Chapter 1: Awakening in the Crimson Eyes
The weight of my new body felt strange, as if I was wearing someone else's skinâ€"which, technically, I was.
I opened my eyes slowly, my vision swimming into focus. Above me stretched a wooden ceiling decorated with intricate carvings, the kind that spoke of old traditions and careful craftsmanship. Sunlight filtered through silk curtains in soft golden streams, illuminating dust particles that drifted lazily through the air.
*Where am I?*
My chest rose and fell with deep breaths. My heart hammered against my ribs as fragmented memories cascaded through my mind like a broken film reel. Memories that weren't mine. Memories of crimson eyes reflecting moonlight. Memories of laughter and conversation in a language I shouldn't understand but somehow did.
I sat up abruptly, my hands trembling. They were smaller than I rememberedâ€"a teenager's hands, with long, slender fingers. My skin was pale, almost pale enough to glow. When I brought my hands closer to my face, I felt the unmistakable texture of skin and bone, but something else too.
Red eyes,a voice whispered in the back of my mind. You have the Kurta clan's scarlet eyes now.
Kurta clan.
The name meant something. It triggered a cascade of knowledge I shouldn't possess. The Kurta clanâ€"a small ethnic group living in a remote region, known for their special red eyes that appeared during emotional outbursts. That was what I'd become. That was what *Ben* was now.
I stumbled out of the low bed and made my way to a polished bronze mirror hanging on the wall. The reflection that stared back at me was not the face I remembered. Gone was the adult visage of my previous life. In its place was the face of a fifteen-year-old boy with sharp features, pale skin, and eyes that were currently a deep brownâ€"but I knew they could turn scarlet at any moment.
*Three years,* the knowledge surfaced again, clearer now. *The Phantom Troupe won't come for three years. I have time. I have time to prepare.*
A knock on the door interrupted my spiraling thoughts.
"Ben? Are you awake?" A woman's voice called from outside. "Mother prepared breakfast. You've been resting for so longâ€"we were getting worried."
*Mother.* I had a mother now. Family. The Kurta clan was my family.
I took a deep breath and steadied myself. Whatever had happenedâ€"whatever cosmic joke had transmigrated my soul into this bodyâ€"I needed to adapt. I needed to survive what was coming.
"I'm coming," I called back, my voice surprisingly steady for someone on the edge of a complete existential breakdown.
I dressed quickly in the traditional red and black Kurta clan garments laid out on a chair. The fabric felt smooth against my skin, and as I tied the sash around my waist, I tried to center myself.
One piece of knowledge burned brighter than the others: *The Error Pathway.*
In my previous life, or whatever life I'd lived before this, I'd read about a web novel called "Lord of the Mysteries." The Error Pathway was a sequence of power within that storyâ€"a pathway focused on theft, deception, and the stealing of things both tangible and abstract. And somehow, impossibly, that was the Nen ability I now possessed.
The realization should have been overwhelming, but instead, it felt like a key turning in a lock.
I pushed open the sliding door and stepped into the main room of what appeared to be a traditional Kurta home. A woman was setting out steaming bowls of rice and soup on a low table. She had the same pale skin and gentle features as my reflection, though her eyes were a warm brown. When she looked up at me, relief flooded her expression.
"Ben! You're finally up," she said, hurrying over. She reached out and pressed her palm against my forehead. "No fever. Good. You've been sleeping for two days straight. We thought you might be getting sick."
Two days. I had lost two days to what? The transition? The merging of souls?
"I'm fine, Mother," I said, and the word felt strange on my tongue, yet also perfectly natural. The Kurta memories supplied context, filled in the blanks. I was her son. I had always been her son. "Just tired."
"Come, eat," she said, guiding me to the table. "Your father will be back from his meeting with the village elders soon. He's been discussing the security preparations with them."
*Security preparations.* That made my skin prickle. The Phantom Troupe would come in three years. They would come at night, swift and merciless. They would slaughter nearly the entire clan for their scarlet eyes, which could be sold for astronomical prices on the black market.
But I knew something they didn't know I knew. And I had three years to prepare.
As I ate the simple but delicious meal my mother had prepared, I began to carefully examine my Nen. The Error Pathway started at Sequence 9â€"the weakest level. At this sequence, a Marauder could steal small physical objects through sleight of hand and deception. Not impressive by Nen standards, but it was a beginning.
More importantly, I could *feel* my Nen now. It was different from what I'd imagined. Instead of the typical Nen aura that other ability users possessed, my Nen felt... off. Twisted. It had a quality of concealment to it, as if it actively resisted being perceived.
*That's the nature of Error,* knowledge surfaced again. *The pathway of mistakes, theft, and things that shouldn't exist. My Nen will naturally hide itself, blend in, become invisible to casual observation.*
I needed to test it. I needed to understand the limits of this power.
"Mother, I'm going to go for a walk in the forest," I said after finishing my meal. "I need some air. The sleep has left me feeling restless."
My mother looked hesitant. "The forest isâ€""
"I won't go far," I assured her. "Just to the stream."
After some gentle persuasion, she relented, though not without making me promise to be careful. The Kurta clan was peaceful by nature, but the world beyond their village could be dangerous. She didn't know how right that assessment would prove to be.
The afternoon air was crisp as I made my way into the forest surrounding the village. Tall trees formed a canopy overhead, their leaves rustling in a gentle breeze. I found the stream easily enoughâ€"the path was worn from frequent useâ€"and settled on a smooth rock beside the flowing water.
Now came the moment of truth.
I closed my eyes and focused on my Nen, on that twisted, concealed power that felt like a mistake in reality itself. I tried to access the abilities of Sequence 9â€"the foundational level of the Error Pathway.
At first, nothing happened. I felt the resistance of unfamiliar power, the difficulty of commanding something that didn't quite feel like it belonged to me.
Then, a shift.
My eyes snapped open. In my lap lay a small pebble that definitely hadn't been there before. I picked it up, confused. I hadn't moved. I hadn't reached for it. It had simply... appeared.
*Stealing theft,* a whisper of knowledge provided the explanation. *At Sequence 9, I can steal small objects through conceptual sleight of hand. The object doesn't physically move through spaceâ€"reality simply readjusts to accommodate my possession of it.*
I looked at the pebble in wonder and terror. This was real. The Error Pathway was real. I had real power in this world.
And three years to master it before the Phantom Troupe arrived.
A sound in the distanceâ€"footstepsâ€"snapped me from my reverie. I quickly pocketed the pebble and opened my eyes fully. Through the trees, I could make out figures moving with purpose. Hunters, I realized instinctively. Not many, but enough to notice.
The world of Hunter x Hunter was vast and dangerous. People hunted Nen users. They hunted rare creatures. They hunted knowledge and treasure and danger itself.
And I, Ben of the Kurta clan, had just acquired the power to steal anything I wanted.
The question was: what would I do with it?
I stood up, brushing off my clothing, and began walking back toward the village. My mind was already churning through possibilities, strategies, and plans. The Error Pathway demanded intelligence and deception. It rewarded preparation and cunning.
For the first time since awakening in this new body, I smiled.
"Welcome to your new life," I whispered to myself as the village came into view. "Let's see if we can change fate."
The Crimson Eyes of the Kurta clan would not be extinguished on my watch. Not if I could help it. Not with the power of Error flowing through my veins, ready to steal destiny itself from the hands of the Phantom Troupe.