The morning sun had barely stretched its fingers across the sky when Guldrin groggily, yet overall much more energized than he should have been, given the circumstances. He strode in, energy in his every step as he entered into the main dining room, still basking in the afterglow of a magical energy drink that somehow tasted like a cross between citrus and lightning.
How does that work?
Don't ask him, as long as they don't run out….
He will remain happily ignorant.
All he knew was it worked exceptionally well.
His body no longer felt like it had been used as a chew toy for a horde of wild raccoons…
Yes…
Sadly, he does know what that feels like…
Anyways…
Instead, he felt… limber. Refreshed. Energized in a way that made him suspicious. Nothing in life comes this easily.
For now though, he chalked it up to magic bullshit, seemed like a fair assumption to him given the circumstances.
Schnee, of course, stood to the side with her usual composed expression, as if handing him a miracle in a cup was just another day in the life of an excellent maid. Which, to her, it probably was.
Breakfast had already been laid out with almost military precision. The long wooden table groaned under the sheer volume of food. Eggs, scrambled, fried, and even poached, were stacked high on platters. Sausages sizzled merrily in their own little dish, arranged in careful spirals. Bacon, glorious, crispy, golden-brown bacon, was piled so high it resembled a tiny tower. And the pancakes. Dear gods, the pancakes. Fluffy, warm, butter-soaked stacks of love, dripping with syrup so thick it moved like lava. Topping it all off was a cast-iron skillet of sawmill gravy that looked like it should have been blessed by a Southern grandmother.
Ino looked at her plate with a curious, almost baffled expression. "This… this is breakfast?" she asked, awkwardly poking the bacon cautiously with a 'fork' as if expecting it to react in some way.
Not only had she never used or seen a fork, but this meal was unlike anything she had seen in the past, let alone experienced.
Tsunade, surprisingly, had no such reservations; she and Shizune had arrived earlier than the rest and had already begun eating. Most likely, they had already experienced their culture shock and had now adapted.
She had already scarfed down a full plate, patted her stomach, and declared loudly, "If this is what they call breakfast in your world, I'm moving there permanently, or at the very least, make this commonplace for us in this world."
Shizune, ever the polite one, simply nodded and muttered something about how the sausage was oddly nostalgic despite being completely foreign.
Schnee had taken their tastes into account. Having learned hundreds of culinary styles, she'd somehow managed to balance the robust, protein-heavy comfort of American diner food with enough finesse to make even the more discerning palates of ninja medics happy. There was even a side of lightly seasoned rice and miso soup for Shiro.
Padding into the room, Shiro eyed Guldrin, and then at the seat next to him, which had been occupied by Ino. Shrugging, she walked toward Guldrin and plopped down right in his lap as if it were the most natural outcome. Of course, the miso soup didn't go unnoticed, but Shiro, being Shiro, had no intention of commenting on how nostalgic it felt after so long.
Guldrin, only slightly surprised but unperturbed, sat at the head of the table, watching them all dig in, and for a brief moment, everything felt peaceful. Like they weren't being hunted by a shadowy organization or planning a journey through wild, monster-infested forests. Just a group of people enjoying a hearty meal before the day turned to chaos, or was it always chaos?
But of course, peaceful events never last.
Once everyone was full and sitting back with varying degrees of food comas, Guldrin clapped his hands once to regain attention. "Alright. Operation 'Pack Up and Ship Out' begins now."
There were a few groans, Tsunade burped quietly and rubbed her temples, but they all slowly began moving again.
"As we discussed last night," Guldrin began, standing and stretching with a slight pop of his spine, "we'll be leaving the shop behind... or, more specifically, I'll be storing it." He held up a simple yet ornate necklace. A glimmer of swirling energy pulsed from the pendant that hung in the center, and the entire room seemed to thrum gently in response.
He gestured to the structure around them, the walls, counters, shelves, and even the ambient lighting all seemed to respond, their faint glow growing brighter. "This necklace stores the entire building. Once we activate it, the shop shrinks and gets absorbed like it's being saved into a mystical flash drive."
Tsunade blinked. "Your shop turns into jewelry."
"Technically, yes," Guldrin replied. "Convenient, isn't it?"
"That's horrifyingly efficient," Shizune added.
"You can't have mine," he smirked, before tossing a small pouch onto the table. Inside were nearly one hundred gleaming silver pendants etched with runes. "These are for anyone you help or think we can trust. If someone's in need, down on their luck, struggling, or if we help them… Give them one. It'll sync them to the system I've got running, well, that is a bit of a stretch, but they will allow me to hear their wishes and prayers along with some other niche situations. If you need the technical explanation, ask Schnee. I've got no clue what I'm doing when it comes to explaining runic engineering. The act? I can handle it, but explaining how it works? Nah, not yet at least."
"Just like Shin… Both geniuses, but both have their own quirks…" Schnee murmured dryly, her voice almost drowned out by the sound of Tsunade attempting to down another gulp of orange juice.
"I heard that! I have had less than a day to learn this stuff…" Guldrin called over his shoulder, already walking to the front of the shop. "Alright, start gathering your stuff. I'm initiating shop compacting in ten minutes."
Meanwhile, a little later, Shiro had exited the shop and stood with a map rolled open on the makeshift table they had used before Guldrin received the shop, jabbing a finger at it as the others leaned over to look.
Where did she get a map?
Well, let's just say Schnee's drunken adventure allowed her to procure many helpful items, which she, in her inebriated state, doesn't recall the origin of.
"According to this," she began, her voice sharp and clear, "we're heading north through this forest here." She tapped a thick green splotch that stretched ominously across a good chunk of the parchment. "About a six-hour walk to reach the forest's edge. Once we're out, we can use the truck to finish the trip, maybe another three hours if the roads aren't blocked."
Ino frowned. "What if the roads are busy?"
"Then we walk longer, our vehicle is something we would rather not just expose to everyone around… So walking would be the go-to option, even if it would take three to four times the effort." Shiro said matter-of-factly, already scribbling calculations in the margins. "The goal is to reach the northern coastline and find a boat. From there, we head to the ruins of Uzushiogakure."
Tsunade straightened at that, her previously relaxed expression sharpening into something more focused. "Uzu, I thought that was the alcohol talking last night? That's dangerous territory. It's been abandoned for decades. What are we hoping to find there?"
