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A readable Naruto fanfic. (Naruto, The Gamer, OC)

Transmigrated into a world full of hidden ninjas, masterful assassins, gargantuan beasts and plenty of megalomaniacs; Cole will have to learn, adapt and grow stronger, or the price will be costly. Knowing all the ins and outs of this world and having a mysterious power at his beck and call, does make things easier. (Contains a believable MC that doesn't get everything right on the first try; power-progression that won't give the MC godlike strength in the first 2 chapters; decent smut; and actual, readable text.)

josuamarques · Anime e quadrinhos
Classificações insuficientes
22 Chs

New Beginnings

There was nothing quite like instantaneous teleportation and Cole couldn't decide if the nausea was worth it.

Of course he couldn't, he had much more pressing matters to attend to, like: 'Why the hell wasn't he at the gym anymore? Where the hell was he, actually? Who are these insane cosplayers that subdued him like an animal and left him eating dirt?'

A lot of imaginative expletives and curses threatened to spill from his lips, cracked and bloody lips, but a jab to his neck by one of the veiled captors let those die right in his throat. Suddenly, speaking was impossible, reduced to impotent wheezes whenever he opened his mouth.

'What the fuck.', is all that Cole thought before he felt manacles snap around his wrist and ankles. Something pricked him all over and whatever heat he had leaked from his limbs and all that remained was a bitter, numbing cold. His muscles tensed like stone and Cole became a prisoner in his own body, nothing more, nothing less. He was lightheaded, unnerved and anxious by the sudden developements and prayed to every God he wouldn't get lynched by these freaks.

Someone grabbed him by his waistband - another one of the disquieting fox-masked people - and hoisted him up without a problem. Cole's eyes bore steadily into the ground beneath him, counting the seconds and minutes as he continued doing his best impression of a limp sack of potatoes. He heard a collective rustling and affirmative grunting before the world... flickered.

One moment grass tickled his nose, the other he hangs freely in the crown of an enormous tree, held by a single hand over a splaying drop. Cole screamed, or tried to - at best it was a muted groan. He imagined that any moment now he would fall, claimed by gravity for a mere instant, reduced to boneless mush in the next. But that didn't happen, and before his panic could really settle in and begin stewing, the world flickered once more. Again he was on the tallest trees ever, dangling helplessly at staggering heights, only for an instant though, because the world flickered for a third time, and again and again and again.

Thoroughly sick after the supernatural journeying, Cole shed a few happy tears when they finally came to a stop. Said stop being a suspiciously dark room, with green-grey floors, ceiling and walls all around. It took a few seconds before his eyes perceived the obvious holding cell in all its glory, at that point he had already been shoved in though, pressed into a spartan stone chair decked in obscure runes and imagery. Metal vices snapped into place and glued him to the chair. So many thoughts were passing through his mind, but he had so little time. The severity of the situation was slowly settling in, alas, he had no way to protest, being effectively gagged by some weird wushu magic.

One of the indistinguishable fox-masks approached him, gloved hands reaching out to his temples. Cole tried to wriggle his head out of the leather and steel harness, however without success. Soon the hands were upon him and only a blank fox-mask covered his vision.

Their touch sent tingles down his spine, tingles borne from the curious sensations. It reminded Cole of someone using a vacuum on the lowest setting, suction-cupping his skin. It was a strange and peculiar feeling, but Cole expected much worse. On the other hand, his interrogator appeared just as unnerved, for a lack of a better word, since Cole couldn't see much in terms of facial expressions. He seemed thoughtful before he palmed Cole's face again.

After the first ... odd touch, Cole expected much the same. To his suprise, he was right, somewhat. Instead of something draining on him, he felt a prickling on his face that desperately tried to dig deeper. But rather than a needle it was a finger poking his cheeks, or a soft sausage thing, anyway, Cole's face gave no quarter to the boring pressure.

His interrogator quickly withdrew from him, arms crossed and looking mightily peeved. They chuffed in displeasure before bearing down on Cole again. A lightning fast jab was all Cole could perceive, and he thought: 'This is it. My final moments. I had a good run.' He did not die.

"Name.", it wasn't inaudible per se, Cole was just so accustomed to the stoic silence of his captors that it took a second, more forceful inquiry before he responded.

Cole looked up at the cross-armed person and felt very small at that moment. Could he speak again?

"Uhm...", gingerly he began. "My name is Cole."

The interrogator deadpanned through his mask and Cole could feel the exasperation radiating.

"Cole Marin.", I completed sheepishly.

"Cole Marin.", the words were rolled and the interrogator was thoughtful once more. "An unusual name, don't you think?"

Now it was Cole's turn to get worked up. He had been transported into a strange forest, man-handled and thereafter kidnapped by strangers and now his interrogator was suspicious at his name. These guys were taking the piss and Cole was reaching a breaking point.

"Unusual, how?!", Cole intoned with more heat than he'd like, but he was fed up by the general mistreatement and cabalistic actions.

"Simple, really. It isn't a name you hear often around here.", the person shrugged, their voice and demeanor remaining androgynous. "Where are you from?", they continued.

And so Cole was questioned. Who was he, where did he come from, what was his current occupation, etcetera, etcetera. Throughout it all Cole reigned in his budding anger. Lashing out at people that could move hundreds of meters in seconds and carry his 190 pound frame with ease was unwise, Cole figured.

All in all it was an uneventful dozen minutes.

Cole's interrogator was silent for a long while, which made Cole break out in a cold sweat. As far as he knew, he had answered truthfully and revealed as much information as was asked of him. Yet, the silence persisted and it didn't bode well.

Something in the air tensed and Cole snapped, quietly. "Are- Are you going to hurt me?", the words exhausted him and left him feeling empty and afraid.

The interrogator started and sighed an almost laugh. Cole's anxiety melted away. "No. No we are not. We apologize for taking up so much of your time, Mr. Marin, but state matters forced our hand. I have been informed that your suspicions were cleared, you are free to go.", Cole was about to open his mouth but he was forestalled by a pointed finger. "Though, we do ask for your discretion in this matter." Nothing quite like an implied threat and Cole was fine to zip his mouth, if it meant that he could leave.

"We will provide housing for the rest of the day and hope you will cooperate one last time.", Cole had a suspicion he knew what would happen - what with the secret prison facility and people that wouldn't want their identity leaked - and closed his eyes. "Thank you very much.", his interrogator said and tapped along his forehead. Cole was nearly unsurprised by his eyelids that wouldn't open anymore.

His restraints were removed and his captor braced him against their shoulder. "Stay still now.", they said but their voice was swallowed by whistling winds.

Suddenly the air wasn't dank anymore, but crisp and filled with voices and noise and before Cole knew it he was left unsupported, the spell on his eyes was broken and he could drink in the sights. And what sights they were.

He saw squarish houses with colourful, tiled rooftops, trees that broke up the row homes and lend an openess and joviality to the streets. People of all kinds walked the cobbled streets, different in hair and skin and demeanor. He noticed billboards and glass suites; timbered, rustic houses and stone-walled yards connected to sprawling manors. Modernity and naturalism clashed at every corner, but it worked. It worked beautifully. And it was all overlooked by a truly breathtaking mountain, with four stern, lifelike faces chiseled into its front.

Cole's smile withered away and a pit formed in his stomach. The sights, the people, his interrogators, they all came together and culminated in a single expression of raw disbelief: "Fuck..."

(Tell me how you liked the first chapter.

Perhaps I'll write in first person POVs in the future.)

Tell me how you liked the first chapter.

Perhaps I'll write in first person POVs in the future.

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