, and sat down. The fatigue of the road surged up like a tide.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Dust filled her nose.
She rested—briefly. Efficiently.
Then she snapped her eyes open again. The laziness was gone, replaced by a sharp, unwavering focus.
She stood, flicked dust from her clothes, and spoke with crisp decisiveness.
"Shizune. You clean up here."
"Yes!"
"I'm going to see the old man."
Time was tight.
The shadow of the Otsutsuki hung like a blade over everything. There was no room to linger.
At the top floor of the Hokage Tower, the door that represented Konoha's highest authority waited in solemn silence.
The ANBU at the entrance visibly startled when they saw Tsunade. But they didn't block her—only bowed and stepped aside.
Clearly, orders had already been given.
Tsunade pushed the door open.
The Hokage's office was vast and strangely quiet, with only the muffled echo of distant village sounds filtering in through the windows.
Sunlight poured through the large panes and painted bright shapes across the floor.
The air carried a faint bite of tobacco.
The Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, wasn't sitting behind the broad desk.
He wore his white ceremonial cloak, standing with his back to the door, facing the open window. A pipe glowed at his lips, ember brightening and dimming as smoke curled into the room.
A breeze carrying greenery and summer warmed the smoke and scattered it into dissolving rings.
Tsunade's footsteps broke the silence.
Hiruzen turned slowly. Age had carved deep lines into his face, but his eyes—those eyes that had seen too much—filled with undisguised relief, affection, and something like a quiet ache.
He looked at his disciple—the one who'd been gone so long—and countless words gathered behind his teeth.
In the end, they became only a single sentence, warm and heavy as a sigh.
"…You're back, Tsunade."
Five words.
But they carried worry, longing, guilt, and release—like an old father finally seeing a runaway child return.
Tsunade stopped and looked at him, the old man suddenly unfamiliar in his frailty. Something sour tightened in her chest.
Once, he'd been a giant of the shinobi world.
Now time and responsibility had bent his shoulders.
Her mouth moved. She wanted to say something soft.
In the end, it dissolved into a near-silent breath.
She crossed the room, dropped into the visitor's chair with practiced casualness, and fixed him with a direct stare.
"Sensei. I'm taking the position of Fifth Hokage."
"…What?" Hiruzen froze, pipe held midair. The warmth in his eyes hardened into pure astonishment.
For a heartbeat, he looked like he suspected he'd misheard. He drew on the pipe reflexively; the harsh smoke biting his lungs dragged him back to himself.
He sat behind the desk again, leaning forward, the weight of the office settling on him like armor.
He'd been Hokage for too long. He was exhausted.
And he'd been searching for a successor for years. It had become a knot in his heart.
His ideal heir had always been Kakashi Hatake—the Fourth Hokage's student, clean lineage, strong, clever, respected.
But Kakashi's heart was buried under layers of ice, trapped in the shadows of Obito and Rin. He wanted nothing to do with the hat.
Still… Naruto had passed Kakashi's bell test. Perhaps teaching that boy could thaw something. Perhaps Kakashi would find a path again.
Then Naruto could inherit after him.
That would have been perfect.
But if Tsunade was willing to return—willing to shoulder the burden—
It was the best possible outcome.
She was the First's granddaughter, a Sannin, possessed of unmatched prestige and strength. The most suitable candidate alive.
And yet…
Her insistence was too abnormal.
She hated politics. She fled responsibility. She drowned herself in gambling and drink.
For her to demand the Hokage seat this urgently—
A terrifying thought flashed through Hiruzen's mind, and his stomach dropped.
She didn't… rack up some impossible gambling debt again, did she? Is she coming back to use the Hokage office to mortgage the entire village to pay it off?!
His face lost all warmth. Hokage gravity replaced the old man's tenderness.
He set the pipe down, hands clasping on the desk, voice low and serious—almost anxious beneath the sternness.
"Tsunade…"
He hesitated, choosing the bluntest path.
"How much do you owe this time? Tell your teacher. I… I've still got some money put away for my coffin."
He sounded like he was truly ready to throw his last savings into a bottomless pit.
