Chapter 3: The First Crossover

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3 Seconds After the Crossover

⏳ 🏜️ ~~💨

Welcome to the damn desert. Where no shade, no mercy. Just sun, sand, and silence.

High in the sky, the sun burned white-hot, cooking the sand below and anything unlucky enough to be on it. 50 °C was just the norm here.

The sand below stretched out like an endless ocean of heat. Stay out here too long and you might see a lanky skeleton in cowboy boots, strolling up with a jangle of spurs. Don't worry, he's your cartoon buddy. Or maybe do worry… because that's usually the moment right before you die.

And even if you were dead, the heat would still cling to your body, wrapping your corpse as if it meant to fuse with your bones.

The wind showed no mercy either, rising without warning and hurling walls of sand that swallowed the horizon whole.

If you somehow managed to survive all that, well... breathing was another kind of torture because the air was simply dry, hot, and dusty, like dragging hot powdered glass into your lungs.

...

In the middle of all that, beneath a half-collapsed makeshift tent, two young men lay tied up and motionless.

"…Why?"

One of them had short black hair and sharp blue eyes, currently regretting every decision in his life.

"Dude, maybe you're cursed."

The other stood out more — with very long silver hair and golden eyes that almost seemed to shine. But somehow, he looked ridiculously relaxed. Like he was chilling at home, not tied up under a half-collapsed tent.

They were... the Admin bros.

"Fuck you, Nahil," Amon huffed. "I had a perfectly wonderful life before you showed up and turned it into hell. You're the cursed one."

Nahil sneered. "Just excuses... Life keeps screwing you for a reason. And I can see why."

This time, Amon stayed silent. He actually found himself thinking about the reason.

Even now... though they were both captives, their outfits told a different story.

Amon's clothes were plain. Unremarkable. While Nahil looked like he had just stepped out of some high noble castle.

Was there a hidden meaning or something?

But what made Amon feel a little better was the System's message, the one that was revealed before either of them had opened their eyes in this world.

It had already granted them three Admin privileges:

One, they'd be assigned identities in this world — with a chance for the admins to receive high-status positions to make the mission easier. Each admin only got the basics of their identity: no detailed info, no background, and no clue what kind of world they were going to.

Two, they were allowed to customize their body before the crossover: hair color, eye color, age, height, and so on. For some reason, Nahil decided to use it… just to give himself long hair.

Three, Language Adapter, meaning they could fluently speak and understand the main local language of any world without any problems. It would even be registered as their primary language in their mind.

...

"Oi, oi, oi!"

"Shut the fuck up, you two!" one of the sand bandits shouted. He was the unlucky one stuck watching over the two.

"Usually we don't keep people alive," he sneered, leaning closer. "But this time, the boss made it clear to keep you breathing. Said you are worth more... alive."

"Especially you, silver-hair. You better hope your rich daddy comes looking for you. Otherwise… well, I've got other ways to use that body of yours."

Amon and Nahil blinked, still completely lost. They had literally just crossed over—and not even three seconds later, they were already tied up in a bandit camp.

All around them were rough, ugly tents made from patched animal skins and scraps of old cloth.

Filthy? Yes. Functional? Unfortunately, also yes.

"Ahem. Mr. Good Bandit," Amon said with a careful smile, "I think you can use his body—as long as he's still alive afterwards, right?"

Nahil was stunned, looking at Amon like he was staring at the devil himself.

"That… does sound feasible." The sand bandit's eyes lit up, now openly sizing Nahil up with unsettling interest.

Feeling that weird gaze crawling over him, Nahil stiffened. Hell no—he was not going down like that. 

"Well, can we all agree that Amon is the better-looking one? I mean, look at this smooth dark hair, those blue gem-like eyes, and that skin—hisss, man. If I were you, why pick me when I can have him?" Nahil glanced at Amon with a look of regret, like, 'Why does a perfect-looking man like this even exist?'

"Ho ho… you've got a point." The bandit's lips curled into an evil smirk.

Amon was speechless. He was just joking—well, maybe not really—but there was no reason for things to start going this way.