"Clues. Supplies. Possibly secrets that didn't get destroyed," Guldrin answered, rejoining them with the now necklace-sized shop in the form of a crescent moon hanging around his neck like a badge of office. "The place might be a dead, hidden village now, but not everything dies completely. Or at the very least, they'll go down with a scream of defiance which leaves long-lasting echoes. Plus, as I said last night, we will be using the place as a base, we will fix the village and use it as ours…"
"There's more to it," Shiro added quietly, "but for now, that's all we need to say."
Ino crossed her arms. "And you expect we'll find a boat just sitting there waiting for us?" She paused, 'That was rude, why did I do that? Emotions, my emotions are going to be hard to get used to… Focus… Okay boats… The Land of Hot Springs is a significant port. Connecting The Land Of Lighting to Hot Water country, there should be boats everywhere… Just, who will want to sail through the whirlpools to reach Uzu…'
Snapping her out of her thoughts, "We'll figure it out," Guldrin said with a shrug. "Worst case, we bribe someone. Or commandeer one. We're resourceful if we need to be."
"We're also being hunted according to your stories and the members of Root we ran into last night." Shizune reminded him.
"Details," he waved her off, grinning like someone who hadn't recently been tortured by a shadowy secret faction of the ninja government.
Which, by the way, he NEVER wanted to experience again. Though, to be honest, he was handling it much better than he should, as was Shiro, but neither of them noticed.
"Anyway, before we leave, I'll be setting a perimeter seal, Schnee. If you could help me design a similar compact version of the warding sigils I made before, it would be a great help. I had used sealing as a basis, but after reading those how-to guides in the forge, I understand I am far from proficient."
"I can certainly assist in this."
Shiro leaned in, her grin matching Guldrin's, "And I'm leaving behind a little farewell present for any unwelcome guests."
Tsunade looked wary. "What kind of present?"
"A poison trap," she said cheerfully, holding up a small glass vial of ominous green liquid. "Goes off in two days or when triggered. Enough to paralyze an elephant, kill anyone who is unlucky enough to inhale it, and confuse a bear."
Shizune raised a brow. "Why confuse a bear?"
"Because it's funny," Shiro replied, deadpan. "I didn't make it, look, it says it on the label, look here," She held the poison bottle up and displayed clearly on the label it says 'for confusing bears' listed as one of the uses.
The group finished their last-minute checks, strapping on gear, checking their weapons, and adjusting armor. Schnee did one final sweep of the area, her eyes briefly glowing with magical energy to scan for any residual traps or scrying attempts. Nothing. They were clean. At least for now.
With everything ready, Guldrin nodded once, adjusted the strap on his pack, and looked toward the forest.
"Alright. Into the woods."
-
–
—
Meanwhile, deep within the enigmatic folds of the system space, where rules bent like light through warped glass and reality twisted in a way that could drive a mortal insane, a struggle far greater than any Guldrin faced in the waking world raged with unchecked fury.
While he and the others brave the treacherous terrain of the forest outside, mud squelching beneath boots, insects buzzing in oppressive heat, and shadows stretching long with secrets, two beings were locked in a desperate and chaotic ballet of metaphysical tinkering, reality maintenance, and system-level panic.
Emily and Alisa had, for years, played gods behind the curtain. They pulled levers, patched cracks in the code, and pushed buttons even though they didn't fully understand, all in the name of keeping Guldrin alive and somewhat functional. But today was the day their patchwork would no longer cut it.
The system space, once a place of ordered, if abstract, logic, like an interdimensional filing cabinet constructed by a deranged quantum librarian, was now chaos incarnate.
Black ichor, thick as oil and pulsing like something alive, dripped through the air itself, defying gravity and physics alike. It oozed from unseen rifts and clung to everything with a wet, suffocating weight.
Opposing it, or perhaps merely existing in defiant harmony, were bursts of golden light so pure and radiant they seemed holy, though they hissed like acid when they touched the abyssal tendrils. It was a battle without winners, a cosmic tug-of-war that had no referee and no end, fought within a system that shouldn't be able to conceptually exist.
Emily hovered midair, her form shimmering between code and concept, eyes darting over lines of floating script and metaphysical error messages that blinked in warning hues. With a frustrated sigh, she raked her fingers through her long, pixelated blonde hair. "Alisa, we've been doing this manually for years. Literally years! Every second, we're here patching up his bloodlines like we're taping together a nuclear reactor with duct tape. And the more he uses them, the more it spirals. They're out of sync. We can't keep micromanaging this forever. Even now, the control is slipping from my fingers. It's like trying to steer a starship without the proper configurations."
Alisa, or at least a consciousness-fragment of her, darted around the space like a particularly distressed data fairy. Her movements were a blur of light and intent, a flicker of ancient intelligence overlaid with the exasperation of a career babysitter who had finally realized her ward was part doomsday device.
Before her floated a metaphorical construct, a file cabinet, or at least something pretending to be one. It was filled not with paper, but with shifting code strings, reality tags, and soul attributes indexed under the bizarre logic of the system's pseudo-sentient software.
With a frown, she began rapidly rearranging the files. Alphabetical order. Chronological. Elemental affinity. Bloodline purity. Moral alignment. She tried every organizational method she could think of, and yet the effects remained unchanged. It was like reshuffling a deck of cursed tarot cards and hoping the outcome wouldn't be doom this time. "I know, Emily. I know. But if we don't do something, he's going to die. I… I can't let that happen. There has to be a way to make them stop tearing him apart from the inside out."
"Exactly! And maybe next time you won't just go awakening someone's hidden bloodlines during an emotional crisis! I was managing him fine! Slowly, carefully, like you're supposed to with unstable, universe-threatening hybrid bloodlines. But nooo, you just had to go full Perfect Maid Protocol and shove all the switches to 'ON' because 'your last master's will' told you to craft Guldrin into some kind of divine champion!"
Alisa whirled around, exasperated. "How was I supposed to know he wasn't just a descendant of royalty or some esoteric powerhouse?! I mean, sure, a few anomalies, some weird resistances, fine. But this? This is eldritch! He's not even some reincarnated prodigy; he's possibly the first, like, as in the original, capital-F First. If those sealed memories are even halfway accurate, we're dealing with something that precedes linear time! Do you know what that means?"
