Uchiha Kei: Game Dev in the Shinobi World

"A match against an unknown opponent? Intriguing. The unknown... it's part of the thrill of battle."

As a VIP guest, Uchiha Madara made this remark with a gleam in his eye. Around him, the other guests had mixed reactions—some were anxious and curious, some were excited and itching to fight, and others were simply nervous at the thought of matching with someone they knew.

Then the staff informed the players that once inside the game, they would be allowed to create a personal in-game nickname. Only they would know it, so there was no risk of being exposed.

Additionally, in free mode, players could customize their appearance—masks, outfits, the works. The system offered plenty of equipment for disguise, allowing players to protect their identity. No need to worry about encountering a boss or someone they couldn't afford to offend—they wouldn't be forced to lose on purpose.

Upon hearing this, many attendees felt a spark of excitement. Some even secretly hoped to be matched with coworkers they disliked, or with bosses they loathed, just to give them a good virtual beatdown.

A few couldn't help showing sinister smiles—though they quickly restrained themselves. Better not reveal one's ambitions too soon.

To Uchiha Madara, however, this was just another amusing perk.

He was proud, sure—but this wasn't the Fourth Great Ninja War. He couldn't expose his identity just yet. He also wanted to enjoy free mode.

Originally, he had worried about being recognized—his youthful appearance wasn't exactly forgotten by the world. So he'd considered using an alias.

Now, with the system's disguise tools, he could dance freely.

Soon after, the staff set everything up. All VIPs were seated, and the special genjutsu scrolls were distributed.

Under staff coordination, the VIPs entered the game one by one.

The status update was reported to Uchiha Fugaku, the one overseeing the LAN session.

Fugaku nodded, then turned to the oversized sealing scroll before him.

It was top-grade—dozens of times more expensive than normal scrolls. Cost price? Over 300,000 ryō.

Its capacity far exceeded regular scrolls. These were usually reserved for wartime logistics.

But thanks to the efforts of Uchiha Kei, Uzumaki Kushina, and Uzumaki Kikyo, it had now been repurposed as a LAN server.

It wasn't their first time doing this—development had wrapped a week ago, and they'd tested it repeatedly. This was just the first time it was being used publicly.

Though Kei claimed it was stable, Fugaku couldn't help but worry. What if the server failed mid-game for these high-profile guests?

But truthfully, those worries were overblown. The scroll was just a stabilizer—the real power came from Kei's mental network. Even if the scroll failed, all that would happen was players logging out. No brain damage. No consciousness trapped in the game.

After all… not everyone was Kayaba Akihiko.

That said, some shinobi minds still wandered: Could this system be weaponized? Could you trap someone's mind in the genjutsu world?

To that, Uchiha Kei had only one answer: "No. It can't be done. Impossible."

And everyone involved was trained to say the same. Deny, deny, deny. Let them speculate all they want—without evidence, it was all fiction.

Those who knew… understood.

Seeing the scroll-server running stably, Fugaku sighed in relief.

He instructed several squads to guard the scroll, then began patrolling the hall.

His eyes scanned the VIPs—some familiar, some not. His main concern was the unfamiliar ones. Some were surely spies from other villages.

These days, Konoha's dealings with other villages had increased drastically. They could no longer treat outsiders with blanket hostility like a military base.

Too aggressive, and it'd backfire on Konoha.

So now, clans like the Uchiha—those with special eyes—had more responsibilities than ever.

They embraced it. Increased responsibility meant increased trust.

Fugaku was patrolling with two Uchiha, two Hyūga, and two Inuzuka clan members. Their job? Memorize faces.

Suddenly, Fugaku spotted a man who felt oddly familiar despite being a stranger. The man… was Uchiha Madara in disguise.

Fugaku immediately summoned an aide to check the man's file. The response came quickly:

"Retired shinobi Radama from the Land of Fire's daimyō's court."

Fugaku raised an eyebrow. He'd never heard of Radama. But if the man had served the daimyō, maybe they'd crossed paths years ago.

It made sense… maybe. For now, he'd accept it. Further investigation could come later.

Fugaku moved on—there was still much to handle today.

Meanwhile, inside the game, Madara was choosing his nickname.

