The hum of machinery echoed faintly, a rhythmic vibration coursing through the walls as the dimly lit elevator descended. The young boy opened his eyes slowly, his vision blurring before adjusting to the dull, yellowish light overhead. Panic coursed through his veins as he sat up abruptly, scanning the confined space. His reflection in the polished steel doors stared back—a slim, pale figure with messy black hair and wide, wary eyes.
"Where... am I?" he whispered, his voice trembling. The elevator jerked slightly, and his heart leapt to his throat. "Oh no, this is it. The dreaded 'wake-up-in-a-mysterious-elevator' trope. Great. Just great."
He took a deep breath, trying to collect his thoughts. But his mind was a whirlwind of confusion and fear. This wasn't his room, his home, his world—
Wait.
The memories clicked into place with a sickening lurch. He wasn't in his world anymore. He had transmigrated.
A cold sweat broke out on his forehead as the reality sank in. "Of course," he muttered. "Because living in my world wasn't stressful enough. Now I get to play 'Survive or Die: Fantasy Edition.'"
He clenched his fists to stop his hands from shaking. "Okay, okay. First things first. Who am I? And, more importantly, do I get cool powers?" He concentrated, trying to will any memories into existence, but his mind was blank.
Almost instinctively, he thought, Status.
To his astonishment, a translucent window materialized before him, glowing faintly. Words and numbers floated in an elegant, organized fashion:
Name: Lucas Greystone - The last Assassin from a family of assassins
Age: 14
Level: 24
Attributes: Physical: 35, Spirit: 85, Aura: 1200
Nen Category: Conjurer
Nen Skills: Ten, Zetsu, Ren, Hatsu
Lucas stared at the information, his heart pounding. Lucas Greystone. It wasn't his name, but it sounded... cool. Like something out of a spy thriller. "Lucas Greystone," he said aloud, trying to sound suave. It came out shaky. "Yeah, totally believable." Also, I am the last assassin from a family of assassins?
The next thing that caught his attention made his stomach drop.
"Level 24?" he murmured, scanning the attributes. His spirit stat seemed decent, but his physical stat left much to be desired. And his skills... "Ten, Zetsu, Ren, Hatsu," he read aloud. "That's it? That's like saying I can ride a bike without training wheels. Oh, this is going to be fantastic."
The weight of the situation pressed down on him. He was a Conjurer, a Nen category known for its complexity and creativity, but that wouldn't mean much if he didn't have the skills to back it up. At level 24, he had some experience, but compared to the seasoned fighters he'd seen in Hunter x Hunter, he might as well have been a complete beginner.
"FUCK," Lucas cursed under his breath, gripping his hair in frustration. His mind raced with scenarios—what if he was attacked? What if someone sensed his weakness? What if he sneezed too loudly and summoned a boss-level enemy? The possibilities were endless and horrifying.
The elevator slowed to a halt, and Lucas froze. A soft ding announced its arrival, and the steel doors slid open to reveal a dimly lit corridor stretching into the distance. Hesitant, Lucas peeked out cautiously, his instincts screaming at him to stay hidden. The air felt heavy, almost oppressive, and his skin prickled with unease.
He stepped out, his movements slow and deliberate. "Okay, Lucas," he muttered to himself. "Step one: Don't die. Step two: Figure out what the hell is going on. Step three: Maybe don't say 'fuck' so much." He paused. "Nah, scratch that last one."
As he moved forward, the silence was deafening, broken only by the soft shuffle of his feet. Each step felt like a gamble, but Lucas knew he had to keep going. Somewhere out there were answers—about who he was, why he was here, and what he needed to do to survive. For now, caution would be his greatest weapon, closely followed by his sarcasm.