Emily snorted, gesturing toward a distant sector of the system space where a singularity pulsed ominously. "Yeah, it means this! That nightmare right there. That black, red, and purple ball of metaphysical 'nope' in the sky. Just sitting there, lurking. Waiting. You know what it does? Neither do I! It just exists, and when you stare at it too long, your vision starts showing you things that haven't happened yet, or won't happen, maybe could happen."
Of course, Emily wasn't being fully honest when she said she didn't know anything. She knew, it was just best not to share that information… Not like it would help anyway.
"And that's another thing!" Alisa threw her hands in the air, which, since she was currently half-etheric, the action caused sparkles of frustrated binary code to ripple around her.
"Why is everything about him locked? I tried accessing his soul archive the other day, just a peek, just to understand, and I found chains. Not metaphorical ones, actual chains, stretching back through time and possibility. One hundred and forty-five of them. I counted! And they weren't made by any known magic or system command. They're ancient, alien, and very wrong. Just touching one nearly erased me. Not killed, erased! From existence. Retroactively!"
Emily's tone softened slightly, though the stress hadn't left her eyes. "Yeah. Those chains? Beyond your clearance level. Even beyond mine, if I'm being honest. But your assumption might not be wrong. If he really is a reiteration of the First, that explains a lot. Why he's sealed. Why this system even exists? Why I'm even here. I can't explain it, not fully, not yet… but you're not wrong. What you triggered? Wasn't supposed to happen. At least, not yet."
Silence passed between thick with the weight of cosmic screw-ups and forgotten secrets. Then Alisa, almost timidly, floated closer. "Okay… so micromanaging is out. We're both exhausted, and it's not sustainable. But what if we stopped fighting the symptoms and changed the rules? This system, we don't even know who built it,"
Emily flinched slightly and thought, 'Well, I do know, but MOTHER would be livid if I told you that… Or, maybe she wouldn't… I never know when it comes to her plans…'
Unaware of Emily's thoughts, Alisa continued, "It connects to forces that I don't have words for. What if we added a new function? Something that rewards progression instead of forcing it?"
Emily blinked. "Go on."
"A bloodline path. Right now, his body is rejecting the bloodlines because they're just… dropped on him. Like a dozen volatile ingredients poured into a fractured boiling cauldron. But if we created a framework, a progression system, where he earns each part based on alignment, then it becomes manageable. Every action that fits with a bloodline gives him points toward synchronizing with it. As his synchronization increases, so does his stability. No more tearing at the seams."
Emily paused, considering. Her eyes flickered with rapidly scrolling system code as she ran simulations in parallel thought threads. "…We could display synchronization percentages. Maybe tie passive boosts to milestones. Let him track it, make decisions. Align himself through his choices, rather than raw power. It'll turn his mess of bloodlines into something more like a talent tree."
"Yes! Exactly! And we cap or partially seal his current three awakened ones. No more progression unless he earns it. That way, his body isn't burning itself out trying to digest power it hasn't earned the metaphysical enzymes for."
Emily grinned, the first real smile she'd managed in days. "I like it. And I could take it even further. Like in video games, when a major decision is about to be made, time slows, and the player chooses. But instead of a morality meter, it's a bloodline alignment selector. He picks the path in the moment, and it feeds into his progression."
"And we keep everything else intact, just adding this one new layer," Alisa said quickly, watching with awe as Emily's hands began weaving the air like a composer conducting a symphony of divine code.
The system space shimmered, folding and unfolding in fractal patterns. Menus flickered into existence, panels opened in response to thought, and cascading updates poured down like rain made of glowing glyphs.
Even after years of working beside Emily, Alisa never stopped being stunned by her. She was an enigma wrapped in a contradiction, part maternal guardian, part software daemon, part cosmic misfire. And she was powerful. Terrifyingly powerful. The kind of power you didn't question, because if you understood it fully, your mind might not come back the same.
She wasn't part of the system. She was it, or at least, it felt that way. She didn't serve it. She didn't even control it, not exactly.
It moved with her, around her, as though Emily and the system were just two aspects of the same unknowable whole. And her bond with Guldrin? That was the strangest part of all.
Wherever he went, she followed. Not metaphorically, literally. Through life, through death, through rebirth, Emily had always been there, attached to him like a parasitic guardian angel. She'd once said, "Where Guldrin goes, I go," and that was all the explanation she ever gave. Not who she was. Not what she was. Just that.
Even Alisa's meddling and not-so-secretive snooping had given her basically nothing to go on.
Was she a remnant of his past life? A piece of that "First" identity sealed inside him? Or was she something else entirely, an observer, a companion, a failsafe? Alisa didn't know. And she wasn't sure she wanted to. Some questions, she felt in her bones, were better left unasked.
Emily was working faster now, a blur of movement and cascading light. "Alright. Bloodline path system initialized. Synced values will update in real time. Lockout thresholds established. Key milestones set. Choice-points enabled. I'll test it through the next sequence. If all goes well, we'll finally have a way to guide him instead of shoving him forward."
Alisa, exhausted but hopeful, nodded. "Let's just hope he doesn't do something insane before the system update takes effect."
Emily didn't look up. "He might. But at least now? It'll mean something."
And somewhere, far away, oblivious to the monumental changes unfolding in the very fabric of his soul, Guldrin stepped over a log and muttered about how weird the forest smelled today. Blissful ignorance at its finest.
-
–
—
Guldrin moved with a grace and caution born from experience, his boots barely whispering against the mossy ground, each step deliberate and light. The forest stretched around them like a living cathedral, massive trees arching overhead to form a canopy that filtered the sunlight into speckled gold and deep green. The air was thick with the earthy scent of damp foliage, mingled with the distant chirp of birds and the occasional rustle of something unseen. It was a place that demanded respect. Mother Nature is like that.
In his hand, the engraved matte-black frame of a silenced Mk. 23 nestled securely against his palm. His finger floated just above the trigger, the barrel always pointed low but ready to rise in an instant. The suppressor added a subtle length to the weapon, making it slightly more unwieldy in close quarters, but the tradeoff in stealth was worth it. He'd always preferred reliability and stopping power over flash. The Mk. 23 wasn't glamorous, but it worked. And more importantly, it was his.
