Chapter 1: Waking Up to the Absurdity of Being Dead
"Seriously? This is happening? I'm not, like, tripping balls on some dodgy street corner, am I?" Adam Richter's first coherent thought upon blinking his eyes open was, naturally, a highly articulate internal monologue of disbelief. He wasn't in his cramped, poster-plastered apartment anymore. The scent of stale ramen and desperation was gone, replaced by the distinct, slightly fishy tang of a port town. Sunlight, actual sunlight, was streaming through what looked suspiciously like a very generic, slightly rundown inn window. And the bed? Definitely not his futon. Too soft. Too… clean.
He shot upright, his limbs feeling strangely lighter, younger even. A quick pat-down confirmed it: no phone, no wallet, no half-eaten bag of chips. Just a thin, unfamiliar cotton shirt and equally unfamiliar, slightly baggy pants. And, oh god, his voice. It cracked. Puberty, apparently, was the ultimate prankster, following him across realities.
" Well, isn't this just peachy? One minute I'm debating whether to rewatch the Chimera Ant arc for the fifth time or finally do my taxes – spoiler alert, the ants won – and the next, poof! I'm starring in my own Isekai anime. Except, you know, less truck-kun, more… existential void? "
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, feeling the cool, worn wood beneath his bare feet. The room was sparse: a small wooden table, a single chair, and a surprisingly sturdy wardrobe that probably housed more dust bunnies than clothes. He peered out the window. Below, a bustling street teemed with people, their faces a mix of grim determination, frantic energy, and the occasional outright suspicious glint in their eyes. This wasn't just any port town. This was a port town that screamed "Hunter Exam pre-game lobby." The air hummed with an almost palpable tension, a blend of ambition and desperation. And then he saw it. A familiar, hulking figure with a briefcase that seemed permanently attached to his arm, arguing loudly with a street vendor about the price of something ridiculously mundane. Leorio. Oh, sweet mother of Gon's fishing rod, it was Leorio.
Adam promptly collapsed back onto the bed, a groan escaping his lips. " Of course. Of bloody course it's Hunter x Hunter. Because my life wasn't already a dumpster fire, let's just add 'potential to be eaten by a giant pig-hippo' to the resume. And I'm fourteen again, aren't I? Ugh, the indignity. I thought my awkward phase was over. Apparently, the universe decided I needed a sequel. "
He lay there for a good five minutes, staring at the peeling paint on the ceiling, trying to process the sheer, unadulterated absurdity of his situation. He, Adam Richter, connoisseur of cheap instant noodles and master of avoiding human interaction, was now apparently a cannon fodder NPC in his favorite anime. This wasn't some VR simulation, he pinched himself. Hard. Yep, pain. Real pain. So, not a dream. A nightmare, maybe, but a very, very lucid one.
Then, a voice, clearer than a freshly polished window pane, echoed in his mind. It wasn't his own inner monologue. This was different. Calmer. More… systemic.
[ ** SYSTEM MESSAGE: WELCOME, USER ADAM RICHTER. INITIALIZING IMMORTAL SYSTEM. ** ]
Adam sat up again, this time with a jolt that sent a minor jolt through his spine. "System? Are you telling me I got one of those cheat-code-esque systems? Like in those web novels where the protagonist becomes overpowered by doing literally nothing?" He looked around wildly, as if expecting a holographic instruction manual to materialize in mid-air. Nothing. Just the dingy room.
[ ** SYSTEM MESSAGE: CORRECT. YOUR IMMORTAL SYSTEM IS NOW ACTIVE. PRIMARY FUNCTION: SKILL ACQUISITION UPON UNIQUE DEATH. ** ]
"Skill acquisition upon unique death?" Adam repeated, slowly, a frown creasing his brow. "So, like, I die, and I get a skill from whoever killed me? That's… that's morbidly hilarious. And also, deeply inconvenient. Does that mean if a giant hippo-pig steps on me, I get its 'oink' ability? Because, frankly, I'm already pretty good at making embarrassing noises."
[ ** SYSTEM MESSAGE: THE SYSTEM ACQUIRES ONE RANDOM SKILL, NEN ABILITY, OR INNATE TALENT FROM THE KILLER. ABILITY POTENCY MAY VARY. ** ]
"Random? So it's a gacha system of death? Fantastic. My luck with gacha games is usually 'common item, common item, oh look, another common item.' I'm going to end up with a dozen skills for 'efficient toe-wiggling' or 'mastering the art of looking perpetually confused'." He paused, a thought, both horrifying and brilliant, sparking in his mind. "Wait. If I die to the same person a second time… what happens then?"
[ ** SYSTEM MESSAGE: SECOND DEATH TO THE SAME INDIVIDUAL RESULTS IN PERMANENT CESSATION OF EXISTENCE. GAME OVER. NO RESPAWNS. ** ]
Adam stared blankly at the wall. " Oh, for crying out loud! So it's not just a skill tree, it's a one-life-per-killer perma-death simulator! This is like Dark Souls had a baby with a casino, and the baby decided to spite me specifically. Well, at least it explains the whole 'Immortal System' thing. I'm immortal until I'm not. Classic paradox. "
He started pacing the small room, a manic grin slowly spreading across his face. "Okay, okay, let's break this down. Hunter x Hunter. Death. Skills. Immortality with an expiry date. This is insane. But… I know the plot! Most of it, anyway. I know who's dangerous, who's a pushover, and who's got skills worth dying for – literally."
He stopped pacing and looked out the window again. The bustling street. The general aura of impending doom. He needed a plan. And the first step of that plan, ironically, was to get himself killed. Safely. And by someone utterly unremarkable. He wasn't about to stroll up to Hisoka and be like, "Hey, buddy, wanna play a game of 'kill me for skills'?" Not yet, anyway. Maybe after a few upgrades.