Tsunade stared at him for a second—then rolled her eyes so hard it was practically violent.
Her expression screamed: Old man, are you senile?
"Where did that come from?!" she snapped, waving him off. "I'm serious! I'm taking the Fifth!"
But the more she insisted, the more Hiruzen's instincts screamed that something deeper—something dangerous—was driving her.
He picked the pipe back up and drew a slow breath. Smoke fogged the space between them as his gaze sharpened, searching her face for cracks.
In that moment, he wasn't a teacher missing his student.
He was the Third Hokage, responsible for every life in the village.
"Tsunade," he said evenly, each word measured.
"Tell me the real reason. You are qualified. You are the best candidate for Fifth. I don't doubt that for a second."
"But tell me your goal."
"What will you lead Konoha toward?"
"What is your policy?"
"What is driving you to suddenly choose the burden you used to despise?"
The room turned heavy with silence. Outside, the village's distant noise seemed unreal, muffled and far away.
Only the faint crackle of burning tobacco remained.
Two stares met in the air—locked, pressing, testing.
Tsunade's impatience vanished.
She inhaled once, then stood abruptly.
Her tall frame cast a hard shadow across the office floor.
She planted both hands on the Hokage's desk and leaned forward, amber eyes carrying a gravity Hiruzen had never seen in her before.
Her voice was quiet.
But it hit like a hammer.
"Old man. Listen."
"Because the shinobi world…"
"…is about to have big trouble."
Hiruzen's pipe hand went rigid.
Tsunade didn't pause. She poured out the truth in the bluntest, cleanest language she could.
"Planets. The universe. The nature of our power."
"Chakra—what we build everything on—didn't originate from our world."
"It came from a terrifying species called the Otsutsuki."
"They're interstellar predators. They plant a Divine Tree seed on a living planet, grow a chakra fruit… and devour it."
"And the planet that gets drained…"
"…becomes a dead wasteland."
Each sentence struck Hiruzen's mind like a blunt weapon.
"Our world is one they've already seeded."
"And according to the latest intelligence—"
Tsunade's voice turned icy.
"Twenty years. At most, twenty years until a new Otsutsuki harvester arrives."
"They're coming to take every drop of chakra this planet has accumulated."
"And when they do…"
"Every nation. Every village. Every shinobi. Every living thing…"
"Becomes fuel."
Her eyes burned with uncompromising force.
"Our current strength won't even register to them."
"So do you understand now?"
"If we keep going like this—villages suspicious of each other, internal fights bleeding us dry, the Five Great Nations hoarding resources and crawling forward at a dead pace…"
"Then we're not living."
"We're waiting to die."
"That's not a future I accept."
She straightened, gaze sharp as flame.
"So I came back."
"I'm taking the seat of Fifth Hokage."
"My goal is simple: stabilize and unify Konoha—then unify the entire shinobi world."
"Pool resources. Combine knowledge. Break barriers and prejudices."
"Force development at a speed we've never seen."
"We must race the clock."
"In the next twenty years, we have to raise the whole world's strength as far as it can go."
"That's the only way we earn even a chance to resist what's coming."
By the time she was halfway through, Hiruzen's pipe hand was trembling.
When she finished, his brow had collapsed into a deep furrow.
Smoke drifted in front of his face, and his expression was grim—caught between shock and a mind already grinding through possibilities.
The story was madness.
But he knew Tsunade.
She might gamble. She might be stubborn. She might run from responsibility.
But she would not fabricate something that could decide the fate of the world.
Not with that look in her eyes.
Not with that kind of resolve.
She had evidence—something ironclad.
Shock gave way to dread.
Hiruzen lifted his head with effort, voice rougher than he meant it to be.
"…Tsunade."
He licked dry lips and asked the only question that mattered.
"Where did this information come from?"
"Tell me… is it reliable?"
He stared at her like he needed her to say no.
Like he feared she would say yes.
Tsunade didn't flinch. She met her teacher's gaze head-on.
Then she spoke a name that made Hiruzen's heart seize.
"My source…"
"…is Orochimaru."
The pipe slipped from Hiruzen's fingers.