Still, as they moved forward through thick underbrush and low-hanging branches, Guldrin's mind kept drifting to a more pressing concern, ammunition. Right now, he was fine. He'd come into this world with a good stock, the magazine was full, and he had a couple of spare mags tucked into his inventory, plus quite a few boxes of spare bullets. But depending on how long they remained in this strange and frankly inconsistent dimension, bullets could easily become a rare and irreplaceable commodity.
"Eventually," he muttered to himself, not loud enough for most of the group to hear, "I'll need to learn how to recreate these. Can't depend on magic tricks and system buffs forever. Not when the stakes are real."
That was when Tsunade, who'd been eyeing his weapon with a mixture of skepticism and fascination for the past hour, finally couldn't take the silence any longer. Her tone was curious, but it carried the weight of command, like she was used to being given answers and didn't often tolerate mystery. "So… that thing you're holding. I can tell it's a weapon, your whole body shifts the moment it's in your hand. You move differently. More alert. But… what does it actually do? I've never seen a weapon like it. It's not chakra-based, it's not metal with seals, and it's not bladed. What gives you the confidence to walk through this dangerous forest?"
Shizune, marching just beside her, nodded thoughtfully. She was less forward, but clearly just as curious. Her eyes flicked to the gun, then back to Guldrin's face, scanning for any hint of its secrets.
Ino, up ahead, didn't comment, but her ears were definitely perked. She moved with purpose, scanning their surroundings like a hawk on high alert, her ninja instincts refusing to let her drop her guard even for a second. They were, after all, still in a hostile nation. Nothing about this place screamed safe.
Guldrin wasn't surprised by the question. He'd been expecting it, actually. He didn't exactly blend in, walking around with what looked like a strange, black metal contraption that none of the others had even a frame of reference for. In a world where chakra and hand signs shaped mountains and summoned monsters, a firearm was practically an alien artifact.
Before he could answer, though, Shiro, who had been walking just behind him with an impish grin, couldn't help herself. She leaned forward and chimed in with a grin that was equal parts playful and proud. "Yes, Hubby-San," she said, emphasizing the title with a teasing glint in her eye. "Please do enlighten these poor, chakra-dependent folk on the wonders of modern scientific innovation. You know, the revolutionary marvel of engineering that goes bang and solves problems at high velocity?"
Guldrin sighed. Loudly.
He didn't stop scanning the woods. His eyes moved constantly, never resting, never trusting. The forest may have seemed peaceful, but he knew better. Still, he let the silence stretch just long enough to tease Shiro before finally answering.
"It's called a handgun," he said calmly. "Specifically, this one, it is a Mk. 23. I won't bore you with the make, and who the inventor was. It's a sidearm, compact, reliable, semi-automatic. Chambered in .45 ACP."
He glanced over his shoulder to see three blank stares. Shiro, of course, understood all of it. She'd helped him clean it once and had tried (and failed) to magically mod it to incorporate magical elements. Apparently, wind magic isn't something the barrel can handle well…
The rest of them? Ino, Shizune, and Tsunade, not so much. They had no idea what most of what he just said meant.
Of course, Schnee had been listening, but beyond a little interest, she didn't seem to care. Her job was to ensure her master's successor didn't die, and she was doing that with spades.
"Let me break that down," he continued. "It's a small firearm designed to be held and operated with one hand. Semi-automatic means that every time I pull the trigger, it fires one bullet, ejects the spent casing, and loads the next one automatically. No reloading after every shot, no channeling chakra. Just point and squeeze."
Tsunade frowned. "You mean… it doesn't use chakra at all?"
"Nope. Zero chakra. No hand seals, no spiritual energy. Just physics. Kinetic energy, pressure, and combustion. Modern science at its finest."
He held the weapon up slightly, non-threateningly, just enough for them to get a better look. "Inside," He points to the mag, "There's a magazine, basically a small box spring-loaded with bullets. Each one contains a metal casing, a small primer on the base, a powder charge inside, and the projectile at the tip. When I pull the trigger, a hammer hits the primer, which ignites the powder, causing a controlled explosion. That explosion launches the bullet down the barrel at around 260 meters per second."
"Explosion," Shizune echoed. "Inside that tiny thing?" She was skeptical, and for good reason.
Guldrin nodded. "Tiny, but focused. That's the key. It's a miniature chemical reaction. The bullet gets expelled forward, and the pressure forces the slide to eject the spent casing and chamber the next round. One smooth cycle. Pull the trigger, repeat. With practice, I can put ten shots into a target the size of your head at fifty meters in under six seconds."
'That is an extreme underestimate, but they don't need to know that yet… Do I trust them? No. Not yet, but I want to… Ino is the only one from this world that I know I and Shiro can trust. The rest, I just hope they will prove themselves to be allies, true allies.'
Ino finally glanced back. "Sounds efficient. Like that long weapon you used to hunt with, but smaller…"
"It is. Brutally so. It's not flashy, but it works. And against enemies that aren't expecting it, especially ones that rely on hand seals or close-range combat, it's a huge advantage. Especially with this," he tapped the silencer attached to the barrel. "Suppressor. It doesn't make it completely silent, but it reduces the noise enough that you won't give away your position with every shot."
Tsunade squinted. "So… you just carry around little explosions in your pocket?"
Guldrin allowed himself a half-smile. "Basically. Controlled explosions. Precision tools. The culmination of centuries of science and warfare boiled down into something I can draw in less than a second."
Shiro clapped lightly. "And he does love his toys. Oh, you should see him when he gets into gunsmithing mode. Cleaning, tuning, calibrating. It's like watching a child with a puzzle box, if the puzzle box could punch through armor."
Guldrin rolled his eyes. "It's a matter of survival, not a hobby."
"Oh sure," Shiro said, smirking. "Tell that to the four hours you spent adjusting your scope because it was 'half a millimeter off.'"
"Precision matters," he said without missing a beat. "A millimeter at the barrel is meters off target at range."
The conversation drifted into a lull after that, but the atmosphere had lightened. Even Tsunade, who had begun the question with skepticism, seemed visibly impressed. Shizune took mental notes like she was absorbing everything he said, and Ino now gave the weapon occasional glances of interest instead of suspicion.
