Chapter 1: Rainstorm × Crossing × The World

 

In 1997, an unexpected and violent storm swept through Raya Town.

The night was pitch-black and the winds were fierce. In this small town on the outskirts of the Mimbo Republic, every house was bolted shut as a hurricane rampaged through the streets.

It was deep in the night. The gale had snapped the power lines, plunging the entire town into darkness.

Charlotte Dai and her father, Ian Dai, were busy clearing the tables and chairs.

Bang!

The sound of the front door being forced open echoed through the room.

Ian reflexively looked toward the entrance, assuming it was the wind. Instead, he found a man lying on the floor, seemingly unconscious.

The man was covered in wounds, his clothes tattered and soaked with rainwater. He was tall with refined, handsome features and appeared to be in his early twenties.

Ian didn't have time to be shocked. He lunged forward, dragged the man inside, and shoved the door shut.

As someone who had served as a combat medic, Ian quickly examined the man’s wounds. "Charlotte! Get the hemostatic cloths and bandages!"

"Oh… right, on it!"

The young girl hurried into the back room of the restaurant and returned with a first-aid kit. The father and daughter worked feverishly over the stranger, a single kerosene lamp casting a dim, warm glow that held the darkness at bay.

…

The chirping of birds outside pulled Dia back to consciousness. He snapped his eyes open, greeted only by an unfamiliar ceiling.

Where is this? Why am I here?

With these questions swirling, Dia forced himself upright, sitting on the bed and calmly scanning his surroundings. The patterns and decor of the room felt utterly foreign, not traditional to England, Russia, or any country he had ever visited.

Did I cross over again?

He was no stranger to this phenomenon.

Months ago, fresh out of law school, he had fallen during a mountaineering trip. He hadn't perished; instead, he had crossed over into the world of JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure, where he was saved by a man named Jonathan Joestar.

Under the care and tutelage of Jonathan and Baron Zeppeli, he had recovered and learned the ancient Ripple (Hamon) breathing technique. Driven by gratitude, he joined Jonathan’s crusade against Dio.

In the ensuing battles, he transformed from a novice to a seasoned fighter in mere days. This was largely due to a unique ability he gained in that world: under extreme focus, the world slowed down before his eyes, what people often call "Bullet Time," or, as some might say, the "Exposition Time Stop."

Ultimately, Dia followed Jonathan to the top of the tower to eliminate Dio once and for all. Just as he was about to high-five Jonathan in triumph, he saw a golden, disembodied head of Dio fly out and strike his chest. Then, he saw only a massive, indescribable explosion that tore him and that shredded head to pieces.

Along with those memories came a second, fragmented set: the memories of his current body. They belonged to a young man named Dia Diego.

In these memories, the original owner looked nearly identical to him. He was born in the Mimbo Republic and had just graduated from the National Medical University. He had been a promising young man, but a sudden, extreme storm during his graduation trip had swept him off a boat and into the sea, where he died. For some reason, Dia had been reborn into his body.

Through those memories, Dia realized he had arrived in the world of Hunter x Hunter, a world filled with uncharted territories, magical beasts, and a mysterious supernatural power known as "Nen."

As the realization hit him, Dia still felt disoriented. His mind throbbed with the weight of the conflicting memories; he couldn't fully digest them all at once. But he knew one thing for certain: his original body was gone, and there was no returning to his previous world, nor to the world of JoJo.

It is what it is. I’ll just have to take it one step at a time.

As he pondered this, the door creaked open, and a bearded, middle-aged man stepped inside.

"You’re awake!?"

Dia looked at the man and deduced he must be his savior. He pushed through the headache and managed a smile. "Did you save me? I... I am Dia Diego."

"I am a graduate of the National Medical University. Thank you very much for saving me."

Hearing this, Ian relaxed slightly, amazed by the young man's startling recovery. Judging by the calm, articulate manner of the man calling himself Dia, he didn't seem to be a criminal or a fugitive, regardless of the truth behind his story.

"You collapsed in our shop yesterday. I patched you up." Ian paused, then added, "You should rest a bit more. I have some errands to run; we can talk more when I get back."