Then he smirked, an idea forming.

"Sigh… Nahil, you have such an evil heart. You know I have a serious illness that'll kill me in a few weeks, yet you want that gentle, kind-hearted bandit to catch it and die? Damn, I never thought you could scheme like that." Amon sighed, eyes wide in mock shock, as if truly impressed by such wickedness.

"What?! You evil brat!" The bandit turned to glare at Nahil.

"…"

Nahil felt aggrieved. 'Why does the topic always switch to me?'

Well… he could only say what every protagonist in the novels he had read would say right now.

"Hmph. Thirty years east, thirty years west. Don't despise the young and poor!"

"You are making a huge mistake here. You're courting death," Nahil said, lifting his chin and staring at the bandit with an arrogant look that stunned both the bandit and Amon.

The bandit blinked. 'What the hell is wrong with this guy? Is his brain damaged? It won't be fun like this.'

Meanwhile, Amon slowly turned his head toward Nahil, deadpan. "Just how many Chinese novels have you read?"

Nahil paused, then said casually, "Hmm… a lot. I mean, aside from your bad novel, that's basically how I spent my second life on Earth. And honestly, not my fault, Chinese webnovels dominate the field."

Amon sighed deeply. "We're so fucked…"

He looked like a dying man. Not because Nahil read Chinese webnovels. No, that wasn't it. It was because the guy clearly read MTL versions. You could tell by the way he spoke. And… wasn't he supposed to have some kind of super AI from his life reward?

So connecting the dots...

Yup. Amon was now 100% sure: He was absolutely, utterly screwed... having someone like that on the admin team. Success wasn't even one of the options.

『Nahil: Amon, what's the plan to escape, man?』

Nahil used the admin chat interface to send a message. He was considering blasting the bandit with a sun ray from his eye but thankfully, he wasn't that much of an idiot. They were still in the middle of the enemy camp after all.

And luckily, the bandit was just threatening earlier; he knew that if he damaged the goods, his boss would kill him for real.

『Amon: Nothing.』

『Nahil: Huh?』

『Nahil: No wait. That's really a good plan, yeah. I like it.』

『Amon: ...fuck you.』

Amon shook his head. He knew he couldn't count on Nahil.

He began thinking about how to escape. 'I can create a smoke grenade depending on the situation. The idiot next to me can probably shoot a laser and kill the one watching us… Though he'll be useless afterward. But if I time it right, maybe we can escape safely.'

Twenty minutes later, Amon had a basic plan.

He opened the admin chat again and pinged Nahil, who looked half-asleep with his eyes closed.

『Amon: Oi, get up, IDIOT.』

"Uhh…" Nahil opened one eye as the notification rang in his head. "I really need to disable that thing when I sleep."

Then he looked over at Amon. "Dude, you—"

Shnk!

Out of nowhere, a kunai ripped through the bandit's throat. He crumpled to the ground, dead before he even knew what hit him, blood spraying like a fountain.

Not only him, all around the camp, chaos broke.

Screams, flashes of steel, and blood. Bandits were being slaughtered before they even knew what was happening. Shadows darted between tents like ghosts. Every single attacker moved too fast to track.

Seconds later, it was quiet again. Only dead bodies, blood, and torn tents remained.

One of the masked figures approached them and knelt in front of Nahil.

"Apologies, my lord. We were late."

He wore a metal forehead protector engraved with a strange but familiar symbol—one that looked like ⧖ 

Nahil nodded cheerfully. "Just free us already… and for the record, you're the one who confessed you're late, okay?"

The Suna ninja was left speechless. He'd used that line plenty of times before, but this was the first time anyone gave such a reply. With a sigh, he shook his head. Forget it, his team leader could deal with this. He'd just pretend he hadn't heard a damn thing.

Amon, still frozen from the bloody scene, felt his stomach lurch. Then his eyes caught on the ⧖ headband. 'So… this is the Narutoverse,' he muttered, nodding toward the Suna ninja."

His outfit totally matched the traditional uniform of a Sunagakure-nin: a wrapped turban, the village's engraved headband, a flak jacket, and a cloth that covered the lower half of his face—leaving only his eyes visible.

