2025-04-08 04:26:39Darkness.
That was Leo’s first conscious experience. Not the poetic kind of darkness—no gentle metaphors or soft lullabies. This was void. The kind of black that made blackholes seem like well-lit bedrooms.
He was floating in nothing, no pain, no sound, no rent reminders, no Chef Chu screaming about unpaid deliveries. For a fleeting moment, Leo thought: So this is it, huh? Death. Kinda cozy.
Then, reality dropkicked him.
A blinding pain detonated in his skull like a mini-nuke. His eyes snapped open with the grace of a drunk goat. The world above him was no hospital ceiling. No angelic chorus or haloed nurses. Just a blood-orange sky—an ominous kind of orange, like the sun was bleeding out—and the canopy of twisted, horror-movie trees, their violet leaves swaying like they were whispering dark secrets.
Leo groaned. “If this is hell, the devil needs a serious landscaping consultant…”
He tried sitting up. Bad idea. Every nerve in his body screamed like a toddler denied candy. He collapsed again with a pained wheeze, blinking against the coppery sky. The air stank of iron and something burnt. His tongue felt like he’d swallowed sandpaper.
Then came the internal monologue.
“Okay, let's assess,” he muttered, half-delirious. “One: I’m alive. Maybe. Two: I'm flat on my back in a murder-forest. Three: My ribs feel like they’ve been used as a xylophone by a pissed-off gorilla.”
A faint chime echoed in the air—like a fantasy game loading screen—and a neon-blue interface shimmered into existence above him.
Leo blinked. “...Did I just unlock Microsoft Excel with my thoughts?”
The glowing screen pulsed with life.
"Welcome, new user. System Activated."
“Oh hell no,” Leo whispered. “I’ve seen this anime. I’m either about to be overpowered or die in five minutes.”
The screen flickered again, and a flat, AI-female voice that sounded like a mix between an overworked customer service agent and a school librarian echoed into his brain.
"System Diagnostic: Scanning identity..."
“Wait, wait, no—don’t scan me! I haven’t cleared my search history—!”
"Name: Leonis Argent."
"Hunter Class: F-Class (Lowest Tier).""Family Rank: Disgraced.""Guild Affiliation: None.""Social Status: Orphaned – Unregistered Citizen.""Position in Hierarchy: Non-essential.""Threat Level: 0.3%.""Reputation: Laughingstock.""Synchronization: 25%... 67%... 89%... Complete."
Leo stared blankly at the screen. “...Did I get roasted by a computer?”
The system, with zero chill, continued:
"Welcome Package Unlocked."
Before he could mouth another sarcastic remark, a glowing cube materialized mid-air. Covered in floating runes, it hovered like a smug Rubik's cube on steroids. It cracked open with a flash, releasing a golden light that hit Leo square in the chest.
"Reconstructing host body..."
Leo had about three seconds to say “Wai—” before every cell in his body spontaneously decided to remodel itself like a cursed IKEA kit. His back arched violently off the forest floor as bones snapped, realigned, and regenerated like time-lapse footage of a human science project.
He screamed. Loudly. With flavor.
It felt like being microwaved inside out while getting a deep-tissue massage from Thor.
Then silence.
No pain. No broken ribs. Just… power. Like something deep in his DNA had been juiced with battery acid and caffeine.
Panting, he sat up. His once-torn clothes were clinging pitifully to his now chiseled frame like an apology. He glanced at his abs. “Okay, abs... Not hallucinating. This is officially the weirdest glow-up in history.”
"Host body restored to 100%."
“Thanks for the unsolicited chiropractic session,” Leo muttered, brushing leaves from his hair. “Now—what the actual hell is going on?”
The system obliged like a drama-loving narrator.
"You are in Eldoria — a parallel world governed by Hunters, plagued by monsters, ruled by demons, and dictated by ranks. You have been transmigrated via Death Route Alpha-Zeta 09 and selected to be a Hunter."
Leo’s jaw dropped. “Trans-what-now? Like... I got isekai’d? Through a death route?! Was the truck really necessary?!”
"Correct. You are now bound to the Hunter System. All actions will be monitored. Failure to accept or complete missions will result in permanent death. This system cannot be deactivated."
Leo blinked. “So... I can’t log out?”
"You are not in a game."
“Oh, good,” he snapped, “because this is so much better.”
The screen shimmered again.
"You have been granted your first ability: ‘Adaptable Body.’ Skill Level: 1. Passive ability. Allows user to adapt to extreme conditions and survive one near-fatal experience per day. Cooldown: 24 hours."
He paused. “So I’m basically... cockroach-level durable?”
"Affirmative."
