OP Character - Ancient Being Predecessor of the Primordial Era

James could hardly breathe. There was no time. No other option. The only choice he had was before him. He couldn't help but curse at his terrible luck. Another day, another time to fuck up and make a terrible decision.

James stared down the obstacles arrayed in front. It was a task he knew his body could ill afford after rushing here. But his life counted on this moment. Years of trekking this path should give him enough familiarity with it, yet he was not confident.

He had no choice but to cross the main street during rush hour! On a green light!

James took off with the speed of a regular dude who hadn't worked out since highschool. Jelly legs and noodle arms pumped like pistons in a racecar. Fueled by the endless power of a similarly endless stream of coffee. He was going to crash soon enough, but for the time being, he was a Titan!

None dared to match his daring pursuit! Women screamed, men lunging to grab his willy frame. But his skinny body only came in handy as he slipped past their urgent grasps. Babies cried!

None could stop him from making it to work on time! Not any of these speeding cars! Not the green light! Not the screaming crowd behind him roaring as though they were in a colosseum. Not even the old granny that caused this whole situation.

James knew with his very soul that granny understood what she had done every morning, delaying him with idle talk and pressing him to meet any one of her twelve granddaughters. She knew he could get fired!

He got skinny, and lunged passed a wheezing car, horns blaring, and drivers screaming obscenities. Another attempted to take his head, but he stopped on a dime worthy of an NFL running back. He gave the road a double move–faked left, then pushed his nonexistent muscles to the extreme forward–and rushed past a terrified motorbike rider. The danger was real and exhilarating.

But his only job demanded his presence!

… or he would get fired for being late a million times. It definitely wasn't because any appliances at the grocery store he worked at seemed to go kaput at him barely touching them. The first few times, they could only wonder what happened, but after the fifth, there had been a sneaking suspicion.

James shook his head, there was no time to think. He must let his primal instincts take over to lead him to the promised land. The other side of the massive twelve lane main road.

Shit!

His momentary lapse of concentration had been costly. A semi barreled towards him. Its raging engine and deafening horn covered the entire horizon. It was a worthy foe, but not worthy enough. With a dive only an olympian would admire, he escaped a guaranteed death…

And fell down a manhole. What the hell?! Why was there a wide open manhole in the middle of a busy street during rush hour? The last thing he remembered was the retch-inducing stink and hard concrete that met his head first dive.

James felt a cold breeze on himself. He shivered and reached for his blanket. It was a recurring issue, he would always forget to close his window. It had led to many days of colds and worse, the flu.

He grabbed a rough rag and pulled it up to cover his head, being too lazy to get up. But that only exposed his feet. That was a crime. Adjusting and readjusting a hundred times, he found that his most beloved blanket–thick and long enough to wrap around him like a cocoon–was not only suddenly short, but also not so beloved to his skin.

Its rough texture grated against his supple modern skin. Not a real moment of hard labor and surviving off instant meals led to his current state of suppleness. He wasn't too proud of it all, but he could only convince himself that women would look on in envy.

Unable to sleep, he hoped the old grandma next door didn't kick his window open and snuck in again. She always looked at his soft fingers and perfect skin with an unmistakable frown of disgust.

'Men are meant to be tough. Who's going to protect my granddaughters if you're so weak!'

The thought of that madwoman had him fuming. He jumped up and rushed out of his…

James froze midstep. He let his leg down and stood comfortably before looking around. He gulped, butterflies running rampant in his stomach. The more he looked at the dilapidated hut around him, the more he felt sweat trickle down his forehead.

Yesterday, he read a blog on kidnappers taking their victims to remote huts in the countryside to cut them up in peace. Broken down huts seemed to be a common theme.

He grabbed the first thing he could find as a weapon. A bowl and a massive spoon, both made of wood. They could have fit in ancient museums, only God would know how a serial killer/kidnapper would get such old things.

With ginger steps, he tiptoed towards the only source of bright light–filtering from the bottom–a door. Each step caused a thunderstorm worthy of creaks and squeaks. If there was a killer behind that door, they would have noticed the day before yesterday.

James Anderson resolved himself to a life and death battle. There was no way he would let some sicko violate his… He shivered. Death before dishonor! Death before dishonor!

With a shaking hand, he nudged the door open. It caused a cacophony as it squealed like a pig. He was so fucked. Out here with a bowl and spoon when his adversary probably had a machete or even a gun.

He took shaking breaths then slowly peaked out. James dropped his impromptu weapons and gaped like an idiot. He scrambled to pick them back up, that beast probably was around here somewhere.

Then again… Where the fuck was he? Last he remembered, didn't he fall down a sewer?

He stepped over the door sill and onto green vibrant grass. As he surveyed, he noticed an unused campfire to his right with a stack of firewood not too far. They were tied into perfect bundles and balanced unusually up vertically.

To his left was a large expanse of grass and a tree just sitting in the middle of it all. It was so lush, he was sure not a single ounce of light could get through. The lack of grass in its usual shadow only further proved his theory.

In front of the house, about thirty paces away, was a small river–so clear he could see the very bottom and even think he could walk across–that peacefully ran along. He could probably leap across if he started with a run from a good distance. The weird thing he found was that it ran until it just disappeared at the edge of what seemed like a plateau.

He did not recall any in the vicinity of the main city. How long was he out for someone to drag him so far away? Did they take a helicopter? James followed the river for a bit until he reached the edge. He peered over the ledge…

What the fuck…?

James looked up and let his eyes slowly fall down till he was looking straight down. It was clear sky all the way through. He could see the bottom of the island, roots hanging out, and then it was just an endless blue sky below.

He could see clouds in the far distance… but shouldn't that mean he was past the first layer of the atmosphere? Looking back up only left him more confused. It was also clear blue skies with distant clouds just floating along.

Vertigo hit him hard. He fell backwards giving a nervous laugh.

Did he just get isekai-ed?