On the distant continent of Eulubian lay a place abandoned by the world.
A place everyone preferred to forget.
People called it Meteor Street, a dumping ground for everything discarded, broken, and unwanted. And because of that, no matter what happened here, the world would never turn its eyes in this direction. It was a place where tragedies vanished into silence. It was also the place where an outsider who should never have belonged to this world mysteriously appeared.
"Finally... I think I get it now."
In the middle of mountains of trash stood clusters of collapsed and crooked shelters. One of them, half buried beneath debris, held a small, cramped room barely fit for living. Inside, a young boy with a youthful face let out a long sigh.
"Full-Time Hunter... Eulubian Continent... Meteor Street..."
Moger lowered his gaze to his own palms. Wisps of life energy drifted from his skin like pale fog. His voice trembled with a mix of awe and bewilderment.
"And this is Nen."
He never imagined that his quiet life in a modest eighth-floor apartment would end like this. One moment he had been tinkering with little invention ideas, broadcasting live to a small but enthusiastic online audience, and the next he had watched, horrified, as a runaway bus smashed through his wall and barreled directly toward him.
When he opened his eyes again, he was in this world.
The world of Hunters.
A world filled with dangers beyond imagination.
"Sure, I know a lot about this world, and they even made me young again... but that doesn't mean I wanted to come here!"
A vein pulsed on his forehead. The frustration in his chest was almost enough to explode.
He had grown up alone, no burdens, no complicated ties. His inventions, simple yet creative, had attracted followers online. Through streaming and short videos, he earned enough to buy a small apartment. Life had finally begun to stabilize, become comfortable... peaceful.
Who would have thought he would wake up in a different universe?
"But at least I awakened Nen right after arriving... and I think something about it was even strengthened."
He could complain, but there was nothing he could do.
He was already here.
Moger exhaled and let his consciousness sink into the core of his ability.
Nen Ability: Inventor Master.
Description: He can create items from infinite worlds, but only through the requests and commissions of others.
Ability Effects:
One, "A true master carries the heart of a student."
Two, "Invention has no limits, but the inventor does."
A true master carries the heart of a student:
Humans cannot imagine what they have never seen. Every invention builds upon the foundation left by those who came before. Everything Moger creates originates from inventors of infinite worlds, combining their strengths and experiences.
Invention has no limits, but the inventor does:
The items Moger invents depend on the requester's alignment and the intended purpose, drawing from different worlds' inventors depending on the moral nature of the request.
"So basically, I need someone to make a request before I can invent anything."
This part made sense to him. After all, invention and creation were born from the desire to help people and improve life. Even his old livestream inventions had always come from audience requests. Someone asked and he built.
Granting wishes.
Not a bad way to put it.
The first effect was especially valuable. Everything he produced would come from the imagination and craftsmanship of countless geniuses from infinite universes.
"Good. Anything is better than relying on my mediocre ideas."
He was well aware of his own limits. He loved inventing, but he was a hobbyist at best. He could make neat little gadgets, nothing more. Instruments with strange functions, tools that bordered on magical... he had no confidence recreating such things alone.
That was the domain of geniuses from other worlds.
He was happy letting them do the heavy lifting.
The second effect resonated with him even more. Alignment mattered. Purposes mattered. Tools themselves were neither good nor evil. What mattered was who used them.
A kitchen knife could prepare food.
Or take a life.
And here in Meteor Street, the lines blurred even further. Good and evil were luxuries people here couldn't afford.
"So I guess the purpose and intention are the main deciding factors."
Moger nodded to himself. It was like that scene from One Piece where Gin, a so-called villain, begged only for food. Evil or not, hunger was just hunger.
"In this place, food is everything."
His stomach grumbled at the thought.
He rubbed his brow.
He had been trapped indoors for two whole days, gathering information and confirming his surroundings. This was indeed Meteor Street. The house he now occupied once belonged to a man who lived atop this mountain of garbage. Two days ago, that man had gone rummaging through trash, encountered some misfortune, and never returned.
Which meant Moger, who had appeared here after the accident, slipped right into his place without disrupting anything.
Along with his ability, he had gained fluent Hunter-language and this small house. A strange starter pack for someone dragged into this world.
But Meteor Street was brutal. A house meant nothing without food.
"Whatever scraps the previous owner left behind are already gone. I need to restock somehow."
His empty stomach twisted again, reminding him painfully of his situation.
This was ridiculous.
He had transmigrated, gained a cheat-like power... and he was starving.
He briefly considered going out to fight for food like the other tough and desperate residents of Meteor Street, but he instantly rejected the idea.
He was weak. A kid. Untrained.
Yes, he had Nen, but barely.
And Meteor Street hid monsters.
People who survived through violence, cruelty, and unimaginable strength.
One wrong encounter and he would die before inventing anything.
Better to avoid conflict altogether.
Besides, he was an inventor. Solving problems with creativity was his path forward. Not brawling.
He glanced around the barren room.
There wasn't much left here except shadows and dust.
And then his gaze landed on something unexpected.
A torn, faded calendar crookedly stuck to the wall.
He blinked.
"What... what year did I even end up in?"
The absurdity of it all washed over him again, mixing fear, uncertainty, and the faintest spark of anticipation.
He was in the world of Hunters.
He had a power connected to infinite worlds.
He was alone, hungry, and at the very bottom of society.
But he was alive.
And he had the heart of an inventor.
Whatever came next, he would create his own path.