"Alright, System," Adam declared, pointing a finger at the ceiling as if addressing a celestial customer service representative. "What's the lowest-risk death I can pull off around here? I'm thinking, like, a really incompetent mugger. Or maybe a particularly aggressive pigeon. Do pigeons count as unique individuals?"
[ ** SYSTEM MESSAGE: ANY UNIQUE INDIVIDUAL OR CREATURE CAPABLE OF INFLICTING LETHAL DAMAGE WILL TRIGGER SKILL ACQUISITION. SUGGESTION: SEEK A WEAK, NON-COMBAT-ORIENTED THREAT FOR INITIAL TESTING. ** ]
"Non-combat-oriented threat? So, like, a particularly nasty paper cut? Or stepping on a Lego brick just right?" Adam rubbed his chin, pondering. "No, no, that's too passive. I need to be proactive. If I'm going to be the master of my own demise, I need to start strong. Or, you know, weak, but with style. A dramatic, yet ultimately pointless, death."
He threw on the mysterious clothes from the wardrobe – they fit surprisingly well, a basic dark tunic and rough trousers, clearly designed for utility over fashion. He then made his way downstairs, the inn's common area surprisingly empty, save for a gruff-looking innkeeper who barely spared him a glance.
Out on the street, the air was thick with chatter, the scent of street food, and an undercurrent of desperation. Perfect. He needed to find someone. Someone harmless enough to be a practice dummy for his very first, utterly bizarre "skill acquisition" ritual. He spotted a knot of shady-looking characters huddled in an alleyway, their shifty eyes scanning the crowd. Classic mugger types. Exactly what he needed.
" Okay, Adam, this is it. Your first glorious death. Try not to make it too embarrassing. No screaming, no begging. Maybe a cool one-liner? 'Tell my goldfish I loved him.' Nah, too cliché. 'I'll be back'? Too Terminator. How about… 'Oops. My bad.' Yeah, that sounds about right. "
He took a deep breath, puffed out his chest, and sauntered towards the alley with an air of casual confidence he absolutely did not feel. He jingled a few imaginary coins in his pocket, trying to look like an easy mark. As he got closer, one of the figures, a scrawny man with a twitching eye and a poorly concealed, rusty knife, detached himself from the group and stepped into Adam's path.
"Hey, kid," the man snarled, his voice raspy. "Got any spare change for a fella down on his luck?"
Adam stopped, feigning a bewildered innocence. "Oh, goodness, a fella down on his luck? That's just terrible! What a tragic tale. Tell you what, I might have something for you." He reached into his (empty) pocket, his eyes widening slightly as the mugger's hand instinctively tightened on the knife's hilt. "But first, a philosophical question: If a tree falls in a forest, and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?"
The mugger blinked, utterly thrown by the non-sequitur. "What the hell are you talking about, kid? Just hand over your money!" He lunged, a rusty blade flashing in the dim alley light. It was clumsy, telegraphed, and utterly perfect.
Adam didn't even try to dodge. He simply closed his eyes, a small, slightly insane smile on his face. " Well, here goes nothing. Or everything. Depending on how this 'immortality' thing works. "
The rusty knife plunged into his gut. It hurt. A lot. More than he expected for a "controlled" death. His eyes flew open, a gasp escaping him. The mugger stared, wide-eyed, clearly surprised the kid hadn't even attempted to resist. Adam felt a strange, cold sensation spread from the wound, followed by a dizzying rush. His legs buckled. He was falling. And then, everything went black.
[ ** SYSTEM MESSAGE: UNIQUE DEATH DETECTED. SKILL ACQUISITION INITIATED. ** ]
[ ** SYSTEM MESSAGE: ACQUIRED SKILL: [E-RANK SKILL] BASIC KNIFE PROFICIENCY. ** ]
[ ** SYSTEM MESSAGE: REVIVAL IN PROGRESS. ** ]
Adam gasped, his eyes snapping open. He was back in the inn room, lying on the bed. The sun was still streaming through the window, the faint sounds of the bustling port town drifting in. He sat up, immediately checking his gut. No wound. Not even a mark. He touched the spot where the knife had pierced him. Nothing. Just smooth skin. He felt… fine. Better than fine, actually. Like he'd just woken up from a really good nap, except for the lingering phantom pain.
" Well, I'll be damned. It actually worked. I died! And I got a skill! Basic Knife Proficiency. Ooh, exciting. Now I can probably slice bread without losing a thumb. What an upgrade to my life. " He rolled his eyes, but a genuine thrill coursed through him. It was real. All of it.
"Okay, System," he whispered, a newfound respect in his voice. "So, how exactly do I know I have this 'Basic Knife Proficiency'? Do I just instinctively know how to juggle kitchen knives now?"
[ ** SYSTEM MESSAGE: SKILLS ARE INTEGRATED INTO THE USER'S CONSCIOUSNESS AND MUSCLE MEMORY. PRACTICAL APPLICATION IS RECOMMENDED FOR MASTERY. ** ]
"Muscle memory, huh? So, I'm basically a human flash drive for skills. Neat." He got off the bed, a strange energy buzzing beneath his skin. This was going to be a wild ride. The Hunter Exam was just around the corner. And Adam Richter, the world's most reluctant, sarcastic, and death-seeking protagonist, was ready to annoy everyone in it. Starting with… well, everyone.
He glanced out the window one last time. Leorio was still down there, probably still arguing. Gon and Killua, wherever they were, had no idea what was coming. A walking, talking, meta-knowledge-spouting, death-prone headache. And he couldn't wait.