Damp air clung to the stone walls, carrying the sharp tang of rusted metal and old sweat.
Descending the spiraling stairs felt like dropping into the gullet of some massive, sleeping beast.
Hannah gripped her daggers tighter, her knuckles turning a stark, bloodless white as she scanned the dim subterranean chamber below.
Behind her, Nannah hummed a chaotic, off-key tune, skipping down the slippery steps with a wide, unsettling grin.
Riley walked between them, his posture perfectly straight, his expression a mask of absolute, unfeeling glass.
Nothing in this damp underworld registered as a threat to him.
Step by step, the shadows parted to reveal a massive, cavernous hall filled with hundreds of hopeful applicants.
Whispers rippled through the humid air as the crowd parted slightly to let the new arrivals pass.
Some men glared with predatory hunger, while others shrank back, already suffocated by the overwhelming tension in the room.
"Look at them," Hannah muttered, her voice barely a breath against the ambient noise. "They're like wolves waiting for a weak lamb."
"Wolves?" Nannah snickered, her fingers twitching near her pockets. "More like meat. Pretty, fragile meat just waiting to be ground up. I want to see how many of them pop if we squeeze them."
Riley ignored their chatter, his eyes scanning the crowd with a cold, systematic efficiency.
To his left, a muscular man with a massive axe sweated profusely, his heartbeat loud enough for Riley's heightened senses to register.
Weak, Riley noted.
Fear-scented sweat and an unstable center of gravity made the giant nothing more than a minor obstacle.
A few yards away, a group of three brothers dressed in matching dark outfits watched them with narrow, calculating eyes.
Amateurs, Riley deduced within a fraction of a second.
Their stances were too wide, their breathing too shallow, and they relied far too heavily on each other's physical presence to bolster their fragile confidence.
They would likely perish in the very first trials of the exam.
Further down the tunnel, the atmosphere shifted from mere anxiety to absolute dread.
A young boy with spiky black hair and a green jacket stood chatting with a tall man in a suit and a blonde youth.
They seemed completely out of place in this pit of killers, yet Riley's analytical eyes lingered on the boy.
There was an untamed, explosive potential sleeping within that small frame, a raw vitality that could either be cultivated or crushed.
Riley filed the boy's face away in his memory.
Useful, perhaps, but ultimately insignificant compared to the god-like entity he sought.
Deep in the crowd, however, Riley's gaze locked onto a few genuine anomalies.
A tall, bizarrely pale man covered in large round pins stood completely still, his eyes blank and vacant.
Beside him, a jester-like figure shuffled a deck of cards with mesmerizing speed, a faint, razor-sharp pressure radiating from his skin.
That pressure was Nen, the life energy Riley had only recently begun to understand.
It was a fascinating power, one that he fully intended to conquer.
Quietly, Hannah nudged his elbow. "Riley, we need to stay under the radar. Don't draw attention. We don't know what these people are capable of."
"I know exactly what they are capable of," Riley replied, his voice devoid of any warmth or concern. "Most of them are capable of dying. The rest are merely resources."
His thoughts drifted back to his father, King.
The memory of the betrayal was a cold weight in his chest, a constant reminder that absolute dominance was the only path to safety.
King had banished him to this multi-dimensional void, believing it would be his end.
But banishment was not a death sentence; it was an expansion of his empire.
If he could harvest the absolute wish-granting power of Nanika, he would return to his home universe not just as a survivor, but as a god.
Nannah suddenly elbowed a passing martial artist, her eyes wide with manic glee.
"Watch where you're going, fathead!" she shouted. "Or maybe I'll take those eyes out so you can see better with your ears!"
Growling, the man reached for his sword, but one glance at Riley's dead, empty stare made him freeze.
Sweat beaded on the warrior's forehead as he slowly backed away into the shadows.
"Stop provoking them, Nannah," Hannah hissed, pulling her chaotic counterpart back.
"Oh, you're so boring, sister dear," Nannah laughed, throwing her arms around Hannah's neck. "Isn't she boring, Riley? Tell her to let me have some fun!"