It thudded onto the desk, scattering ash and burning flecks across paperwork.
His pupils tightened, mind reeling.
Then the old war-hardened reflex snapped him back—his hand shot out and grabbed the pipe again, knuckles whitening.
He looked up, eyes sharp with suspicion and pain.
"You met Orochimaru?"
His voice dropped.
"…Did he deceive you?"
Tsunade shook her head slowly.
"I went to him."
"I found his plan to strike Konoha."
"He'd already killed the Fourth Kazekage. He was going to impersonate him."
"During the Chunin Exams, he planned to join with the Sand and crush Konoha completely."
Hiruzen's breath stuttered.
Even expecting it, hearing the full shape of Orochimaru's scheme made his blood run cold.
"But I defeated him," Tsunade continued, tone flat, simply stating the result.
"I'm letting him continue impersonating the Kazekage and control the Sand."
"And once I become Hokage…"
"We merge Konoha and Sunagakure as the starting point for unifying the shinobi world."
Hiruzen stared at her, pipe clenched between his teeth hard enough to crack it.
Her calm delivery wasn't a performance.
She meant every word.
And if it was Orochimaru…
Hiruzen's thoughts twisted into something bitter.
That genius—misguided, monstrous, brilliant—could he have unearthed traces of such a cosmic truth?
Hiruzen hated admitting it.
But it wasn't impossible.
Silence swallowed the office again, broken only by the soft tap of smoke and the ember's faint glow.
Time passed. Smoke thickened.
Finally, Hiruzen spoke, voice heavy with exhaustion.
"I'm sorry, Tsunade."
"I can't hand you the Hokage seat."
Tsunade's brow lifted, but she didn't interrupt.
Hiruzen's gaze dropped to the mess of ash on the desk.
"Even if I set aside whether your intelligence is… completely accurate…"
"Even if you become Hokage… even if you and Orochimaru cooperate in the shadows…"
"On what basis do you believe you can unify the shinobi world?"
His voice carried the weariness of a man who had watched the same tragedy repeat for decades.
"The wars never truly ended. Hatred keeps cycling back."
"So much blood. So many sacrifices."
"And all we ever bought was a short breath of peace."
"Unless the First Hokage himself rises from the dead—"
"I awakened Wood Release."
The words were calm.
Not loud.
But they hit Hiruzen like a sledgehammer to the chest.
"Cough—!"
He choked violently on smoke, bending at the waist as his lungs seized.
When he finally dragged himself upright, his bloodshot eyes were locked on Tsunade like he was seeing a stranger.
Wood Release.
Hashirama's power.
On Tsunade.
It was so shocking his brain refused to process it.
He could only stare, stunned, as that single concept hammered through his mind again and again.
Tsunade watched her teacher's loss of composure and sighed—tired, but immovable.
"Sorry, Sensei…"
She leaned forward slightly.
"But if you still refuse…"
Hiruzen, at last steadying his breath, wore a strange smile—bitter and oddly relieved.
His spine straightened. His eyes sharpened.
So she'll take it by force, he thought.
And in this world, power was the most direct language.
Cruel, perhaps.
But true.
He was ready to accept her challenge.
Then Tsunade spoke again, and his expectation shattered.
"Then we'll gamble."
"Gamble?" Hiruzen blinked.
"Incoming, Orochimaru predicted you'd refuse," Tsunade said, a faint curve at her lips. "So he suggested something."
Her voice turned crisp.
"One word."
"Root."
The office froze.
Hiruzen's hand tightened around the pipe until it creaked.
Danzō and his Root unit—the darkest corner of Konoha, the place sunlight never reached.
Tsunade met her teacher's suddenly sharp stare and didn't retreat.
"I'll fight Root alone," she said evenly.
"To prove to you…"
Her words landed clean and hard in the air.
"…that I really do possess the strength to unify the shinobi world."
"If I succeed, you step down and let me take the hat."
"If I fail…"
She didn't soften.
"I still become Fifth Hokage."
"But my path won't be as aggressive as the one I just described."
The meaning was unambiguous.
She wasn't asking permission to become Hokage.
She was only negotiating the terms of how she would rule.