Because the storm had knocked out the power, Ian had to head to the police station to report the damages and apply for temporary power restoration. He also needed to register this uninvited guest with the authorities.

Ian handed him a glass of water from the bedside table, and Dia thanked him gratefully before the man hurried off.

Once left alone, Dia sipped the water, using the time to adapt to the lingering headache and the flood of new memories. Once the pain subsided, his expression turned serious.

To accelerate his recovery, he would attempt that ancient art, the Ripple!

"Hoo..."

As his chest rose and fell, he slipped into that peculiar breathing rhythm. The power of his blood flow surged, vibrating and gathering into a golden radiance.

The Ripple began to pulse through his veins, and he immediately felt his pain dull.

I should be back on my feet in two or three days, he thought with satisfaction. He ceased the technique and finished the water in one gulp.

He then instinctively leaned forward to set the cup down. However, the simple motion tugged at the wound on his waist.

Normally, the pain would have been tolerable, but because the numbing effect of the Ripple had just faded, combined with the carelessness induced by his weakness, the cup slipped from his fingers.

Damn it!

Dia lunged with his other hand, desperate to catch it, but his reach was just a fraction of a second too short.

Just as he thought he was going to fail, he froze.

The cup was hovering in mid-air.

Five clear, firm fingers were wrapped around the side of the glass. The hand belonged to a muscular, golden, humanoid figure covered in intricate cracks. The figure floated before him, its skin a pale, ash-grey, with two massive oxygen tanks strapped to its back. It wore a strange, restrictive mask, and beneath that mask, two scarlet eyes stared fixedly at Dia.

Dia’s pupils contracted, his heart hammering against his ribs in sheer shock.

He knew this "entity" all too well. It was the same powerful Stand obtained by the vampire Dio one hundred years later in the original timeline.

It was the stand, The World!

 

Chapter 2: Bad News × Temporary Stay

 

A Stand, that supernatural force also hailing from the world of JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure.

Generally appearing as humanoid figures or inanimate objects, they possess a vast array of unique abilities. Stand users utilize these manifestations to unleash powers ranging from the trivial to the cataclysmic. And the power of the terrifying Stand known as The World? It is the ability to stop time itself!

So, why would this Stand appear here?

Dia experimented, guiding The World closer until it dissolved into a phantom shimmer, merging with his own body and vanishing. The water glass, previously suspended in mid-air, settled firmly into Dia’s hand.

Is this... my Stand? Did it come over because of that head of Dio’s?

As the thought crossed his mind, a mental resonance confirmed the truth. Countless questions swirled in his heart, but Dia knew his current mental and physical state could not support further investigation into such a powerful ability. He forced himself to suppress his curiosity, set the glass aside, and returned to his Ripple breathing.

Meanwhile, Ian walked home, his heart heavy with worry, while Charlotte strode beside him, joyous now that temporary power had been restored.

During the past four hours, Ian’s old comrade, Sheriff James, had broken two pieces of news to him.

First, the seaside hospital had been battered by the tsunami triggered by last night's storm. There were no beds available in the morgue, let alone a ward, for the mysterious man with no identity. However, someone had recovered a suitcase nearby containing a wealth of medical texts, clothing, and identification documents. After verifying the contents, Ian was certain it belonged to the man. The sheriff had even contacted the captain of the ship listed on the transit tickets found inside, confirming that a passenger named Diego had indeed fallen overboard. The captain had been on the verge of reporting it to the police.

With his identity confirmed, Ian sighed with relief. Since the hospital was full, he would simply let the man stay at his home. Raya Town was small, and its people were known for their simple, honest nature; in a community of acquaintances, no one was stingy about helping a neighbor.

The second piece of news, however, left Ian deeply unsettled. He recalled his conversation with James:

"Around 7:00 this morning, the Shold City Police Department sent out an alert. A D-class murderer broke out of custody last night, killing three armed officers and a specialist from the Hunter Association."

James lit a cigarette and continued. "The word from the city is that there’s a possibility he fled in our direction. They’ve told us to stay on alert."

"What? They aren’t sending anyone to search?" Ian frowned. A criminal who could slaughter three armed police officers and a Hunter Association expert, and the city police weren’t going to intervene?

