Naruto: Chronicles of the Lost Library

The massive stone door didn't open like a secret. It fucking screamed.

The grinding echoed like the earth itself was pissed to let him in. Naruto stepped through, jaw tight, every nerve in his body screaming bad idea.

Behind him, the door slammed shut like a coffin lid.

Heavy. Final.

"Yeah, great. Fucking cozy already," he muttered.

The air inside was dead cold. Ancient. The kind of cold that didn't just touch your skin — it chewed through it. He followed the stairs downward. Stone under his boots. Dust in his nose. The place reeked of secrets that had been buried too long.

Then it opened up.

And for once, Naruto stopped talking.

A massive, circular chamber. Silent as hell.

And floating in the middle?

Scrolls.

Dozens of them. Not lying around — no, these bastards floated. Hung in midair like they owned the room. Each one glowed with a pale, eerie light that painted the walls in blue shadows. Markings ran across the curved stone — twisted, ancient-looking symbols. Not from the Leaf. Not from any damn place Naruto had seen.

He stepped closer.

Heart punching his ribs.

One scroll hovered just out of reach, taunting him. Daring him.

"This... doesn't look like any jutsu I've ever seen," he muttered.

He reached out.

Fool.

The second his fingers touched it — boom.

Black.

Pitch dark.

---

A vision hijacked his brain.

He was somewhere else. A battlefield. Torn apart. Silent.

A lone figure stood in the center — long white hair, eyes glowing with the Rinnegan, a fucking staff like some goddamn judgment stick. Behind him, a black flame writhed inside a floating stone. Alive. Cursed.

"To seal this darkness, a flame must be chosen..."

The voice was ancient. Cold. Heavy like a damn funeral bell in his head.

"One who burns bright, yet is cast aside. The Flame-Bearer. He shall walk into truth... or madness."

Then, nothing.

---

Naruto fell back like he'd been sucker-punched by a ghost.

"What the fuck was that?!"

He clutched his chest like his heart had been yanked out, stared at the scroll like it was a live grenade.

"Flame-Bearer?"

The word stuck in his throat like bile.

He looked around. Every scroll still floating. Still glowing.

But now he could feel it — like one of them had gotten inside his damn blood.

The scrolls weren't normal. These weren't some dusty-ass jutsu manuals. No.

They were memories.

Pure chakra. Trapped. Preserved.

They weren't teaching tools. They were fucking grave markers. Pieces of people who probably died screaming.

And somehow… one of those freaky-ass ghosts had picked him.

A chakra spike pulsed across the chamber.

Another glow.

Not from a scroll this time. A door on the far wall lit up red — a dull, throbbing glow, like a wound.

Naruto's breath caught.

He stared one last time at the floating scrolls. They didn't move. Didn't whisper. But they watched. He felt it.

"What the hell is this place?" he muttered.

His voice cracked a little.

Not from fear.

From something deeper.

Because now he knew.

The scroll didn't just guide him here.

It chose him.

Marked him.

Branded him like a cursed fuckin' tool for whatever ancient bullshit waited ahead.

And like it or not…

He was already too far in to crawl back out.