『Nahil: Dude, you're amazing! You woke me up because you sensed the ninja were coming, right? Incredible! And here I was, about to fall asleep just waiting for them!』

『Amon: ...wait. You knew they were coming?』

『Nahil: Of course, duh.』

Amon stared blankly for a second. He then figured it must've been the identity info the System gave them. 

He hadn't even asked about Nahil's identity since arriving — he'd been too focused on surviving.

All the system had told him was: [Amon, the only survivor of an ordinary merchant family.]

...

『Nahil: It says I'm the only son of the Daimyo. 😎』

『Amon: Damn you! Why didn't you say it earlier?』

『Nahil: Bro, our identities are shown in the system… didn't you check? It literally says you're the only survivor of an ordinary merchant family.』

『Amon: … 』

Amon opened his system panel in silence.

Sure enough, Nahil's profile was right there at the top. With one click, it showed his current identity — [The only son of the current daimyo + Congrats, your father will die soon]. It was so obvious.

Amon felt a wave of shame creep over him. 

Luckily, before his awkwardness got worse, one of the Suna shinobi nearby spoke in a calm, cold tone.

"Nahil-sama, Lord Daimyō has issued a direct order to escort you safely to the capital. We will protect you from this point onward."

Nahil narrowed his eyes, arrogance still gleaming in his gaze.

"Hmph. So the old man finally remembered he has a son—even after all the suffering I've endured these years? And can you even protect me?"

『Amon: ??? All these years? Didn't the system just drop us in with fake identities and zero memories?』

『Nahil: Yeah. But c'mon, I had to make the scene feel natural man. That line is a classic—I've read it in like, 100 different novels. Trust me.』

"...We can."

A new voice cut in. A Suna ninja stepped forward from behind the group. He looked young, but carried a composed, almost commanding presence.

He was calm on the outside, but internally, he was cursing both Nahil and Amon—the same runaway brats who had fled the capital, chasing some childish dream of adventure.

And now that fool Nahil was going to be the next Wind Daimyō? Just great. The village was about to suffer under yet another useless ruler.

Amon blinked. The new ninja looked oddly familiar—reddish-brown hair, dark eyes, and a stern, disciplined expression.

'Wait... this guy definitely appeared in the anime,' Amon thought. 'He even had a big role later on, didn't he?'

The boy replied plainly, "My name is Rasa. I've come here under the orders of the Third Kazekage—my sensei. He also sent eight elite Anbu to ensure Nahil-sama's safety. And of course, yours too, Amon-sama."

"Hmph! Like we f—" Nahil still wore his usual arrogant look, but before he could finish, Amon grabbed his arm and pulled him aside.

"Please excuse us, Rasa-san. We need to talk… privately."

"We do?" Nahil blinked, confused.

Amon just dragged him under a nearby tent for what looked like a friendly chat. 

...

"Ahem!"

"Nahil, you need to start taking things seriously, man. Your father is sick, and there's a real chance you'll be the next Wind Daimyō," Amon said in a calm, friendly tone.

"I know that so—" Nahil nodded, about to add his ideas, when the Admin Chat suddenly popped up in his head:

『Amon: Listen here, you fuckin moron. I don't know what the hell is wrong with you, but behave.』

Back in the tent, Amon sighed, his expression heavy. "You're going to have a ton of responsibilities—politics, power struggles, and I even heard war might be coming."

『Amon: What the hell is going on inside that useless brain of yours? I've never met anyone dumber than you… damn my luck. If Rasa is this young, then the Second Shinobi World War should be right around the corner. Get it? Either way, shut your filthy mouth.』

"But don't worry," Amon continued, placing a hand on Nahil's shoulder, "I'll be there to help however I can—as your friend."

『Amon: Friend my ass. Once we're back at the capital, I'll handle things. Just don't try to play smart, idiot.』

"So, Nahil, you need to start thinking long-term. If we want to make the Land of Wind powerful and wealthy, we have to understand how vital ninjas are to this land. Sunagakure is its backbone, its main military force. And the Third Kazekage? The guy is a legend. Strongest in history. Honestly, I admire him."

