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.”
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