I'm alive?"
Maud opened his eyes, suddenly sat up, and was stunned to find himself lying on a simple wooden bed.
Before he could examine his surroundings, a sharp pain surged through his skull.
Flashes of images—some marked with intricate aura signatures—spun wildly in his mind like the flickering of a revolving lantern.
Unfamiliar.
Clear.
Vague.
A chaotic mixture of memories collided, seemingly the cause of the pain stabbing at his temples.
"I was clearly…"
Alongside the stinging pain, Maud's gaze turned hollow.
He vividly remembered being caught in the backlash of the DCM (Desire Compression Machine), the unpredictable Nen artifact wielded by the Zoldyck butler, Gotoh, during the chaos that broke out in the Hunter Association's main hall.
It had all happened in an instant.
He hadn't even gotten the chance to reinforce himself with Ken before his body twisted unnaturally, like a rope of hemp coiling in on itself.
The change had come without warning—but the pain, searing and deep, lingered. A vivid death-shadow clung to his thoughts.
Even now, it was as if he could still feel the Nen-infused agony rippling across his skin.
After what felt like an eternity, the dread that clung to him finally loosened.
He was still alive.
That alone was enough.
Only then did Maud shift his attention to his surroundings.
The room was no more than ten square meters in size, its walls and floor constructed from cracked, weathered wood. A faint musty scent filled the air.
The furnishings were sparse: the single bed he lay on, an undecorated wooden table with two chairs, and a mirror hanging slightly crooked on the wall.
From the low ceiling hung a dim yellow incandescent bulb, its weak glow barely pushing back the gloom.
There were no windows. No signs of life. Just stillness.
His eyes drifted to the dust-coated table and chairs before settling on the mirror.
In its reflection stood a boy with jet-black hair.
The young man looked to be fifteen or sixteen. His features weren't striking, but they were naturally balanced—clean, calm, and oddly likable.
His forehead was bound tightly in blood-streaked bandages, his complexion pale and sickly, his figure fragile.
Maud stared silently at the unfamiliar face, and slowly, the strange memories swimming in his mind began to settle.
Under the weight of these inherited fragments, Maud endured the pounding ache in his head. His expression grew uncertain as realization dawned.
"So that's what happened…"
He had crossed over again.
Not just in body—but this time, in soul.
He had survived. Somehow.
Exhaling slowly, Maud resisted the urge to leave the bed. Instead, he shut his eyes and allowed the boy's leftover memories to wash over him—trying to extract meaning, connections, anything useful.
Time passed.
When he opened his eyes again, sweat dotted his forehead.
"A slave ship… and pirates."
He wiped the sweat from his cheek with a trembling finger, muttering under his breath.
He had pieced together the origin of this vessel.
The boy's former life had begun aboard a merchant vessel, which had been ambushed by pirates during a cargo run.
All adults aboard were killed—the boy's parents included.
The survivors, only youths like him, were rounded up and sold into slavery.
In the dark bowels of a slave ship, crammed together on straw mats, they waited.
But days later, chaos erupted.
An unknown force had attacked the ship.
A cannonball shattered the wooden cell the boy was locked in.
And then—his memories ended.
Maud reached up, fingers brushing the bloodstained bandages.
He could feel no pain beneath them.
There was no memory of what came after the explosion.
Only this room.
But to have escaped—
To be alive—
That was something to cling to.
"Pirates… pirates… could this be the world of One Piece?"
Maud frowned.
It felt possible—but nothing was certain yet.
The only thing he could say for sure was this: everything would have to start over.
The five years of intense training under the Hunter Association's system—
The painstaking refinement of his Ten, Zetsu, and eventually the awakening of his unique Emission-based Nen—
All of it had brought him this far.
And if any of it remained… he could adapt.
"If only the ability remained…"
As that thought crossed his mind, reality shifted.
Without warning, a slim black notebook shimmered into existence beside him.
Its cover was matte, edged in silver lines, and bore two bold characters: [Hunter].
Beneath the word were four horizontal silver bars, still blank.
