The bustling city shone brightly under the night sky, neon lights flashing in a dazzling display. The roar of a convertible sports car's engine echoed through the busy streets, drawing the attention of pedestrians as it came to a halt in front of a grand, well-lit hotel.
A young man, dressed in a sleek tuxedo and wearing a stylish hat, leaped out of the car. Without a second thought, he tossed the keys to the approaching valet and hurried up the stairs.
"Welcome back, Mr. Saito." The doorman greeted him with a polite smile as he held the door open.
"Has my package arrived?" Haruto Saito asked quickly.
"Yes, sir. It has been delivered to your suite." The doorman responded respectfully.
"Thanks!" Haruto flashed a smile and, with a smooth flick of his wrist, produced a small slip of paper seemingly out of thin air before slipping it into the doorman's pocket—a generous tip.
Striding through the hotel lobby, Haruto headed straight for the elevator.
Haruto Saito, 27 years old, a genius magician. Once the apprentice and prized student of the legendary magician David Rolls, Haruto had gone independent at the young age of 22. Now, he was the most renowned Japanese magician in the world and the highest-paid performer in the industry.
Fresh off a grand performance at the Bellagio, Haruto had returned to his hotel in a hurry.
Inside his lavish suite, several large silver metal cases were stacked in the living room. Haruto moved swiftly to inspect them one by one, ensuring that his magic props were all intact.
Everything checked out.
Exhaling in relief, Haruto leaned back. Magic props were sacred to any magician, and Haruto was no exception. Transporting them always posed risks, and past incidents had made him particularly cautious—on top of that, he had a serious case of OCD.
After finishing his inspection, Haruto retrieved a clean towel from his luggage and meticulously wiped down every case and prop in the living room.
A warm shower, a fresh change of clothes.
An hour later, now dressed in a luxurious silk robe, Haruto stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, a glass of red wine in hand, gazing down at the dazzling nightlife of the city of entertainment.
"Ding-dong!"
His smartphone, resting on the coffee table, vibrated with a notification.
Haruto picked it up—an alert for an in-game event.
Outside of magic, Haruto's one and only passion was mobile gaming. Like millions of others in this era, he was a dedicated gamer. But unlike most, Haruto wasn't into RPGs, shooters, racing games, or simulations—he exclusively played card games. Over the years, he had tried more than 300 different card-based mobile games.
Currently, he was hooked on a game called "Card Emperor."
The midnight event: Elemental Furnace.
Event Rules: Players could sacrifice cards into the "Furnace." Each tap sacrificed a card, and at the end of the round, prestige points were calculated. The higher the total prestige, the better the rewards.
Haruto glanced at the time—two minutes left before the event began.
"Battery's low… damn it."
Noticing his phone was down to 9% charge and the battery icon had turned red, Haruto rushed back to his bedroom, grabbed his charger, and returned to the living room. A power outlet was conveniently located near the sofa.
Plugging in his phone, he waited.
Then, he noticed something unbearable—fingerprints smudging his screen.
Unacceptable.
Dashing back to his bedroom, he grabbed a cleaning cloth and returned to the living room. Standing by the coffee table, he carefully wiped his phone screen clean before setting it down with satisfaction.
The countdown ended.
Midnight struck.
The event screen popped up on his phone—an animated image of a furnace, with a glowing "Sacrifice" button. Haruto hunched forward, fingers poised, and began tapping at high speed.
Each event round lasted three minutes, with a total of twelve rounds.
Haruto had amassed a collection of "junk cards" in the game, and now was the time to dump them.
Ten seconds in, he suddenly paused, his face darkening.
There were fingerprints on his screen again.
His own fingerprints…
The event was ongoing.
Without missing a beat, Haruto grabbed the cloth with his left hand and swiftly wiped the screen, while his right hand continued tapping at breakneck speed.
This pattern continued—every few seconds, he'd wipe the screen and resume tapping.
Unbeknownst to him…
Due to simultaneous gaming and charging, his phone was heating up. And because of his obsessive wiping and relentless tapping, the heat was intensifying.
He was too focused on the game and his clean screen to notice.
Then, two minutes in—
BOOM!
An explosion.
Blinding flames.
Shards of glass and plastic burst outward, embedding deep into his left eye.
Haruto instinctively shot up, clutching his face, a guttural scream of agony tearing from his throat as he collapsed onto his knees.
His final thought before losing consciousness:
Why did my phone explode…?
One day later.
World News Headline: "World-renowned magician Haruto Saito dies in a freak accident caused by a smartphone explosion in his Las Vegas penthouse suite."
Darkness. Endless, suffocating darkness.
Then—consciousness.
"You hit him too hard!"
"Who knew he was this fragile? It was just one punch."
"You're a Jonin! He's just a kid."
"Kid? He's an assassin. He took out three of our Hyuga scouts. If we hadn't arrived, who knows how many more he'd have killed?"
The sharp tang of blood mixed with a foul stench filled Haruto's nostrils.
Dazed, his left eye throbbing with unbearable pain, he groaned.
Slowly, he lifted his head. His vision swam, but he could make out two figures—
One, a man in a sleeveless flak jacket, a long sword strapped to his back.
The other, clad in a dark cloak, back turned, walking away.
Haruto's breath hitched.
Kunai.
His gaze fixated on the weapons strapped to their bodies. The realization hit like a thunderbolt.
"No… no way…"
His eyes widened in horror.
He wasn't in Las Vegas anymore.
He was in the world of Naruto.