I Own A Sharingan - Chapter 4

The glass of water overflowed and wet Raigo’s hand and he slowly withdrew his palms from the glass of water.

“According to my memory, if the volume of water changes, then the user is an enhancer, haha.”

Enhancement, if a student increases the quantity of water in the glass during their Water Divination, then that student is an Enhancer is the ability to use aura to increase the natural abilities of an object or one’s own body.

Therefore, Enhancers are able to greatly increase their physical attack and defense and are best suited for melee combat.

Proficient Enhancers who also take good care of their body can make it far more durable than tanks and generate the force of a missile with one blow.

Raigo began to feel excitement, for an Otaku what could be more rewarding than a super power? When he entered the world of Naruto, the brutal reality of the world slapped him and he never had the opportunity to possess any supernatural ability, except for the copy function, protection from illusion, and the kinetic vision provided by the Sharingan.

“Fighting Netero, kicking Meruem’s ȧss, does a Chimera-ants have ȧss? Who cares, I’m still going to kick his ȧss, exploring unexplored continents and facing terrifying creatures in intense combats, haha, I love this world.”

Raigo began to imagine all the adventures that awaited him with excitement before calming down.

“I must be aware of my strength before having such high goals, currently my body is not adapted to my taijustu techniques, even if I managed to kill a low level nen user and dozens of mafia guys my strength is still insignificant, I am an extremely weak hunter at the moment.”

He lay down on the bed and put his hand behind his head with a pensive look on his face.

“I don’t know anything about this world, I’ll have to do some research, but let’s leave all these problems until tomorrow.”

He closed his eyes and relaxed, trying to forget all the events of the day, gradually falling into a deep sleep.

. . . . .

The next day he woke up hungry, after taking a good bath, he went out to eat in a restaurant before shopping at the city flea market.

He paid for a large military backpack, a flashlight, ropes, a tent, frying pans, a first aid kit, a lighter, a penknife, and when he ran out of money, he went to the nearest bank to cash the check he had received the day before.

He paid for a few additional items such as clothing and footwear adapted to the wilderness, maps of the region, country and continent, and about ten books on various subjects.

He continued to walk the walk paying for everything he found useful, quickly filling his bag which was beginning to weigh heavily on his back.

He also stopped to pay for a red turban with wind patterns that he attached to his forehead and used to hide his Sharigan, before that, he used to close his eye to avoid being noticed but it became tiring.

He approached the sales area and looked at the eight cars for sale, then his eyes turned to a skinny man with a moustache on his face and a typical con man’s face.

“Hello sir, did one of my fantastic cars attract you? I guarantee you that the merchandise is the best in this whole city…..”

The salesman started bombarding Raigo’ ears with various embellished and misleading phrases about his merchandise that would have made anyone believe that this man was selling luxury cars.

Raigo looked at the dirty cars, which were obviously old model on the verge of breakdown, then he looked at the salesman who described them as if they were Ferraris and couldn’t help but interrupt the salesman.

“Okay I get it, I get it, your merchandise is exceptional how much you want for the Civilian Joop (Jeep CJ HXH version).”

“Sir, here is an exceptional version of Joop, the Willys CJ-3B model at a derisory price…”

When Raigo saw the salesman about to start lying shamelessly again, he took a million out of his backpack and threw it to the salesman who hurriedly picked up the money with a professional smile.

. . . .

So Raigo left the market with a car on the verge of breaking down, so dirty that ċȯċkroaches commit suicide in it, awful handling, uncomfortable chairs with a rather old paint, the only quality of the vehicle was the solid engine that could withstand the harsh conditions.

The hunter license gave many advantages, including the ability to be used as an international driver’s license.

So he didn’t have to worry about getting arrested.

He took National Road 53 eastbound, and then stuck the map of the area on the windshield while driving at an average speed.

“If I drive 130 km on this road, I will leave the Gordeau Desert and reach the Fog Forest, a forbidden place accessible only to hunters, ideal place for intensive training.”

“Let’s go!”

He hit the gas pedal with a smile on his face, accompanied by the scorching desert sun.