Chapter 1: Beginning – Meteor City
"Still not working..."
A sigh echoed in his ears.
Mord abruptly opened his eyes, only to see countless white vapors surging violently from his entire body.
Like steam bursting from a boiling kettle.
What in the world was happening?
As the vapor poured out, he felt the energy in his body rapidly draining away.
"Huh?"
Tap!
The sound of footsteps halting.
"Listen up, kid!"
"If you don't wanna die, do exactly as I say! Close your eyes and imagine your own image—any posture is fine—while focusing on keeping your aura inside!"
A tone that brooked no argument.
Desperate times call for desperate measures. Mord slowly closed his eyes as instructed.
"Now, imagine your aura circulating like blood through your body—starting from the top of your head, passing through your right shoulder, arm, leg... then to the left..."
Mord followed the instructions, and it worked smoothly.
The aura obeyed his will effortlessly.
"Next, imagine the flow slowing down... gradually coming to a halt..."
"Let it sway around you, forming a wall-like barrier."
The moment the words were spoken—
The aura around Mord solidified completely, as if turning tangible.
Zald looked at the boy before him, a flicker of shock flashing in his eyes.
"To think such... a genius truly exists!"
As if born with it, he didn't even need to be taught how to perform Ten effortlessly. With just a little guidance, he mastered it with ease.
Zald couldn't help but recall his own days of Nen training—how long had it taken him to fully grasp Ten? A month? Longer? Even then, his Hunter instructor had praised him as a prodigy.
This was truly remarkable.
Terrifying, even—like a monster. Just moments ago, his life force had been on the verge of depletion, yet now he could unleash such an immense energy.
"Slowly open your eyes..." Snapping out of his thoughts, Zald stared at the boy with a feverish intensity.
When Mord opened his eyes, he was startled by the man's terrifying gaze—it was like an otaku spotting black stockings, or a gay man spotting a muscle-bound hunk. Utterly horrifying.
"How does it feel?"
Mord could tell the man meant no harm. He focused inward, frowning slightly at the strange sensation.
"It's like... being wrapped in thick mucus all over. Hmm... like wearing a weightless suit."
"I know you have a lot of questions... From now on, maintain this state at all times—even while eating and sleeping! Meet me here at this time tomorrow!"
Mord watched as the man's face twisted in pain, his eyes turning bloodshot and his expression growing increasingly ferocious. After leaving those words, he turned and hurried away.
Leaving Mord alone, utterly bewildered.
Only now did he finally have time to process his situation.
He remembered not long ago, he was still at home watching the PV for the October anime "Bleach: Thousand-Year Blood War Arc." How did he end up here in the blink of an eye?
His head throbbed with pain.
Mord knocked on his skull, and suddenly, countless fragmented memories surged up.
At that moment, it felt like his brain was about to burst.
He collapsed to his knees in agony, dry heaving.
He had no idea how much time passed before he finally recovered.
The original owner of this body, Mord, was an orphan from Meteor Street and currently worked as a waiter at the Shinjuku Tavern in District D of Meteor Street.
So... was I using Nen abilities earlier?
This is the world of Hunter x Hunter?!
The original Mord's memories were incomplete. He only recalled that the man who looked utterly weathered and destitute was a customer at their tavern. The man had casually taken down a few troublemakers with ease.
Seeing the man leave, Mord had chased after him, hoping to beg him to take him as a disciple—and then came the scene from earlier.
What kind of Li Xiaoyao and Drunken Sword Immortal plot is this? Mord inwardly complained. Is this the legendary Ten-Mile Slope outside the city?
The last exchange in his memory went like this:
"I want to become stronger."
"Even at the cost of your life?"
"Yes!"
"Fine."
...
In other words, this man named Zald had forcibly opened all of Mord's aura pores with his own aura. The excessive loss of life energy had led to his death.
And in turn, it had caused Mord's transmigration.
Good.
Now he finally understood the situation.
Mord glanced in the direction Zald had left before turning back toward Meteor Street.
Though called a "street" in name, Meteor Street could practically be considered a city.
The land area of Meteor Street was roughly equivalent to that of the Republic of Rabi, spanning about 6,000 square kilometers with a population of around 8 million.
It was divided into four districts.
The closer to the outskirts, the harsher and more chaotic the living conditions became.
Firearms,
Organs,
Red-light districts,
Illegal drugs.
Anything that could provoke ordinary people's nerves could be found here.
Fugitives,
Abandoned infants,
Monsters,
Trash.
This world... discards... everything... and this place takes it all in.
In official records, this was a no-man's-land.
Its residents had no records either.
A forsaken place.
That was Meteor Street.
Mord walked for hours before finally returning to Meteor Street just as night fully fell.
Under the sunset, he gazed at the endless piles of garbage littering the outskirts of Meteor Street, the vultures circling overhead, and the masked figures scavenging in the distance.
Familiar memories surfaced.
As time passed, Mord's soul gradually fused with this body.
Beyond these trash heaps lay District D of Meteor Street. At its center stood a tavern—the Shinjuku Tavern where Mord worked.
The summer heat was oppressive, and all the doors and windows of the tavern were wide open. A breeze swept through the hall, causing the two iron plaques hanging on either side of the entrance to sway back and forth, producing a pleasant clinking sound.
Through the open door, one could see the tavern's main hall lined with seven or eight tables. It was peak dining hours, and nearly every table was occupied by customers.
They drank cheap wheat ale, ate what looked like low-quality food, and chatted loudly—a lively scene.
Mord kept his head down, hoping to slip straight into the kitchen. But the moment he stepped over the tavern's threshold, a sharp voice rang out.
"Mord, where the hell have you been all this time?!"
"Don't you know how busy we are right now?"
Mord had no choice but to turn around and face the woman in the distance, forcing an apologetic smile. "Sister Maduo..."
Standing behind the counter was the voluptuous proprietress of this tavern, Maduo, dressed in a light purple off-the-shoulder dress.
"Cut the crap and get to work!"
"You trying to work me to death?!"
Maduo's ample bosom was half-exposed, her pale skin dazzlingly distracting. Mord didn't know where to look until her scolding came as a welcome relief.
He immediately threw himself into his waiter duties, efficiently serving drinks to the customers.
Only then did Maduo nod in satisfaction.
Yet there was something peculiar in the way she looked at Mord.
"Just half a day apart... how did this kid awaken Nen abilities..."