Schnee had lost interest and was instead picking random flora as they walked, completely nonplussed over the handgun.
Still, Guldrin remained ever-vigilant. While explaining, he had marked three possible ambush points, two escape routes, and at least four unusual signs in the trees that didn't match normal wildlife. His finger never touched the trigger, but it was never far either. That was the thing about carrying a firearm, especially in a world that had never even imagined such weapons. It was as much a deterrence as a utility.
But more than that, he found a strange sort of comfort in it. The Mk. 23 was a connection to home, whatever 'home' meant in his interdimensional, fragmented existence. It was a comforting reassurance that human ingenuity could keep pace with ancient chakra techniques and mystical bloodlines.
'And someday,' Guldrin mused as he stared down at the cold, matte-black frame of his Mk. 23, 'I'm going to run out of bullets.' The thought wasn't a sudden burst of panic but, rather, a calm, clinical realization that hung in the back of his mind. Right now, he had enough ammunition to handle most engagements and then some. But time and entropy respected no man, no weapon, and certainly no traveler stranded between worlds.
He adjusted his grip slightly as they walked, his index finger resting just outside the trigger guard with the practiced precision of someone who'd lived long enough to learn that hesitation gets you killed, but carelessness gets you killed faster.
His thumb traced the ridges of the pistol grip absentmindedly as his thoughts unfolded. 'Brass, powder, primer, lead…' he recited mentally, like a mantra, the fundamental ingredients of ammunition etched into his mind with repetition.
'The casing can be brass or steel,' he reasoned, 'maybe even copper if I'm desperate. Powder will be tricky, no modern chemical factories in sight, and I doubt anyone here stocks smokeless powder in bulk. But black powder? That's doable. Sulfur, charcoal, potassium nitrate, I could probably jury-rig a stable mix. Not ideal, but serviceable. The primer though…'
That was the real challenge. The delicate chemical compound is necessary to ignite the powder, yet compact and sensitive enough to explode on impact, while remaining stable enough to survive transport. That would take finesse. Precision engineering.
Then there was the Equipment. The tools. A reloading bench. He imagined building it all from scratch. The Moon Sanctum held the forge perfectly capable of doing the job, but the rest… A manually operated press from salvaged scrap, molds for casting bullets by hand. 'Start small,' he told himself.
'Experiment. Fail. Learn. Adapt. Repeat.' It was the way of the survivor, the way of the self-made warrior in a world that didn't care how out of place he was. The way of a man who had stared into the abyss of the unknown and said,
"Yeah, I can make this work."
Because even in this chakra-infused hellscape where men shot fire from their mouths, women summoned slug gods, and kids leapt through trees like caffeinated squirrels, a well-placed bullet, one tiny piece of metal propelled by burning powder and good old human engineering, could still change everything. Human biology still rang true, a hole in the body, a missing organ, and they would still bleed.
His thoughts were interrupted by a voice, curious, amused, and just the tiniest bit challenging.
"So…" Tsunade drawled, her eyes narrowing slightly as she looked at the Mk. 23 like it was some kind of mythical artifact. "You said it fires fast, right? Think you could hit a moving target?"
Guldrin didn't answer. Not with words, at least.
Instead, without so much as a pause in his stride, he casually raised the pistol. His movements were smooth, almost lazy in appearance, but they carried the quiet efficiency of a man who had practiced this motion a thousand times.
The group barely registered the muted thump of the first shot before a crow overhead erupted in a mist of feathers. A second thump, and its partner joined it, both falling in slow spirals through the air.
Guldrin lowered the weapon like he'd just swatted a fly.
"In my sleep, probably," he said, the corner of his mouth twitching into the barest hint of a smirk.
Tsunade blinked. Shizune's jaw dropped slightly. Ino actually cursed under her breath, and even Schnee, always the unflappable maid, arched a single silver eyebrow.
Only Shiro seemed completely unfazed. In fact, she looked proud. Beaming, even.
"That's my Hubby-San," she whispered with a grin, hands clasped together like she was watching a romantic scene in a movie.
The group stood there for a moment, letting the silence stretch just long enough for awe to settle in. The forest absorbed the noise of the shots almost completely. Aside from the gently fluttering black feathers descending like morbid confetti, there was no sign that anything had happened at all.
And then, without ceremony, they kept walking.
There was something oddly serene about the way the forest opened up ahead of them. It had been a long trek, twisting paths, low-hanging vines, uneven terrain that tried to twist ankles and swallow boots, or sandals as it were for the ninjas, but finally, the trees began to thin, the underbrush grew sparser, and light flooded in from a clearer sky above.
The smell of loam and moss gave way to fresher air. The chirps and rustles of wildlife faded into the distance, replaced by a quiet, open stillness that suggested civilization, or at least, the absence of feral monstrosities.
Which, by the way, they were thankful they hadn't run into on their trek.
As they reached the edge of the forest, a ridge dipped into a shallow decline, revealing a dusty but still recognizable road below. It stretched in both directions, old and weary, but empty. Completely and beautifully empty.
"No movement," Ino confirmed, her eyes sweeping over the landscape with calculated professionalism. "Looks like no one has used this path recently. No tracks, no scents, no chakra flares. We're clear."
Tsunade folded her arms, glancing at the open path skeptically. "I still don't like it. Too convenient. Either Danzo doesn't know his Root are dead, or there is an ambush ahead."
Schnee stepped forward with her usual calm poise, her hands folded neatly in front of her. "Convenience, when coupled with preparedness, is merely opportunity dressed well."
"…What she said," Shiro added, throwing up a thumbs-up while trying to imitate Schnee's serene demeanor. She failed halfway and resumed her stoic expression.
Guldrin stepped up beside them, already reaching into his inventory. His fingers danced across the invisible interface of the system, which only he and Shiro could see. To the rest of them, it just looked like he was grabbing at air.
Then, with a soft, mystical hum, space warped briefly, and from that shimmering distortion emerged something wholly unexpected by the natives of this world.
A truck.
It wasn't anything fancy. Just a reliable, rustic pickup truck, complete with a grill guard, ram bars on the front, and off-road tires, that still looked surprisingly clean. But in this chakra-bound, kunai-slinging world, the sight of a literal steel machine appearing from thin air might as well have been a spaceship crash-landing.