Leo’s eye twitched. “Fan-freaking-tastic.”
"You have five days to accept your first mission. Do you wish to open the Mission Menu now?"
Leo looked around. Purple trees. Growling shadows. Blood-sky.
His mind flicked back to Earth: cold leftovers, canceled rent, and a life where even his ramen had more flavor than his future.
He exhaled slowly.
“No.”
"Mission Menu deferred. You have four days, 23 hours, and 59 minutes remaining."
He stood, cracked his neck, and surveyed the nightmare landscape around him. This world? Eldoria?
It wasn’t his grave.
It was his reset button.
He rolled his shoulders. "Alright, Eldoria. You took my death, gave me a six-pack, and dropped me into your hellhole. Game on."
Then a distant roar echoed across the trees. It was low, guttural—like a chainsaw having a tantrum.
Leo’s grin returned, razor-sharp. “Ooooh. Is that my welcoming committee?”
The wind howled, something massive stirred in the shadows, and the ground trembled slightly.
Leo chuckled, wild and unbothered.
“Let’s dance, you pixelated nightmare fuel.”
Previous Chapter
Latest Chapter
INTO THE RIFT
The morning air hung heavy over Cinder Valley, thick with fog and the iron-scent of distant magic. The sun had barely crept over the jagged horizon, casting long shadows across the group of armed hunters that stood like sentinels on the rocky edge. Clad in a chaotic medley of armor, robes, and reinforced suits, they ranged in power from battle-hardened D-class to the almost mythical S-class. And amidst them, like a drop of ink in a vat of steel, stood Leo—the sole F-class hunter.Leo swallowed, adjusting the strap of his light pack and wondering, not for the first time, how the hell he’d been roped into this suicide mission. His hood shadowed his face, and his fingers flexed around the dagger at his side—a pitiful weapon compared to the arsenal carried by those around him.A man stepped forward from the group. Tall and broad-shouldered with a cruel scar coiling from wrist to bicep, the leader’s presence silenced murmurs before he even spoke. His voice, when it came, rolled like thunder
Task
Leo sat heavily on the now manageable bed. The now thick sci-fi walls of the cottage did little to block out the forest's ambient noise: crickets chirping in rhythm, the distant hoot of an owl, and the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. With a sigh, he dismissed the creaking around him and focused his gaze forward. The moment of truth had arrived."System interface," he muttered.A familiar blue screen shimmered into existence in front of his eyes. Its glow softly illuminated his face as line after line of data scrolled past. He leaned in, eyes narrowing with anticipation. At the top of the interface, nestled between his basic info and the experience bar, was a glowing box labeled [Mission Rewards]. A grin began to tug at the corners of his mouth.He tapped it.A cascading list unfurled in the center of the window:+25 Stat PointsNew Passive Trait: EndureNew Skill: Level SenseTitle Earned: Unlikely SlayerItem: Skill Orb (Uncommon) His eyes caught the last item—Skill Orb. The
A mess
The air outside the Central Government Guild office was sharp with the scent of steel and city grime, the late afternoon sun bleeding orange across the concrete sidewalks. The hum of engines, chatter from passing hunters, and the distant whistle of automated transports painted a symphony of civilization's pulse. Amid the chaos, Leo tucked his hands into the pockets of his worn hoodie, shoulders slightly hunched, eyes fixed on the ground.His thoughts spun in quiet disarray. How did the system manage to block out its own traces from the memory extraction? The Rift data had been partially preserved, yet every moment the system had intervened was a complete void. Not even a flicker. It was as though the system had slipped through reality's fingers.Leo sighed, kicking a stray pebble. "Well, it’s not my headache," he muttered to himself. "As long as the system stays hidden, I should be fine."His eyes flickered with realization."Oh right!" he said out loud, snapping his fingers. "The mis
No complaints
"Sir, something’s jamming the signal!""Stabilize it!" Haruki barked."We can’t! It’s like... it’s like part of his memory is actively resisting extraction!"On the screen, Leo's figure blurred.The Rift twisted unnaturally, and the final moments of the fight were shrouded behind a veil of static and darkness.No matter what the technicians did, they couldn’t pierce through it.Leo, meanwhile, gritted his teeth against the pain pounding inside his skull.He could feel the System inside him — awake, furious, shielding him.{INTEGRITY MAINTAINED. SENSITIVE MEMORY SEALED.}Another surge of static rolled across the monitors.Haruki raised a hand calmly. "End the extraction."The machines powered down with a dying whine. The humming circlet unlocked itself from Leo's forehead with a click. The restraints loosened.For a moment, Leo sat there, gasping for air, drenched in cold sweat, his head swimming with nausea. Every nerve ending felt raw, exposed.A couple of technicians hurried forward
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: MEMORY LANE