Hiruzen fell silent, gaze deep as an ocean behind smoke.
Thoughts collided, weighed, recalculated.
Tsunade's Wood Release was unbelievable.
But Wood Release didn't automatically mean Hashirama.
Yamato had Wood Release too—and he was nowhere near the First Hokage's godlike level.
How long had Tsunade had it? How strong could she truly be?
His rational mind screamed that her claim was impossible.
And yet…
A shadow crossed his eyes.
Danzō.
An old comrade. An old friend.
Now a thorn buried in Konoha's underworld.
Hiruzen wasn't blind. Root's reach had grown too long, too deep—spying, infiltration, even killings.
He knew.
And every time he wanted to cut it off, comradeship, fear of internal upheaval, and a secret, shameful acceptance of "necessary darkness" made him hesitate.
Tsunade's proposal struck at the precise center of his weakness.
Even if she failed, Root would be wounded.
Danzō's claws would be dulled.
Hiruzen could use Tsunade like a blade to carve at the blackness he himself had never been able to sever.
And if—
If Tsunade truly crushed Root alone…
Root was built from Danzō's elite, trained killers.
Beating them would mean a level of strength that could stare down the entire shinobi world.
Then "unifying the world" would no longer be delusion.
It would be… feasible.
And how she fought Root—what methods, what restraint, what intent—would reveal her true nature.
Was she only raw violence?
Or something deeper?
The calculations raced in Hiruzen's mind.
At last, beneath the smoke, he nodded slowly.
"Fine."
Tsunade's faint smile deepened. She turned sharply, posture straight, back rigid with resolve.
"Then we start now."
"Now?" Hiruzen blurted, caught off-guard.
Too fast.
He hadn't even decided whether to warn Danzō—whether to offer the faintest hint.
Tsunade's speed—no, the ruthlessness of Orochimaru's preparation behind her—left him no room.
Tsunade turned her head slightly, amber eyes holding a knowing, almost amused look.
"Yes," she said, voice absolute. "Right now."
Hiruzen sighed, resigned.
He slammed the pipe into the ashtray as if extinguishing his last hesitation.
"Let's go."
Two figures—gold and white—shot from the Hokage Tower window like arrows, vanishing into the village in a blur of speed.
Even several Root watchers only caught a flicker before their targets disappeared into the skyline, leaving them standing there in shock.
As they moved, Tsunade glanced sideways at Hiruzen, a rare hint of teasing in her tone.
"Not bad, Sensei. Still got it. You can actually keep up."
Hiruzen, robe snapping in the wind, answered dryly.
"Don't mock an old man."
"I'm more surprised you even know where Root's nest is."
Tsunade's voice cut clean through the rushing air.
"That isn't strange."
"Before Orochimaru left the village, he already had… entanglements with Danzō."
"Even after he defected, those connections didn't completely disappear."
"After all these years, if Danzō hasn't moved the base…"
She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't have to.
Hiruzen's face darkened instantly, cold enough to frost over.
If Orochimaru had been colluding with Danzō even before defecting—
If those ties persisted afterward—
All under the Third Hokage's nose—
It was more than a simple intelligence failure.
It was humiliation.
A corrosion of Konoha's foundations.
Anger and betrayal churned in his chest like poison.
Their destination appeared quickly.
A desolate stretch near the edge of the Death Forest. Ancient trees twisted overhead, their shadows tangled.
Beneath them, an unremarkable, almost abandoned-looking underground entrance—shrouded by a translucent barrier so subtle it could be missed by ordinary eyes.
Root's entryway.
A pocket world outside Konoha's main sensory network.
Trespass without permission, and the barrier would respond immediately.
Hiruzen stopped at the perimeter and stepped back, leaning against a thick tree trunk with sleeves tucked, adopting the posture of a man prepared to watch.
His eyes—clouded with age yet sharp with experience—locked onto Tsunade's back as she stood before the barrier, straight as a spear.
He wanted to see it.
He wanted to see how his disciple—newly awakened Wood Release, carrying Orochimaru's information, bearing a terrifying ambition—would strike the black thorn embedded in Konoha's roots.
Root.
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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