Shizune actually jumped.
"Wh-What is that?!"
"Looks like a wagon of some kind… Where are the oxen?" Tsunade muttered.
Ino smirked; she felt it was nice seeing someone react as she did the first time. At least now, she knows it wasn't she who was weird.
Shiro just laughed. "Oh no, no oxen required. This beauty runs on a combustion engine. Think of it as a metal beast created by science. It roars, it drinks refined fuel, and it carries us faster than your fastest jutsu sprint without breaking a sweat."
Guldrin moved to the driver's side, casually tossing his Mk. 23 into the dashboard compartment with a thunk. He reached into his vest, pulled out a key fob, inserted it, and turned the key. The truck's engine roaring to life with a smooth, guttural purr that made Shizune flinch again and Tsunade's eyes widen.
"That noise, much like a beast, sounds alive."
"In a way," Guldrin replied, climbing in. "It's just pistons, cylinders, fuel, and explosions. Like the gun, only contained in a box with wheels."
"Why does everything you carry involve explosions?" Tsunade asked, one eye narrowed.
He smirked. "Because explosions get results. Control, precision, and intentional method in the chaos, and it isn't an issue."
He shifted into gear, and the truck began to roll forward, kicking up dust and bits of debris as it moved across the road. The suspension rocked gently, built to handle far worse terrain than this.
Coming to a stop, Guldrin motioned for them to get in.
Slightly hesitant, the group loaded in, some slower, some eager. Ino chose the bed of the truck to keep watch. Tsunade insisted on sitting up front to "supervise." Shiro, of course, claimed her spot beside Guldrin with all the confidence of a queen taking her throne. And Shizune, along with Schnee, sat in the rear,
As they sped off down the road, leaving the forest behind, there was a strange moment of peace.
No immediate threats. No looming catastrophe. Just the wind in their hair, the hum of the engine, and the distant, almost surreal feeling of progress.
"I have to admit," Tsunade said after a long pause, watching the trees blur past. "Your world's technology has some serious perks."
Guldrin nodded. "It has its downsides, too. But when it works, it works."
They drove on, unaware that somewhere behind them, two sets of eyes, unnatural, slitted, and gleaming with unspoken malice, watched from the shadows of the trees.
-
–
—
In the stillness of the forest's edge, where shadows pooled like spilled ink and light dared not linger, two figures watched the receding dust trail with predatory stillness. Their presence was subtle but no less terrifying, like the brush of a blade against skin before the cut is even noticed.
A forked tongue flicked out briefly.
And two sets of slitted eyes, glistening with malice and unreadable intellect, narrowed.
Behind them, the forest breathed. Wind stirred leaves that had not rustled in years. The branches above creaked, heavy with tension. Animals long since silenced by fear remained hidden, sensing something ancient and hungry in their midst.
Kabuto Yakushi adjusted his glasses, his expression one of uneasy skepticism carefully painted over a canvas of deep concern. The gleam of the vehicle's taillights had long since disappeared into the morning horizon, but Kabuto's thoughts remained fixated on the man wielding the strange hand-held weapon that expelled death without chakra, without seals, just with the pull of a finger.
"Lord Orochimaru," Kabuto began, his voice hushed despite their isolation, "should we really let them go like this? I thought you said only Lady Tsunade had any chance of restoring your hands. If that's true, then-"
"Ah- Kekeke…" Orochimaru cut him off with a hiss, lifting his head like a viper about to strike. His golden eyes flickered toward Kabuto, narrowing. "Tell me, Kabuto… in all your years, in all your time spent slithering through the Root program, watching the world from beneath its floorboards like a rat pretending to be a shadow, or a snake as it were… have you ever seen anything like what that man produced today?"
Kabuto frowned, unsure of where this was going. "The weapon? The shiny wagon that moves on its own? Their clothing?"
"All of it," Orochimaru hissed, his voice rising with an unmistakable edge of manic excitement. "The hand-held weapon. The beast of metal they ride as if it were a summoned creature made of gears and thunder. Their clothing, stitched from synthetic fibers no weaver in this world could dream of. Their speech patterns, their posture, even the ease with which they accepted Tsunade's presence, as though she were not one of the three most dangerous people in the shinobi world... Tell me, Kabuto, where did they come from?"
Kabuto shook his head slowly. "Nowhere I've heard of. No reports. Not even whispers through the underground networks. Their gear, their tools, everything screams 'alien.' Not necessarily from another world, but something we have never seen."
"Exactly," Orochimaru purred, his serpentine voice curling through the trees like smoke. "And what does that tell you?"
"That… we're ill-informed," Kabuto admitted, his brow creasing as the realization settled in.
Orochimaru's eyes gleamed. "Yes. And going in ill-informed leads to what?"
"Death. Mistakes. Capture. Failure"
"Very good," Orochimaru said mockingly, clapping his hands together, though only in his mind, as his physical hands, ruined and stiff from Sarutobi's curse, remained limp and unresponsive at his sides. The pain of that failure burned anew in his chest, like a scar that hadn't healed. His lips curled into a scowl. "I have no interest in dying a second death, Kabuto. Not when I've come so close. Not when the secrets hiding within that group could very well be the key to surpassing even the Sages of the world."
Kabuto opened his mouth to respond, but Orochimaru wasn't finished.
"Did you see the woman with the white hair?" Orochimaru's voice dropped to a whisper, barely more than a hiss. "The one who smiled when the man shot those crows from the sky like a god swatting flies?"
Kabuto hesitated. "She didn't strike me as… out of the ordinary. Strong, perhaps. Clever?"
"You didn't feel it?" Orochimaru rasped. "That crawling sense at the base of your spine? That instinctive scream in your blood telling you she is not something you want looking at you? Kabuto, I am ashamed of you. Have you learned nothing? Did living in the peaceful Konoha dull your senses?"
"I didn't consider it that way."
"No," Orochimaru growled. "You didn't consider it at all. It makes me want to kill you here and now, but unfortunately, you are still… useful. Barely. And finding a replacement would be such a tedious waste of my time."
Orochimaru's face twisted into a grimace, one born as much from his current impotence as it was from disdain. His condition, the cursed, deteriorating hands left useless by the very man he once called teacher, (who he was granting a non-disgraceful death), was a constant reminder of his limitations. A prison wrapped in flesh and bone, and the only key, Tsunade, was now in the company of strangers from who-knows-where, moving swiftly beyond his reach.