"Right. Because it’s not 100% certain he’s headed this way. The storm washed away all the tracks, and besides..." James took a deep drag, leaning in. Clearly, the next part was giving him a massive headache. "Someone in Shold City reported seeing traces of a member of the A-class criminal organization, the Phantom Troupe, last night. Almost all the police force has been deployed to track them. Don't go spreading this around; it’ll only cause panic."

Ian fell silent. As a former combat medic, he was well aware of the infamous Phantom Troupe.

Raya Town was bordered by the vast, endless ocean to the south, and forty kilometers up the highway to the north lay Shold City. If the Phantom Troupe was on the move, they could reach Raya Town in a flash, and no one here could stop killers of that caliber. 

It was possible he was just worrying over nothing, but when lives were on the line, who could afford to gamble?

Back home, Ian went straight to his room. When Dia heard the door, he stopped his Ripple breathing. Ian entered, holding a suitcase.

"Someone found a suitcase nearby. It has your documents, clothes, and some money. This belongs to you, right?"

From his inherited memories, Dia knew he did indeed possess a suitcase. He had assumed it was lost at sea and was surprised it had been recovered. He thanked Ian repeatedly as he took the case.

Checking the contents, he pulled out some of the currency used in the Hunter world, Jenny, and said, "I cannot repay you enough for saving my life. Please, take this."

Dia was someone who valued gratitude. After all, it was that very sense of duty that led him to join Jonathan in the fight against Dio despite the danger. He would never be stingy toward the man who had saved him now.

Ian didn't refuse, though he hesitated before accepting. "It was just a small favor. But there was an accident at the town hospital, so you may need to continue staying here to recover. Let’s consider this your room and board. And you can call me Ian-jisan, or just Ian."

Dia had no objections. Hospitals were full of surveillance, and the light and electrical discharge of his Ripple training would be impossible to hide. Living at Ian’s place would save him a lot of trouble.

Suddenly, the door creaked open again. A cute girl poked her round head inside. She peeked at Dia with a side-glance before calling out loudly, "Dad! The ingredients are ready. It’s your turn to cook today! Go, go!"

Ian rubbed his temples at his daughter’s lack of decorum. He had raised her alone, but he had never neglected her education. He didn't know how she had turned into such a chatterbox; she was nothing like her mother.

"This is my daughter, Charlotte," Ian sighed, introducing her to Dia. "Her mother passed away a long time ago. She seems a bit unruly, but she’s actually a very good girl." He turned to Charlotte. "You stay here and look after our guest. I’ll call you when the food is ready. And remember your manners!"

Dia wanted to say that he might recover faster if left alone, but he kept it to himself. After promising to behave, Charlotte waited until Ian left, then immediately shut the door and pounced on the bedside, peppering Dia with questions.

"Can I call you Dia-niichan? Are you really a student at the National Medical University? I heard you have to be super smart or super rich to get in! Dad said you fell off a ship. How on earth did you end up in our town? And, and..."

Facing the barrage of questions, Dia understood why Ian had specifically asked her to mind her manners. Despite the relentless pace, Dia answered them one by one with patience, taking the opportunity to ask a few questions about Raya Town in return.

Between his own experience and the memories of the original owner, Dia felt he had lived three lifetimes. Conversing with an innocent girl was well within his capabilities, and despite it being their first meeting, they got along quite well.

From their chat, Dia learned that while Raya Town was coastal, it lacked a port, making it a remote, quiet place. The townspeople weren't wealthy, but they were content. Charlotte hadn't tested into university and now helped her father run the restaurant; there were almost no young people her age in the town.

However, the mention of the wanted criminal made Dia’s brows knit together.

To be able to kill armed police and a Hunter Association expert during a containment? That person is very likely a Nen user.

Even if the criminal wasn't necessarily coming to Raya Town, a sense of unease rose in Dia’s heart, causing the Ripple within him to fluctuate. Compared to others, the Ripple technique he knew lacked some of the combat versatility, but it possessed one unique advantage: a perception of the future. Ever since he had learned the Ripple, he had been gifted with a faint premonition before danger arrived, a phenomenon he called "Ripple Intuition."

I’m afraid it’s going to be a case of 'speak of the devil.' This is trouble. If I have to face a Nen user, the best option would definitely be to learn Nen myself...

