Ten draws.
Nothing.
Twenty draws.
Still nothing.
Thirty draws.
Not a single hit.
Forty draws.
Absolutely nothing.
Logan's eyes twitched with frustration. His patience was running thin.
"What kind of garbage system is this?" he muttered. "Not even a pity mechanic?"
He had expected a ten-draw guarantee for at least a 4-star Stand, maybe even a hard pity at eighty draws for a 5-star. But apparently, this world didn't believe in fairness.
After forty pulls, all Logan received were a few Stand Experience Books—minor upgrades that he poured into Star Platinum, barely nudging its level from 2 (7%) to 2 (13%).
It was a drop in the ocean.
Grinding his teeth, Logan decided to go for fifty draws in total. He sacrificed another 100 soul fragments and confirmed the draw.
Ten stars descended from the sky.
This time, there was a distinct ding-ding—a soft chime that finally signaled a hit.
Logan quickly counted. One, two, three, four—four stars.
"…It'll do," he sighed, forcing himself to stay calm.
A 4-star Stand wasn't necessarily a game-changer, but it could still be incredibly useful. Typically, 4-star Stands lacked overwhelming power but offered unique support abilities—like a sub-tank, secondary DPS, or utility slot in game terms. They could sometimes become more critical than brute strength alone, depending on the situation.
If it had mid- to long-range combat capabilities, it could fill Logan's most pressing weakness.
The glowing starlight faded, and a book hovered in the air before him.
> "Ripple Breathing Technique"
Logan blinked in surprise.
He hadn't had time to read the entire JoJo's Bizarre Adventure series after crossing into this world, but he still remembered the Ripple from the "Phantom Blood" arc.
After examining the detailed description, Logan gained a general understanding of what this technique entailed.
Ripple, or Hamon, was a breathing technique originally created by Tibetan monks. It used special patterns of breathing to generate energy waves—like ripples across water—through the user's body.
With proper training, this technique could enhance physical strength, generate internal heat, improve vitality, slow aging, and provide significant spiritual and physical resistance.
In simpler terms—it was like getting a free basic cultivation technique.
For Logan, this was far more valuable than even a 5-star Stand.
Stands were powerful, yes—but the user's base strength always remained a weakness. If his original body was frail, it wouldn't matter how many Stands he summoned. He could still be poisoned, worn down by exhaustion, or overwhelmed if the Stand was disabled or bypassed.
A strong body and a thick health bar gave room for mistakes. They gave him survival.
A perfect example of the opposite?
Uchiha Itachi.
A genius with unmatched jutsu and fully developed Sharingan—but physically frail and terminally ill. Despite his immense power, he remained vulnerable.
That's why the Ripple Breathing Technique was so valuable.
It wasn't flashy. It wasn't a giant spirit avatar with fists of fury.
But it was survival.
Still… Logan raised a brow. "Why is a skill book even in the Stand draw pool?"
He flipped through the system's explanation:
> "The standard draw pool includes 4–5 star Stands, upgrade materials, and special items."
Ripple Breathing counted as a special item.
Others in this category included Stone Masks, Bow and Arrow, Firearms, Aja Stones, and similar relics.
So in that light, getting Ripple Breathing after fifty draws was absolutely worth it.
Even if it was technically "just" a four-star, it offered Logan a long-term advantage greater than some six-star Stands.
With fifteen draws left, Logan decided to stop.
His gut told him that his luck had already peaked with Ripple. Continuing would only burn through soul fragments for minimal return.
He closed the system interface and took a long, satisfied breath.
---
Over the following weeks, Logan and Sasuke traveled across the countryside.
They walked at their own pace, taking breaks when needed. When thirsty, they drank from rivers. When hungry, they hunted wild game and foraged for edible herbs. At night, they camped under the open sky, using leaves as bedding and stars as their ceiling.
In just over half a month, they had reached the edge of the Fire Country's jurisdiction.
Along the way, they hunted numerous beasts for food and collected their pelts. In one small town, they sold off the animal furs and used the earnings to splurge on a hot spring inn—finally enjoying a warm bath and a proper meal.
They hadn't felt so relaxed in weeks.
From there, they joined a merchant caravan headed toward the Land of Water.
Staying in the Land of Fire was no longer safe. Danzo's ANBU likely had orders to search for them.
The Land of Lightning was ruled with an iron grip—outsiders would be exposed instantly.