He wanted to scream. To shed this decaying husk and be reborn anew in a world that finally made sense.
But for now, he had to be patient.
"Kabuto," he said coldly, "summon a serpent. We will follow, as closely and silently as we can. If we're fortunate, we may learn something. If not…" Orochimaru's grin returned, wicked and wide. "Then we'll improvise."
Kabuto nodded and pressed his palm to the ground, summoning a long, coiled serpent from Ryuchi Cave with a hiss of displaced air. The creature emerged, writhing and twisting, its green-scaled body gleaming under the filtered sunlight. It looked at Kabuto, then at Orochimaru, recognizing its lead summoner instantly despite the damage to his body.
Kabuto helped Orochimaru onto the serpent's back, the older ninja grimacing with barely restrained disgust at his own helplessness. Every time Kabuto's hands touched his shoulders to support him, he wanted to break every bone in the boy's fingers. But he remained still, knowing this momentary humiliation was the price of survival.
"I assume you did as I instructed?" Orochimaru asked through clenched teeth.
Kabuto gave a curt nod. "Of course. All travelers along the road have either been redirected or… permanently removed. As were the animals, which could have posed a threat."
Orochimaru chuckled, though the sound was more reptilian than human. "Excellent. Then we'll have the road to ourselves. And them."
With a flick of Kabuto's wrist, the serpent began to move parallel to Guldrin's group's path, slithering low through the trees with unnatural grace, keeping to the underbrush, a silent predator beneath the canopy. It moved without disturbing so much as a single leaf, a ghost in scales. And upon its back, Orochimaru sat hunched, barely cradling the emblem in his decaying hand, one of the strange, unfamiliar insignias the man had distributed to his companions, a token of something, an all-seeing eye, perhaps. Or something more.
With the greatest of efforts, he turned it over slowly in his palm, its texture alien, the metal impossibly smooth. Not iron. Not steel. Something different, something made from a different method than he had ever seen before.
He grinned.
"What are you hiding, stranger?" Orochimaru whispered to the token. "What hole did you crawl from, and what wonders will bleed from you when I cut deep enough?"
The serpent slithered forward, the forest swallowing their passage whole.
And miles ahead, the rumble of the truck continued, blissfully unaware that a ghost from a broken era was now slinking quietly behind them, hungry for knowledge, for power, and for blood.
—
–
-
Meanwhile, miles down the vacant road, the pickup truck carved its way through the morning countryside. The engine rumbled with a confidence that seemed to grow with every mile, as though the truck itself had become aware of the surreal world it now occupied and had chosen to roll with it. But while the machine pressed forward on a path free of obstacles, Guldrin's mind was anything but calm.
Thoughts had been nagging at him ever since they'd left the edge of the forest, the silence.
Not some natural quiet moment or the absence of noise you'd expect in open country. No, this was unnatural silence. No birds were singing in the trees they passed, no rustling of animals in the underbrush, not even the distant chirp of insects.
The world around them felt hollow, like a painted backdrop, beautiful but fake, eerily still in a way that made the skin crawl if you thought about it too long.
And Guldrin had been thinking about it. A lot.
His hands were firm on the wheel, but every now and then, his eyes flicked up to the rearview mirror or darted off toward the parallel treeline, constantly scanning. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Maybe it was paranoia, but it was also an instinct, a sense honed through life-or-death experiences, sharpened by encounters with things that defied logic and tested sanity.
Still, life, or rather, the system, had no plans to let him dwell in mystery for long.
A chime rang in his ears, electronic and unmistakably artificial. "Ding. Initiating forced system update. Please stand by…"
Guldrin blinked. 'Wait, what? The system speaks after not giving me a quest? A requirement to leave this world?'
But it wasn't a question the system was designed to answer. Its tone was cheerful, clinical, and completely detached from the chaos it often brought into his life.
"Detected unused sign-in…"
That made his eyebrow twitch. 'Sign-in… what the hell? I plan to save them, don't use them.'
"Forced sign-in activated…"
"Ding! Congratulations on signing in at 'Pick-Up-Truck'! You have received: three 'Little Trees' air fresheners."
Before he could even snort, three small, bright yellow packages appeared in his lap with a soft plop. He glanced down, still driving, and there they were, cheesy little pine-tree-shaped air fresheners, the kind you'd expect to find in a run-down cabbie's dashboard circa 1997. The scent was labeled "Lemon Sunburst."
"Wow," Guldrin muttered, picking one up between two fingers. "That's… unlucky. Is that really my sign-in reward?"
He chuckled to himself and tore one open, pulling out the freshener and hanging it on the rearview mirror. It swayed lightly with the truck's motion, giving off a sharp citrus scent that made Shiro wrinkle her nose in amusement.
"What is that thing?" she asked, leaning closer. "Smells weird. Kinda like those air fresheners Dom used to hang around the shop when he didn't want to clean properly."
"Quite accurate… Achievement unlocked," Guldrin replied with dry sarcasm. "Modern civilization: air fresheners. Revolutionary, I know."
She giggled slightly, but her eyes lingered on him. Something was wrong.
He was staring forward too intently.
Sure enough, the system window was still floating in his vision, ticking forward like a progress bar of doom.
"10%... 25%... 80%... 99%..."
"Ding. Please brace for reconfiguration."
"Wait, reconfigura- AGHHHH!"
Pain lanced through him like a lightning bolt woven from acid thread and needles. It wasn't the kind of pain that made you scream. It was worse, the kind that made you grind your teeth and curse existence while your vision darkened at the edges.
Shiro's eyes widened instantly. "Guldrin!"
"I'm okay!" he grunted through clenched teeth. "Just- son of a- just give me a second."
"You're clearly not okay!" she said, half-rising from her seat, ready to grab the wheel if he passed out. Her grip hovered an inch from the dash.
"I've had worse," he hissed, even as sweat broke out across his brow. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, and for a moment, it looked like he might just pass out.
But then… it passed. Slowly. The pain ebbed, not fading so much as integrating. It wasn't leaving him. It was becoming him.