But without a teacher, the time required to awaken Nen on his own was far too long. For now, his only path was to train the Ripple to its absolute limit.

Thinking this, he feigned exhaustion. Charlotte immediately noticed the fatigue on his face and realized he was still a wounded patient. She hurriedly made him lie down and even tucked the quilt around him before leaving the room with small, light steps.

Once the girl was gone, Dia closed his eyes and focused.

A moment later…

"Hoo..."

Dia slipped back into the rhythm of the Ripple breathing. He had to use every available second to restore his body and prepare for the crisis that might be coming his way.

 

 

Chapter 3: Hunter × Hebra

 

"Hey, Dia! Over here! My egg-fried rice!"

It was another rainy day. Inside the bustling Ian’s Diner, a middle-aged man shouted at the top of his lungs.

A tall young man carrying a bowl of egg-fried rice chuckled, offered a warm greeting, and set the bowl down in front of the patron. The man reached out carelessly, eager to strike up a bit of idle conversation.

BOOM!

A deafening crack of thunder shook the diner. The man jumped in fright, his hand slipped, and the bowl plummeted toward the floor.

Before he could even react, the scene in front of him flickered. The bowl, which should have been shattering against the floorboards, was suddenly sitting perfectly steady on the table. Meanwhile, Dia, who had been serving tables, was already turning away toward another customer.

The man’s hand hovered in mid-air, blinking in confusion, unable to process what had just happened.

Out of everyone’s sight, a golden phantom faded away into Dia’s back.

He had done it. Dia had activated his Stand, The World, and paused time.

Dia kept his expression calm while he mentally calculated the duration of the stop. Roughly 0.5 seconds. No change from yesterday. The cooldown is still one minute, and...

He focused his intent, and The World materialized out of thin air. Its golden physique was still covered in a dense web of cracks. Compared to how it looked just a few days ago, when Dia was bedridden and near death, it was already in much better shape.

If it were at its peak, it would have 'A' in Strength and Speed. Right now? Maybe a 'C' in Strength and a 'B' in Speed.

It’s not even as strong as I am physically. The speed is decent, but if I’m going into a fight, I’m better off using my own fists. After all, The World can’t use the Ripple to heal itself.

Dia could sense that the Stand’s self-repair process would require a significant amount of time without external stimulation. Furthermore, he felt a vague, discordant resistance whenever he used the time-stop, as if the ability wouldn't fully obey him. It had nothing to do with the Stand itself, but rather something deep within his own soul.

He suspected it stemmed from the personality clash between him and the Stand's original master, DIO. If he wasn't willing to warp his own nature to match DIO's, he would have to endure the long, tedious process of "polishing" the Stand until it truly belonged to him.

As things stood, relying on the Stand for direct combat was a lackluster strategy. Its offense and defense were both inferior to his own body, and it couldn't benefit from his Ripple-assisted recovery. And while a non-Stand user couldn't strike a Stand, Nen was a manifestation of spirit and will. Who knew if a master's aura could land a blow? And if his Stand took damage, Dia, as the user, would suffer the same injury. If he played it reckless and someone smashed his Stand's leg, his own leg would snap right along with it.

Still, the Ripple breathing was proving to be a miracle. In just a few days, it had brought his body from the brink of death to near-perfect health. Ian found his recovery nothing short of supernatural, and Charlotte, currently in a phase of teenage wonder, kept pestering him to tell her stories about his past, convinced he had some kind of secret ability.

In truth, Dia could have left at any time. The night he woke up, he had thoroughly sorted through the original owner’s memories. Two facts stood out: first, Diego, like him, had been an orphan from a young age. He had only made it to the National Medical University through student loans and scholarships, meaning he was facing a dire financial situation.

Second, his mentor at the university was none other than... Cheadle Yorkshire.

An executive of the Hunter Association, one of the Zodiacs (the 'Dog'), and a Triple-Star Disease Hunter. In his memories, she had been incredibly supportive, often helping him plan his future. As a master of Nen, she was the best possible lead for Dia to learn the power system he so desperately needed.

But in the days since he recovered, every letter and phone call he tried to send remained unanswered. By all logic, he should have rushed back to the university immediately.

