Chapter One: The Hunter's Journal

“I… am still alive?” Maud opened his eyes and abruptly sat up, stunned to find himself lying on a crude wooden cot.

Before he had a chance to survey his surroundings, a sudden sharp pain stabbed through his head.

A barrage of fragmented images, riddled with fine cracks, whirled through his mind like a revolving lantern.

Unfamiliar. Vivid. Blurred.

Memories, tangled and jumbled, seemed to be the very cause of the pain in his head.

“I was clearly already…” Amid the pain, Maud’s eyes were filled with confusion.

He distinctly remembered being caught up in that uproar at the Hunter Association’s hall, where he had unfortunately been struck by the power of the Wish Machine belonging to the Zoldyck family.

Not only he, but even the protagonist group of the Hunter world and many of the Association’s strongest, had not been spared.

In the face of such an unreasonable force, as if capable of shattering the very boundaries between worlds, he had done nothing at all—yet was struck down regardless.

In a single instant, without even a chance to resist, his body had been twisted like a rope.

The calamity had come swiftly and without warning, but the searing pain lingered, casting the shadow of death over Maud’s thoughts.

Even now, he could almost feel the skin-splitting agony echoing from his flesh.

Only after a long time did the negative sensation left by death’s shadow slowly fade away.

Alive.

That was enough.

Only then did Maud finally have the presence of mind to examine his surroundings.

He found himself in a wooden room no more than ten square meters in size, the air tinged with a faint mustiness.

Cracks marred the wooden walls and floor, plainly visible to the naked eye.

The furnishings were meager: apart from the single bed on which Maud now lay, there was only a plain wooden table and chair, bare of any decoration, and a mirror hanging on the wall.

A low-wattage yellow incandescent bulb dangled from the ceiling, casting meager light around the room.

There was nothing else—no window, not even the faintest trace of one.

His gaze swept over the dust-laden table and chair, finally settling on the mirror, veiled by a thin layer of dust.

In the mirror’s reflection, Maud saw the face of a stranger—a black-haired youth.

The boy in the glass appeared about fifteen or sixteen, his features not handsome, but clean and pleasing.

Bandages, stained with blood, were wound around his forehead, his face as pale as if sickly, his whole body frail and feeble.

Maud stared blankly at his own reflection, while those unfamiliar memories gradually sharpened in his mind.

As these new memories washed over him, Maud, enduring the lingering pain, felt the uncertainty in his eyes deepen.

“So that’s what happened…”

He had crossed over again.

But this time, it was not his body, but his soul.

That, it seemed, was how he survived.

Letting out a long breath, Maud did not hurry to rise and further investigate his situation.

Instead, he closed his eyes, slowly sifting through the residual memories of this body, seeking useful information within.

After a long while, Maud opened his eyes, a thin sheen of sweat beading on his pallid face.

“A slave ship, and a pirate ship…”

Wiping away the sweat from his cheek with a finger, Maud bowed his head in a murmur.

He had finally sorted out the origin of this body.

Its previous owner was the son of a merchant, who, during a trading voyage, had the misfortune to be attacked by pirates.

Save for the handful of young boys like himself, all the adults aboard the merchant ship were slaughtered by the pirates—including his parents.

Afterward, he was sold onto a slave ship, locked in a straw-strewn room with a group of other children.

A few days later, the slave ship was suddenly attacked; a cannonball blasted open the room where he was held.

The memories ended there.

After that…

Maud touched the bandages on his forehead—his wound scarcely hurt now.

He had no recollection of how he came to this room.

But to have escaped death in this fashion—Maud felt nothing but gratitude and relief.

“Pirates… pirates… could this be the world of One Piece?”

Maud pondered.

He was not entirely sure.

But the only certainty was that everything had to be begun anew.

“If only my ability remained,” Maud thought to himself.

As the thought surfaced, without warning, a slim black notebook materialized in his hand.

On the cover, traced in silver, were two bold Chinese characters: Hunter.

Beneath the word “Hunter,” four blank parallel silver lines gleamed, and a feather quill—inkless—was clipped to the spine.

Maud’s eyes widened as he gazed at the conjured black notebook and quill.

He had no nen, yet the ability had activated.

Moreover…

Maud looked at the empty space over the silver lines.

Originally, those lines should have displayed words reflecting his four “requirements,” but now they had been wiped clean.

Maud opened the notebook.

Page after page was blank.

He flipped to the second, third page…

Still nothing!

Once, these pages recorded the results of his four years spent quietly “hunting” in the Hunter world. Now, all was gone.

“Reset… No wonder I can’t sense any ‘boost.’”

Though his past hunting gains had been erased, the ability itself remained—enough to fill Maud with delight.

The Hunter’s Notebook was the evolving ability Maud had painstakingly developed in the Hunter world, designed to maximize the informational advantage of a transmigrant by turning knowledge into power.

To use it, five steps were required:

Define the target requirement → Seek out the hunting target → Prepare for the hunt → Complete the hunt → Reap the spoils.

The first step was to inscribe on the silver lines four different needs according to his current situation. In the past, Maud had written: nen ability technique, heart rate sensing, potential aura, visible aura.

But in the world of One Piece, such requirements were clearly unworkable.

Yet some needs were universal.

Physical skills, swordsmanship, bodily strength, devil fruit experience, armament and observation haki…

Once “needs” were entered, he could write a target’s name on the page and conjure their image in his mind, thus completing the second step: selecting a hunting target.

The third step—preparation—required recording all accurate information about the target’s abilities.

The more detailed the intelligence, the greater the reward after personally hunting the target.

As long as the ability remained, even if he had to start over, he could grow swiftly.

Maud was excited, but quickly calmed himself.

He realized a problem.

Though the Hunter’s Notebook was still with him, he was unsure if it would function in this new world.

If it did not, his joy would be for nothing.

Closing the notebook slowly, Maud murmured, “At the very least, it’s a good start. For now, though, I need to figure out what’s happening.”

No sooner had the words left his lips than a gunshot sounded from outside.

Maud’s gaze sharpened; he reflexively dropped from the bed, eyes fixed warily on the closed door.

The shots grew more frequent, like fireworks bursting in the distance—though the sound was some way off.

Hearing that the gunfire came from outside the house, not within, Maud did not relax, but instinctively gripped the Hunter’s Notebook tighter.

In his current frail condition, if danger struck, he would be helpless prey.

The shooting continued for five minutes before finally subsiding, and Maud kept vigilant watch on the door the entire time.

The chaos outside had given him his first taste of the world’s disorder.

Clutching the notebook, he found no sense of security—for it was now little more than a token, useless until he completed his first hunt and gained some real benefit.

Thump, thump—

Shortly after the gunfire faded, Maud heard footsteps approaching from afar, growing nearer outside the door. His pupils contracted; he hid the notebook away.

Swiftly, he rose, moving silently, pressing his back against the wall to the right of the door.

Given the situation, it was wiser to stand by the door than crouch beside the empty bed.

Soon, the footsteps drew close.

Maud turned his head, watching intently, holding his breath.

Creak—

The wooden door was pushed open with a harsh, grating sound.

But no one entered.

Instead, the muzzle of a gun—a dark, gaping hole—was thrust through the gap.

With an uncanny angle, the barrel pointed straight at Maud.

In that instant, Maud’s heart missed a beat.

With his current body, a single shot would be the end of him.