His breathing slowed. His grip loosened. And he blinked, eyes clearer than before.
"That was… something," he muttered, then added, "I feel weird. Not bad, just… different."
Shiro leaned in again, her golden eyes flickering with worry. "Different how?"
"I don't know. Like… something's changing. I can feel it inside me. Like I'm shedding a skin I didn't know I had. Losing something. But at the same time…"
He paused, lifting a hand, staring at it.
"I feel more in control. Like there was something tangled inside me that just… unraveled."
And then, he heard it.
Her voice.
'Good… at least you can feel the changes now.'
Guldrin's heart skipped a beat. His lips parted in silent shock. 'Emily?' he whispered.
'Yes,' the voice replied, smooth and warm like sunshine. 'I'm here. I never left, my love. Alisa's here too, though she's preoccupied… but she sends her love. You've made things incredibly hard for us, by the way.'
Guldrin swallowed. He hadn't heard from them in a sense where he could respond since before they entered this world. It had been three-plus years at least…
'You almost blew yourself up. Repeatedly. Honestly, I lost count after the ninth time,' Emily added, her tone equal parts exasperated and affectionate.
'Blew myself up?' he echoed, confused.
'Yes, because you've had multiple bloodlines warring inside you since the beginning, or should I say since Alisa decided to throw caution to the wind and awaken them... Devil, Angel, Dragon, Origin, and Soul. All jammed into one body without so much as a compatibility test. You were a walking, breathing time bomb. If not for us reinforcing your spiritual framework, and playing Jenga with your insides; you would've exploded. Literally.'
Guldrin winced. 'Thanks, I guess?'
'You're welcome, you lovable idiot,' Emily sighed. 'Now, here's the good news: the system update just forced a reconciliation between them. You've basically been patched, like a broken game with too many mods and no load order.'
'That explains the pain,' Guldrin thought dryly.
'Right. So, think of it like a skill tree, but instead of "level up to unlock fireball," it's more like "commit actions that align with your bloodlines to evolve them."'
She continued explaining, her voice now slipping into that pseudo-tutorial tone she always took when lecturing. 'Punish a sinner? You gain synchronization with your Angel bloodline. Kill innocents or revel in chaos? Devil sync. You've already lost your dragon bloodline- well, technically, your Origin bloodline devoured it. It absorbed the traits, so nothing's wasted. Soul, however, remains dormant. It must awaken naturally.'
'So I've got three active ones now… Angel, Devil, and Origin. And no reset button.'
'Bingo, and if you mess up, or leave them too imbalanced… Boom.' Emily confirmed.
Then, the system chimed again, louder this time, and a new interface blossomed before him like an overlay in a high-end VR sim.
"Ding. Update complete."
His eyes widened at that. "Jesus," he muttered. "That's… a whole lot to take in."
Shiro blinked. "What was that?"
"System update, let me see what changed… Status."
"Ding, displaying status…"
Level: 6]
[Class: The Gamer 10%]
[HP: 100%]
[MP: 100%]
[Attributes:]
[Strength: 14] (Average Human: 5)
[Endurance: 16] (Average Human: 5)
[Dexterity: 18] (Average Human: 5)
[Agility: 14] (Average Human: 5)
[Intelligence: 16] (Average Human: 5)
[Charisma: 8] (+20%) → 9.6] (Average Human: 5)
[Luck: ???] (Average Human: 1)
[Magic: 6] (Average Human: 0)
[Unassigned Attribute Points: 10]
[Skill: Redacted]
'Why are you showing Shiro's Status? Show mine. Emily, is this your doing?'
'No… And yes? We updated the system, and it needs to reconfigure your speech patterns, in other words, it needs to learn.'
"Ding, Displaying host's status."
[Level: 6]
[Class: Innovator 10%]
[Attributes:]
[Strength: 16] (Average Human: 5)
[Endurance: 18] (Average Human: 5)
[Dexterity: 14] (Average Human: 5)
[Agility: 16] (Average Human: 5)
[Intelligence: 16 (+25%) → 20] (Average Human: 5)
[Charisma: 10] (Average Human: 5)
[Luck: ???] (Average Human: 1)
[Magic: 8] (Average Human: 0)
[Unassigned Attribute Points: 15]
'Oh, damn, that is a huge change since the last time I looked…
"Displaying skills,"
[Cooking: 6%]
[Innovation: 10%]
[Fishing: 2%]
[(New) Blacksmithing: 2%]
[(New) Rune crafting: 2%]
'Okay, I can work with this. Show me my bloodline tree.'
"Bloodline Tree activating… Standby."
Guldrin braced for more pain, but instead, a massive wall of code scrolled down across his vision, lines of glowing data stitching themselves together, forming complex trees, skill trees, or perhaps more accurately, bloodline trees. Elegant, branching paths stretched in every direction, but none had labeled skills. Only blank nodes and numerical requirements.
[Bloodline Tree:]
[Origin: 2] (Next unlock at 200)
[Angel: 5] (Next unlock at 20)
[Devil: 6] (Next unlock at 20)
20 bloodline points for Tier 1 Devil or Angel tier-up. That was the easy part.
But Origin?
It demanded 200.
'Damn, and I guess I don't get to know what each tier gives?'
'No, no, you do not… Rules and all that, but trust me, they are worth each unlock. I suggest you hurry and unlock the devil and angel quickly… By the way, the link you made with Ino is due to one of the rewards you would have unlocked in the future, so don't do that too many times… While you haven't unlocked it, you have used it, so you have access to it… However, it will put an immense strain on your body.'
'Okay, so no more followers for a while, I can do that.'
"I hope so, anyway, go comfort the little dragon; she looks like she is about to have a nervous breakdown at any moment. We will speak soon, my love."
With that, her voice vanished, and Guldrin focused on Shiro before sharing his status screen with her, "I am okay, but quite a few things have changed; take a look for yourself."
(Author Note: Hey readers, sorry I haven't posted in forever… Life has been Hell, and I haven't had time to work on it. Questions: Will I have a constant schedule? No. As of right now, I have no idea how frequently I can post. Will I drop this FF? No, I have no plans to drop it. Did I die? No, just life complications, (Not going into it). I thank everyone for their patience and understanding. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Leave power stones if you want, comment, and leave reviews, they motivate me. Stay safe.)