But...

Dia glanced toward the kitchen. Charlotte hurriedly looked away, pretending to be busy chopping radishes. Ian was just emerging with a dish, calling out for Dia to deliver it to a customer.

"Coming!" Dia grabbed the plate.

The care Ian and his daughter had shown him these past few days reminded him of the time he had been saved by Jonathan Joestar. He knew that if he walked away now, he would be fine, as a bright future awaited him. But what about Ian and Charlotte? Could the local police, completely ignorant of Nen, really keep them safe?

Dia didn't consider himself a saint who jumped at the chance to fight evil, but he refused to let those who saved him be slaughtered. He felt the Ripple surging within him, a sense of danger, closer and more suffocating than ever.

He looked through the window at the driving rain.

This weather is perfect for a serial killer.

He couldn't wait any longer. After a long moment of contemplation, a decision solidified in his mind.

…

The night was as dark as ink, and the rain showed no signs of letting up, washing over the streets in sheets.

A manhole cover at the end of the street was pushed aside, silent as a whisper. A disheveled, ragged figure poked his head out, scanning the surroundings with extreme caution. Finding the coast clear, he leaped out with the agility of a black wolf, vanishing into the curtain of rain.

Hebra, 31, was a former star baseball player. At 25, he had been wanted for murder and resisting arrest after a drunken rampage. He had lived on the run ever since, until a few days ago, when he’d been tracked by a Hunter Association bounty hunter.

Just remembering that Hunter made his chest ache, and his teeth ground together in fury. That brat... just a rookie who got lucky and became a Hunter, yet he forced me to my knees!

The Hunter had looked barely an adult, but his punches were terrifyingly heavy. When they traded blows, Hebra’s Nen-infused fists had crumbled instantly, and he’d been beaten senseless. If he hadn't used Nen to protect his vitals, he would have been killed right there.

But a dark, twisted grin spread across Hebra’s face. So what if he had talent? He still died by my 'Magic Ball'!

Hebra had survived six years on the run thanks to the Nen ability he’d learned at Meteor City, bought in a desperate trade with an old man for a stolen treasure. The old man died shortly after teaching him the basics of opening his aura nodes and Ten. He had spent the following years piecing together the technique for his "Magic Ball" from the scraps of the old man's teachings.

He had dodged crisis after crisis, eventually even smuggling himself out of the Yorbian Continent on an airship. But then that Hunter had appeared, and in the face of a true, systematic Nen user, his own abilities had felt soft and pathetic, utterly defenseless.

Hebra crouched low, sprinting through the rain. A thin layer of white Nen coated his skin. His green pupils darted through the night, predatory and alert. He hadn't seen any police or Hunters pursuing him for the last few days, but his innate caution had kept him hiding in the sewers, surviving on rats for forty-eight hours.

Now, his strength had recovered, but his wounds were festering from a lack of medicine. Unable to stand another night of eating raw vermin, he decided to find a diner, raid it for supplies and medicine, and kill every witness. Then, shielded by the storm, he would vanish into another city.

He remembered seeing a place called "Ian’s Diner" not far from where he had first arrived. That would be the target.

Suddenly, Hebra froze. His heart skipped a beat, and he dove into a side alley.

Was that... a person?

He peered out. A tall figure in a raincoat was walking slowly down the street, as if searching for something.

Is he a Pro Hunter?

Hebra focused his Nen into his eyes, but saw absolutely no aura shielding the man. He looked like an ordinary human. But who would be wandering the streets in this weather if they were normal?

As the figure closed the distance, Hebra hesitated. Should he strike first? Or was this a trap? 

Do I run? If he hadn't spotted me, running would just give away my position!

Just as Hebra wavered, the figure stopped dead. Without a second of warning, he spun around and lunged toward the alley like a bullet.

Hebra’s pupils dilated!

Golden electricity sparked into existence, accompanied by a fist that illuminated the face beneath the raincoat. It was Dia!

 

 

Chapter 4: Magic Ball × A Heavy Blow

 

There was no time to think. Instinct took over, and Hebra released his aura, flooding the narrow alley with a violent, suffocating killing intent.