The Land of Earth was simply too far.
The Land of Wind was mostly desert—inhospitable and hard to survive in.
But the Land of Water?
Its government, depending on who you asked, was either in a state of relaxed control—or complete chaos.
That chaos worked to Logan's advantage.
Under Kirigakure's Blood Mist Policy, the country was plagued by internal strife. Missing-nin, rogue ninja, and civil unrest were everywhere.
To Logan, that meant abundant bounty targets—perfect for farming soul fragments and leveling up his power.
In his eyes, no nation was more suited for growth than the Water Country.
As they traveled, Logan made sure to gather intel from every stop—learning more about the political state of the five great nations and the major ninja villages.
When he heard Konoha being praised as "the most stable and orderly," he truly understood how messed up the world was.
He needed strength. Not just to protect himself—but to protect the principles he stood for.
---
Ten days later, the caravan arrived at its final destination: the Land of Waves.
From there, Logan would have to continue alone.
"Brother Logan," the caravan captain, an older merchant with a sun-weathered face, approached and handed him a sealed letter. "After this point, we part ways. The Land of Water has closed most ports lately. But this letter will get you aboard an official ship."
Logan nodded, accepting the recommendation.
"Thanks. For everything."
As the captain turned and walked away, Sasuke murmured, "He's a good man."
Logan smiled, remembering the wad of cash he'd slipped into the captain's bag the night before. He said nothing.
---
They arrived at the port and handed the letter to the Wave Country's port official.
The man was a grizzled samurai with a topknot, loose kimono, and straw sandals that exposed his unwashed toes. He wore two blades at his side—a katana and a wakizashi.
After giving Logan and Sasuke a once-over, the samurai jerked his chin toward a docked cargo ship. "You're lucky. It's leaving soon. Miss it, and you'll be stuck for two weeks."
Logan and Sasuke followed him onto the ship.
But as they boarded, Logan couldn't shake the feeling of being watched.
Several crew members stared at them strangely—half-smiling, half… hungry?
Was it just his imagination?
Their expressions carried a strange tension—welcoming, sure, but tinged with something darker. Desire?
Logan frowned. What's wrong with these guys?
The bald samurai led them below deck and unsealed a warehouse door. A sour stench of mold and rot hit their nostrils immediately.
Inside, about a dozen people—men and women—sat slumped in the dark, shielding their eyes from the sudden light.
Logan instantly understood.
"…Stowaways?"
He had assumed, given the official recommendation, that he'd be getting a legitimate cabin or deck space.
But apparently not.
A nearby sailor shoved him toward the hold. "You going or not? If not, get lost."
Logan gave him a disarming smile. "Of course we're going."
He grabbed Sasuke's sleeve before the boy could unsheathe his blade.
The crewman slammed the cargo door shut, locking them in. A weak bulb flickered to life above them, and a small fan circulated air to keep them from suffocating.
Sasuke scowled and whispered, "Why didn't you let me beat him up? You could've floored him with one punch."
"I'm not a monster," Logan replied, settling down on a crate. "I don't just yell, 'You're courting death!' and go around slicing people because they looked at me funny."
He reached into his backpack and pulled out an orange, handing it to Sasuke.
"As long as this boat gets us to the Water Country safely, I don't care what it smells like."
Sasuke huffed. "Then when do we get to beat people up?"
"Whenever they cross a line."
Sasuke rolled his eyes but took the orange. Just then, he noticed a pair of wide eyes staring at him.
It was a little girl across the hold—about his age—with pink hair tied into a side bun. She looked at the orange like it was the most precious thing in the world.
Her name was Xiaotao.
Sasuke glanced at her, then at the orange. He turned his head away with a small grunt.
Bonk!
Logan lightly flicked Sasuke on the head.
"Be nice. Don't always act so cold."
Sasuke wouldn't have listened to anyone else.
But Logan's words carried weight.
Reluctantly, he walked over and split the orange in half.
"Here."
He thrust the orange toward Xiaotao, not even looking at her.
Her eyes sparkled with joy. After getting her mother's nod, she took it gratefully.
"Thank you, big brother!"
Then, without warning, she leaned forward and kissed Sasuke on the cheek.
Sasuke's face turned beet red.
Laughter echoed around the cargo hold.
For a moment, in that cramped, stinking, and dimly lit warehouse—the tension broke.
The ship swayed gently.
And with that, it set sail.
pàtreøn (Gk31)