Pinned to the spine was an inkless quill, its aura pulsing faintly.
Maud's breath caught in his throat.
There was no Nen flowing through him—he could feel that much.
And yet, the ability had manifested.
And that meant…
Maud looked at the empty space along the four parallel silver lines on the cover.
Originally, those lines displayed the four active entries tied to his [Needs], drawn from his Nen-ability's conditions, but now… they had been wiped clean.
Maud flipped open the notebook.
The first page greeted him—completely blank.
Rustle—
He turned to the second page. Then the third…
Still nothing.
Once, these pages contained four years' worth of meticulous hunting records—targets defeated, Nen harvested, skills assimilated—painstakingly logged during his time in the Hunter Association. But now, it was all gone.
"Reset? No wonder I didn't feel any 'gain.'"
Although the data had been erased, the ability structure remained intact—still coded to him. That alone filled Maud with silent elation.
[Hunter's Note]was the personal Hatsu he'd developed during his Hunter career, born from a strategist's mindset. Designed to maximize the information edge of someone reborn in a dangerous world, it transformed intelligence gathering into power acquisition.
To activate it, five steps were required:
1. Set hunting needs.
2. Select the target.
3. Prepare the hunt.
4. Complete the hunt.
5. Reap the gain.
The first step involved imprinting four "needs" onto the silver lines—categories of power Maud wished to obtain.
Back in the Hunter x Hunter world, he had recorded:
• Nen specialization techniques,
• Gyo-level precision for "Heartbeat Listening,"
• Enhanced physical potential,
• Mastery of Emission-type Hatsu.
But here, in the world of One Piece, those Nen-centric needs were no longer practical.
Fortunately, the structure allowed some overlap.
"Needs" like physical combat mastery, swordsmanship, enhanced durability, Devil Fruit comprehension, and Haki experience could now be substituted.
Once his needs were listed, step two could begin: writing the name of a specific target on a blank page while visualizing their appearance, locking onto them spiritually.
The third step—hunt preparation—required thorough data entry: abilities, fighting style, weaknesses, aura flow (or in this world, Haki tendencies and battle rhythm).
Even if he had to start again from zero, with this ability, Maud could grow faster than ever before.
He was excited. But that excitement quickly gave way to composure.
He realized something:
Even though Hunter's Note remained with him, he didn't yet know if it would actually function in this new world.
If its framework wasn't compatible with this reality, it would all be meaningless.
Closing the book slowly, Maud murmured to himself, "It's a good start… but I need to understand where I am, and fast."
BANG!
A gunshot rang out from outside.
Maud's expression shifted instantly. He dropped to the floor on reflex, crouching beside the bed, eyes fixed on the closed wooden door.
More gunshots followed.
Short bursts. Rapid.
The staccato rhythm of chaos, echoing like distant firecrackers.
The sound didn't come from inside the house—it was somewhere outside. But Maud didn't relax.
Instead, his hand instinctively gripped Hunter's Note, the leather warm from residual aura, though not comforting.
In this unfamiliar body, in this weakened state, he had no real defense.
If danger burst through that door, he would be nothing more than a piece of unarmed meat waiting for the blade.
The gunfire continued for a full five minutes, then began to die down.
Maud remained frozen, staring at the door, for five more.
Those gunshots confirmed what instinct had already told him—this world was in turmoil.
Even with the Hunter's Note in his grasp, it offered no security, not yet.
Because without completing a successful hunt, the book remained just a glorified journal.
Tom. Tom.
Footsteps echoed. Approaching.
Maud's pupils contracted. He swiftly hid the notebook and stood, placing his back lightly against the wall beside the door.
Better to intercept from the side than be caught exposed on the creaky bed.
The steps came closer.
Holding his breath, Maud tilted his head to the side, eyes sharp.
Crunch—
The door creaked open with a protesting groan.
But no one entered.
Instead, something slid through the gap—a pistol muzzle, its black barrel glinting ominously under the room's yellow light.
And it was aimed directly at him… at an unnatural angle.
In that moment, Maud's body locked up, and his heart missed a beat.