This was his signature tactic. Until that Hunter appeared, even experienced warriors and martial artists had buckled under the weight of his aura, rendered completely helpless by the sheer terror of his intent.

What?

Dia, still in mid-air, felt his body stiffen as the killing intent washed over him, but the vibrant, pulsating energy of his Ripple cut through the paralysis.

Even so, that split-second of hesitation was all Hebra needed.

Hebra’s right arm coiled like a spring, but instead of striking at Dia, he slammed his fist into the nearby wall!

BOOM!

A crater erupted in the brickwork, spiderweb cracks webbing outward. The recoil acted like a cannon, launching Hebra backward. He managed to evade Dia’s follow-up strike, leaving the Ripple-infused punch to hit nothing but empty air.

Hebra rolled across the wet ground, dispersing the momentum, and immediately scrambled to his feet to face his enemy. He took the chance to study the attacker: a tall young man, barely into his twenties. He still couldn't detect a single shred of aura being released.

But what about that golden electricity? Can Nen manifest as different types of energy?

Dia, realizing his ambush had failed, didn't press the attack. He had neglected a critical reality of fighting a Nen user: Ren-induced intimidation. Facing the combined killing intent and aura of a practitioner, even a veteran warrior could be frozen solid by primal fear. Had his Ripple not acted as a buffer, he would have been in grave danger from the first exchange.

It was a cold wake-up call. Even with his knowledge of the source material, forgetting the finer details was a massive handicap.

A Nen user. He didn't manifest a weapon, and he hasn't fired any Nen blasts yet. Is he a Transmuter or a Manipulator?

Dia tightened his guard. He hadn't used his time-stop during the initial ambush for fear of an unknown counter-ability, but it seemed the enemy didn't have one.

"Hey, you're not a Hunter, are you? Is it really worth risking your life for that pittance of a bounty?"

Hebra, uncomfortable with the standoff, spoke first, his hand subtly drifting toward his waist.

Dia remained silent. Speaking would disrupt his breathing, and the Ripple required a steady rhythm. If he lost the protection of the Ripple, he would be instantly crushed by the other man's killing intent.

From the brief clash, it was clear: compared to the descriptions in the world he knew, this enemy’s Nen control was crude. He also caught Hebra’s movement toward his waist. He was hiding a weapon.

I can't let him draw it!

Dia lunged. If the man was an Enhancer, he would be even more dangerous with a weapon in hand.

Hebra saw the move and abandoned the pretense, whipping an object from his belt: a baseball. During his years on the run, he had dreamed of the days he was a star pitcher, and when he woke up, he found the ball, his Magic Ball, clutched in his hand.

Hebra lowered his head, focusing his energy. He whipped his body into a coil, his right arm winding back behind his head like a steel whip, and unleashed the pitch.

Purple aura swathed the ball, turning it into a venomous viper that hissed through the air toward Dia. Hebra followed through, kicking off the ground to put distance between them.

Dia kept his eyes locked on Hebra, ignoring the incoming projectile. He charged forward.

Time, stop!

The World!!

The world in Dia's vision abruptly halted, turning monochrome. Millions of raindrops hung suspended in the air, forming a cold, suffocating shroud of ice. The baseball froze in its path.

A projectile weapon? Is he an Emitter?

His golden Stand appeared out of thin air and casually swatted the frozen ball aside with a single punch. Dia pushed forward with everything he had; the diverted ball didn't slow his momentum by a fraction.

Outside of the time-stop, Hebra saw Dia rushing headlong into the attack without a hint of fear. A single thought crossed his mind: At this range, with my pitch speed and the power of the Magic Ball, he’s a dead man! I’ve won!

But before the grin could fully form on Hebra’s face, a figure materialized to his left. His expression froze.

Dia’s face was inches away, his eyes cold as ice. Hebra’s pupils shrank to pinpricks.

What? How did he get here? Where’s my ball?

Dia didn't give him a moment to breathe. He pivoted his waist and hips, gathering every ounce of the Ripple into his left fist. He unleashed the strike with absolute conviction.

Sunlight Yellow Overdrive!

The most powerful punch in his arsenal tore through the air, smashing directly into Hebra’s midsection.

Hebra barely managed to cross his left arm to block.