Two heavily armored guards escorted Leo down a narrow, dimly lit hallway. The walls were a sterile white, but the flickering overhead lights cast long, eerie shadows along the floor, making every step feel like a march toward execution.At the end of the hall stood a thick, metallic door — massive, imposing, humming faintly with energy.One of the guards stepped forward, pressed his hand against a glowing blue panel.With a hydraulic hiss, the door slid open, revealing the Memory Analysis Chamber.Leo’s breath hitched.The room was like something out of a science fiction nightmare.Cold. Metallic. Inhuman.Banks of monitors lined the far walls, displaying static-ridden images and streams of unreadable data. The scent of disinfectant was so strong it stung his nostrils. At the center of the room was the chair.It wasn’t just any chair — it looked like a mechanical throne, dark steel with thick leather straps dangling ominously from the armrests and footrests.Above it, a spider-like ar
CHAPTER TWELVE: ECHOES OF TRUTH
Leo stared at the man in front of him, his mind whirling with disbelief.The resemblance was uncanny—broad-shouldered, only that this version of Chef Chu was quite muscular, but with the same sharp brown eyes, the same thin lips that quirked when amused."Chef Chu." The name slipped out before he could stop it, like a reflex from deep confusion.The man said nothing at first. His face remained an impassive mask, betraying no emotion. Then, in a slow, calculated gesture, he motioned for Leo to sit.Director Varnes stood rigidly at attention beside him, and to his right, Kale smirked with barely concealed disdain. The sterile office, illuminated by thin bands of light from the ceiling, felt colder with every second that passed.Without wasting time, the man straightened his stance, folding his arms neatly behind his back."My name," he began, voice low and authoritative, "is Haruki Chuu. Acting President of the Central Government Guild."Leo’s brows twitched. "Haruki Chuu? So Chef Chuu w
CHAPTER ELEVEN: THE GUILD'S GRASP
At exactly one hour past Kale’s departure, the silence outside the infirmary shattered with the synchronized thud of boots. Five men dressed in pitch-black uniforms approached Leo, each one towering over him like walking tanks. Their suits shimmered faintly in the sun, armored yet seamless. Black combat gloves, steel-toed boots, and dark shades that masked their expressions — the complete image of elite enforcement.Compared to Leo’s lean frame, they were gargantuan, with shoulders so broad they could cast shadows over him. The emblem of the Central Government Guild was etched in silver on their left shoulders. One of them motioned, and without a word, Leo fell into step, flanked on all sides as they guided him toward a waiting black van. The same emblem was displayed boldly across the doors — a silver eye encased in a circle, watching everything.Leo felt their aura — steady, cold, suffocating. These men were far above his level. He could sense the difference, even if he couldn’t quan
CHAPTER TEN: VISITOR
The first thing Leo felt was the stiffness in his limbs. Then the soft humming of fluorescent lights. The antiseptic scent of the hospital wafted into his nostrils, grounding him in the present. His body was oddly light, and his chest didn’t hurt as much as he expected. He blinked groggily, his vision sharpening just in time to catch sight of Captain Draegon and Vice-Captain Nyx standing at the foot of his bed.“You’re awake,” Draegon said, voice calm and composed.Leo opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a low groan. His throat was dry, and his head still felt like it had been through a war zone.Draegon stepped forward and placed a firm hand on Leo’s shoulder, keeping him from sitting up too quickly. “Easy. You’ve been out for two days.”Leo frowned. “Two days?”Nyx gave a curt nod. “We found you in the inner floor of a Rift in Darkvale Forest. Barely breathing. Your vitals were a mess, but… now?” She narrowed her eyes slightly. “It’s like your wounds vanished overni
CHAPTER NINE: Did He Take Them Down?
The air was thick with tension as the team of D-class hunters approached the source of the unstable energy. The team halted in front of a small opening, eyeing the swirling, unstable void that stretched open before them. It was a mysterious phenomenon, one that none of them had encountered before, and the air felt charged with danger.Captain Alexander Draegon stood at the front, his sharp green eyes scanning the Rift. At 6'2", he was a tall, imposing figure with short-cropped dark brown hair and a chiseled jawline that hinted at his no-nonsense attitude. His combat specialization was swordsmanship, and he wielded a long, sleek blade that hummed with an ancient aura."I don't like this," Captain Draegon muttered, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, instinctively ready for a fight. "There's something off about this Rift."Beside him, Vice-Captain Nyx frowned, her piercing amber eyes flicking to the swirling Rift. Elara was young but capable—quick-
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