Riley didn't answer.
Dressed in a blue sweater with a prominent number plate, a short, stout man walked toward them with a friendly, disarming smile.
Yet, the subtle tension in his calves and the calculating glint in his small eyes betrayed his true nature.
"Well, hello there!" the short man chirped, stopping a few feet away. "You three look like fresh faces. First time taking the Hunter Exam?"
Hannah took a defensive step forward, her hand resting on the hilt of her blade.
"Ah, forgive my manners!" The man chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck in a practiced gesture of humility. "My name is Tonpa. I've taken this exam a few times myself, so I like to think of myself as a guide for rookies."
Riley observed him, noting the slight tremor in Tonpa's fingers and the way his eyes darted to their pockets.
Underneath that warm facade lay a bitter, twisted soul that thrived on crushing the dreams of newcomers.
Every twitch of Tonpa's lips was a calculated lie.
"A guide?" Hannah asked, her guard lowering slightly but her suspicion remaining. "And why would you help us for free?"
"Call it a hobby," Tonpa said, waving his hand dismissively. "We rookies have to stick together. In fact, to celebrate our meeting and wish you luck, let me offer you a drink."
Reaching into his bag, he produced three orange juice cans, handing them out with an eager, expectant grin.
"Orange juice," Tonpa continued, offering one directly to Riley. "To keep your energy up. The first phase can be incredibly draining, and you'll need all the sugar you can get."
Hannah reached out to take one, but Riley's hand shot out, catching her wrist in a grip of cold steel.
"Don't," Riley said softly.
Tonpa's smile stiffened for a fraction of a second, his eyes flashing with a brief spark of panic before he quickly recovered.
"I'll take them all," Riley said, his voice flat.
Before Tonpa or Hannah could react, Riley snatched all three cans from the short man's hands.
"Riley, wait!" Hannah whispered, her eyes wide with alarm. "You don't know what's in those!"
Ignoring her completely, Riley raised the first can to his lips and tilted his head back, chugging the sweet, orange liquid in a single, continuous motion.
Cold liquid slid down his throat, followed almost immediately by a sharp, chemical burning sensation.
It was a potent, fast-acting laxative mixed with a highly concentrated neurotoxin, designed to violently empty the bowels and paralyze the muscular system within minutes.
His throat spasmed, the lining of his esophagus blistering under the intense chemical heat.
Normal humans would have collapsed in agony, clawing at their throat as their lungs began to fail.
Tonpa's grin widened, a sadistic gleam appearing in his eyes as he waited for the inevitable collapse, the agonizing screams of another rookie broken before the starting line.
Inside Riley's body, however, the concept of death did not exist.
Absolute immortality was not just a shield; it was an active, aggressive force of adaptation.
White blood cells devoured the foreign chemical agents, analyzing their molecular structure in milliseconds.
Burning heat in his throat was met with a surge of rapid cellular regeneration, replacing damaged tissue with tougher, more resilient layers.
Warmth replaced the agonizing burn as his body completely neutralized the poison, converting the toxic compounds into harmless proteins and pure energy.
Riley finished the first can, crushed it in his bare hand with a metallic screech, and tossed it aside.
Without pausing, he popped the tab of the second can and drank that one down just as quickly.
Tonpa's jaw slackened, his eyes bulging as he watched the young man consume enough lethal poison to kill a herd of wild beasts without so much as blinking.
Breathing grew shallow, a cold sweat breaking out across Tonpa's forehead.
"How..." Tonpa stammered, stepping back, his legs suddenly shaking. "How are you... how are you doing that?"
Riley opened the third can, chugging it with the same robotic, terrifying calm.
Step by step, Riley closed the distance between them, his eyes dark, empty, and devoid of any human emotion.
Tonpa stumbled backward, his back hitting the cold, damp stone wall of the tunnel.
Running away was his only instinct, but his legs refused to move, paralyzed by a primal, instinctual terror.
Tonpa's eyes widen in sheer horror as Riley leans down and whispers, 'Give me more of this. My cells are still hungry.'