THUD!

It felt as if he had been struck by a falling anvil. Hebra doubled over, his body curling like a boiled shrimp as the force lifted him off the ground. A scream died in his throat, choked off by agonizing, visceral pain.

Dia dropped his shoulder, his right arm coiling like a storm, shattering the suspended raindrops. He launched a savage uppercut, aiming to finish the airborne, helpless criminal.

Finish him while he's down!

Sensing his own death, Hebra’s adrenaline surged, his brain screaming into the void:

"Magic Ball, get back here!!!"

The baseball, which had been swatted away, suddenly struck an invisible wall. It accelerated with impossible speed, rocketing back toward Dia’s back.

Dia hadn't expected the ball to return, and certainly not at a speed greater than its original throw. The ball tore through the rain, grazing Dia’s knuckles and forcing his finishing blow to strike empty air.

Wrong! He isn't an Emitter!

Dia realized his assessment was flawed. The enemy’s failure to manifest a weapon at the start had misled him. The act of throwing a projectile had looked like Emission, but to make a ball move with that kind of trajectory required a level of mastery that someone with Hebra’s physical stats shouldn't possess.

There were only two explanations: either he was a Conjurer, and the baseball was a unique object with special properties, or he was a Manipulator, controlling a mundane object.

Dia leaned toward the former. If he were a Manipulator, why not use a steel ball or something more lethal? A baseball was specific. He must have conjured it, letting people mistake it for the real thing. It was a weapon with a special ability. When the enemy dodged the throw and let their guard down, he would use his Nen to control the ball's trajectory and strike from behind.

Kurapika used similar tactics in the manga... I didn't think I'd run into a back-alley criminal with that kind of tactical mind.

Dia regained his balance, his feet skidding on the wet pavement. He knew the best chance for a clean kill had passed. The ball had only grazed his knuckles, causing no real damage, but he forced himself to recover.

Even so, he thought, watching the cowering Hebra, after a direct hit from that punch, even a Nen user shouldn't be standing.

 

 

Chapter 5: Defeat × Farewell

 

Hebra, sent flying like a baseball, crashed into the ground and propped himself up with his right hand, vomiting a massive mouthful of blood. His left ribs and left arm were all but shattered... He felt as though his internal organs had been violently displaced. Had that second blow landed, his heart would have exploded on the spot.

Battered to the brink of death by a single exchange, Hebra had no thoughts of retaliation. His fighting spirit, crushed in an instant, had evaporated.

The terrifying ability to stop time had, without question, dealt a devastating blow to Hebra.

This guy... he’s too strong... I can’t beat him!

The kid before him, lacking even a trace of aura, was a monster he had never encountered before, stronger even than the Hunter he had snuck up on and killed with his Magic Ball. That overwhelming power, combined with that bizarre, instantaneous movement, if he stayed, he was a dead man!

Recalling that cold gaze, which felt like that of a man-eating tiger, Hebra made an immediate decision: Run.

Running at the first sign of trouble was the only reason he had managed to evade capture for so many years.

"Magic Ball! Hold him off for me!"

Hebra roared internally. As long as his ability could entangle Dia for three minutes... no, even one minute would do! Glancing at the manhole cover in the distance, Hebra gritted his teeth and hauled himself up with his remaining hand. That spot... as long as I can reach that spot!!

From the corner of his eye, Dia saw Hebra limping away and instantly realized his intent to escape.

Whirr!

The Magic Ball, gleaming with violet Nen invisible to Dia, sliced through the air, rotating and emitting a shrill, piercing scream as it smashed toward him once more. It was faster and more powerful than before; the ball seemed to gain momentum and force with every rebound.

Damn it. I can't chase him while fending this thing off. I have to destroy it!

Dia knew that if he wanted to kill the fugitive before he disappeared into the sewers, he had to neutralize this dangerous ball. He coolly calculated the cooldown and distance, concentrating the crimson Ripple into his left hand. He parried the ball’s strikes, sometimes dodging, sometimes blocking with his hands. It was agonizing, but the injuries were manageable.

The cooldown is down to a few seconds. Just hold on.

Now! The World!

The world in Dia's vision shifted to greyscale. The Magic Ball froze in mid-air.