Using his real name was obviously out of the question, though he was sorely tempted. But he couldn't risk it.

After some thought, he chose:

\[Uchiha's Wraith]

After his final battle with Hashirama Senju, he vanished for decades. Everyone assumed he was dead. He had sealed himself away by choice—so the name felt fitting.

For appearance, he selected the system's "youth restoration" filter, regaining the vigor of his prime.

That dramatic shift—from frailty to strength—was intoxicating. It reminded Madara why he was addicted to genjutsu games in the first place.

"I could endure the darkness… until I saw the light again."

He added a white spiral mask—similar to the one he'd worn while possessing Tobi. A comforting touch. He skipped his signature red Warring States armor in favor of basic black ninja wear. His wild spiked hair stayed.

Anyone who'd known him from back then would still sense it.

But who here had lived that long?

None of the current VIPs were over fifty. Madara had nothing to fear.

With his disguise complete, he entered Free Mode and immediately selected the largest available match: eight-player battle royale.

Not 4v4. Not teams. Everyone-for-themselves.

Most people who played this mode ended up fighting 1 vs. 7 by accident.

Madara? He *chose* to do it.

That was the pride of a true battle-hardened monster.

Unfortunately, few people queued for this mode. At first, there were only four. Then five. Minutes passed.

Madara frowned. These youngsters lacked ambition.

At last, the match filled.

In a flash, Madara found himself on a sunny tropical island.

It was the same map used by Akimichi Torifu during the prelims, just scaled up to match the larger player count. The game's dynamic map system adjusted automatically.

Madara still found it pitifully small. If he and Hashirama fought at full power, the entire island would be rubble.

"Hmph… I've really been nerfed hard, huh."

Clenching his fist, he assessed his body. His stats had been suppressed to elite jōnin level.

In the real world, even in old age, he was beyond Kage level. But this was the game's rule, and he didn't mind. His true strength wasn't in numbers.

Even before awakening the Mangekyō Sharingan, he had been a top-tier shinobi of the Warring States Era.

Now, he was simply 'back to basics.'

Opening his eyes, the three-tomoe Sharingan gleamed beneath his mask, glowing red through its slits.

He turned sharply and dashed backward.

He'd heard movement.

Nearby, a player was still adjusting to their new strength, grinning like a child with a new toy.

They were a civilian-turned-player, ecstatic from the sudden power boost.

Understandably so—feeling like a superhuman was addicting.

Of course, it was harmless. Once out of the game, they'd return to normal.

But some might get hooked.

Kei's response? "Let's believe in future generations.jpg."

Don't ask. It's the Will of Fire. Believe in their wisdom.jpg.

Anyway, this poor guy didn't see Madara coming. Still lost in power-fantasy bliss, he unleashed a system-generated Katon: Gōkakyū no Jutsu (Fire Style: Fireball Jutsu).

The game auto-assigned basic jutsu to civilians. In the future, Kei planned to launch a version with skill trees and full jutsu libraries for all players.

But for now, this would do.

Seeing his fireball connect, the player cheered—only for his joy to curdle into horror.

Madara had appeared in front of him with a Shunshin no Jutsu (Body Flicker Technique).

What followed was pure taijutsu. No ninjutsu, no gimmicks. Just fists.

He pummeled the poor player like his legendary Fourth Shinobi World War debut—only this time, all that devastation was focused on a single target.

He would've one-shot him if the game allowed. But the health bar had to hit zero.

Still, Madara didn't mind. A warm-up sandbag wasn't so bad.

The first elimination was done.

He moved on immediately.

The victim blinked, dazed. "Was… that it?"

Luckily, he didn't have to wait. He could just hit exit and start a new match.

He did. Excited to feel overpowered again.

Back in-game, Madara had already taken down another.

This one was no civilian—it was a jōnin from Kirigakure. A spy sent to Konoha.

But even among jōnin, there's a difference.

Madara was the adult. The other? A child.

With ruthless precision, Madara dominated him like a father scolding a son.

Once the Kirigakure ninja's HP hit zero, Madara clutched his throat with one hand… and turned.

Four more players had arrived, drawn by the sound of battle.

All stood frozen, shaken by the display of power.

Then they heard it.

Madara's voice, cold and commanding:

"Do you wish to dance as well?"