『Amon: We'll need the Kazekage's strength. Show respect to him and his village. From what we've seen in the anime, he would never be anyone's pawn, but he genuinely cares for his people.』

"Good thing we already have that plan we made, right? Once we solve the water shortage, we can make the Land of Wind richer than the Land of Fire." Amon stood up, radiating with energy, his eyes gleaming with determination. "We're gonna do this. We'll change the fate of the Land of Wind."

『Amon: I've already got a plan in motion—for this country at least. We're going to reshape its future. Still hitting the 50% the System wants is going to be tough.』

"Let's just start by solving the water crisis—just like we planned."

『Amon: And remember—don't say anything sensitive out loud. No Admin talk. There could be listeners. Use the Chat for that stuff, got it?』

"You get what I'm trying to say, right?"

『Amon: What, are my words too hard to squeeze into your worthless head? Why aren't you nodding yet?』

Nahil glanced at Amon's warm, bright smile… then back at the savage messages in the Admin Chat. For a moment, he seriously wondered if the system had been hacked.

---

Not far from the tent, Rasa had heard everything Amon said. Not the Admin Chat part, of course—but the speech about the Third Kazekage, reshaping the Land of Wind, and more importantly, solving the water crisis? Yeah, he heard all of that.

Rasa looked at Amon in a new light.

Until now, he'd just thought of him as Nahil's childhood friend—a reckless guy who once encouraged Nahil to sneak out of the capital.

Sure, the records said Amon's family had saved the current Daimyō's life, but that didn't mean much to him… until now.

He felt like Amon was someone who actually cared about the Land of Wind and Suna village. Someone who understood their problems.

"This Amon guy… he's a good friend. Loyal, too. And he even sees the bigger picture," Rasa muttered to himself. "I just hope that part about solving the water crisis wasn't all talk."

Without wasting time, he sat down and began writing a letter to the Third Kazekage, mentioning Amon's words.

Maybe, just maybe, there was a real solution in there somewhere. He wanted to believe it, to see it.

After sending off the message, Amon and Nahil stepped out of the tent—

"So, Rasa-san, when can we reach the capital?" Amon asked as he wanted to arrive before the Wind Daimyō passed away. He didn't know exactly what kind of political mess was waiting for him… But it couldn't be good.

Rasa replied with a calm, friendly tone, "Amon-sama, we'll reach the capital in two days."

Luckily for the two admins, they weren't far from the Capital City. It was about 150 kilometers to the east, an easy two-day journey for them, maybe even shorter.

It was worth noting that Sunagakure was even closer to them now, lying roughly 130 kilometers to the southeast. Perhaps due to the scarcity of water in the Land of Wind, the distance between the capital, Sunagakure, and even other smaller villages was relatively short.

Settlements were packed closer together out of necessity.

Amon took note of this fact and smiled. This would actually make his plan much easier— though, for now, everything had to wait until they reached the capital.

"Alright then, Rasa-san. Just call me Amon... no need for the sama part. We'll be in your care from now on," Amon said warmly.

"It's my honor, Amon. And please… just call me Rasa." His face stayed stiff as he spoke, but a faint smile betrayed him. Rasa understood Amon's motive, and he welcomed it.

Amon gave a small nod before stepping toward the wagon.

Nahil followed behind. "I'm counting on you, Rasa-kun."

"I am really honored, Nahil-sama," Rasa replied, putting on what he hoped was a respectfully serious face—though he didn't really feel honored.

"Well… Rasa-kun, you already saved my life, so there's no need for so many formalities between us."

"From now on, you can just call me Boss," Nahil said with a grin, patting Rasa on the shoulder before hopping into the wagon after Amon.

"..."

Only Rasa was left standing there, feeling completely scammed. Somehow, calling someone Boss sounds like a favor now?

He wanted to curse out loud, but remembering that little bastard might become the next Wind Daimyō, he forced himself to calm down and turned to bark orders at a nearby ninja.

.

.

.