He only had half a second. Without hesitation, Dia reached out with his left hand and gripped the ball.

Scarlet Overdrive!

An intense, concentrated heat erupted from Dia’s palm. The leather ball ignited instantly, its surface incinerating in the blink of an eye.

Dia didn't waste a single motion. He bent his knees, and the next moment…

BOOM!

His entire body, coiled like a spring compressed to its limit, erupted. He transformed into a blur of motion, the concrete beneath his feet shattering into dust.

Outside of the time-stop.

Hebra had covered significant ground. Seeing the manhole cover within arm's reach, he was overcome with frantic joy. I made it! I’m alive! Once I heal up, I’ll come back and kill everyone…

Thud!

A fist wreathed in golden electricity suddenly emerged from an impossible distance, striking his head from behind and shattering his skull into fragments.

He... he took care of my Magic Ball? In less than a minute? How did he do it?

Questions flooded Hebra’s mind, but he would never know the answer.

Splat.

A corpse with a crushed head slumped to the ground. Behind it stood Dia, slowly retracting his fist.

The dark night rain continued to pour, washing over the enemy's corpse. Looking at the lifeless body, Dia finally let out a breath of relief, his chest heaving. His hands, which had fended off the repetitive strikes of the ball, were still trembling.

For that final, decisive blow, he had used a secret technique taught to him by Baron Zeppeli, the "Zoom Punch." By dislocating and extending his joints, he had temporarily increased the reach of his arm, striking the enemy from behind just before he could slip into the sewers.

Dia’s state of mind soon leveled out. He straightened his posture and tilted his head, letting the downpour wash the blood from his clothes.

The victory had undoubtedly involved a stroke of luck. The opponent clearly wasn't a master of Nen; while he possessed some battle instinct and street-fighting cunning, he had lost his nerve completely when faced with an ability as unfathomable as time-stop.

Had Hebra chosen to fight rather than run when he was first sent flying, or had he possessed the skill to convert his Ten into the sturdier Ken, the first punch might not have been so decisive. And had he attacked during those moments when Dia was momentarily frozen, the outcome might have been very different.

In the end, the Ripple was simply inferior to Nen in terms of raw lethality. There were countless monsters in the world of Hunter x Hunter far stronger than this man. Relying solely on the Ripple, he would likely struggle to even break the defenses of a true Nen master in the future.

If I want to find my footing in this world, I have to learn Nen as soon as possible.

It’s time to leave.

As the rain subsided, Dia dumped the gruesome corpse into the sewer, discarded his damaged raincoat, and vanished into the night.

…

A few days later.

The noon sun baked the travelers relentlessly. A long-distance bus sat idling in front of the small diner, shimmering under the harsh glare of the heat.

Dia was saying his goodbyes to Ian and Charlotte. Before leaving Raya Town, he had visited the police station privately, identified Hebra’s corpse, and claimed the substantial bounty. To avoid unnecessary scrutiny, he made a deal with Sheriff James: the credit went to the law, the money went to Dia.

Charlotte, eyes red and brimming with tears, was shouting at Dia to visit them often. Ian stood by silently, helping load his luggage onto the bus.

"Alright, the bus is leaving. Get on," Ian said, his voice steady as he rested a heavy hand on Charlotte’s head to stop her from acting out.

"Yeah. Take care of yourself, Uncle Ian. And Charlotte, try to keep up with the news, alright?"

"Fineee... and take this, Dia-niichan," Charlotte dragged out the word, dejectedly reaching into a bag and pulling out a bulging white plastic bag filled with steamed buns. "They’re fresh... still hot."

Dia smiled, took the bag, and boarded the bus, waving his hand for them to go back inside.

As he settled into a window seat, the bus jolted forward, the engine emitting a low growl. The scenery outside began to slide backward. Through the glass, Dia watched that old, familiar diner shrink into the distance. A small figure remained stubbornly rooted to the spot, waving her hand continuously until the bus became a tiny black dot, vanishing from sight.

Witnessing this, Dia suddenly felt a sharper, more genuine connection to this world. It was as if an NPC from a comic book had suddenly stepped out into the real world, imbued with flesh, blood, and a soul.