HunterxHunter: I Became Stronger After Death

The location, a tomb repurposed into a facility, served as the Menu Organization's virus research base.

This choice of location had nothing to do with personal taste or secrecy.

The reason was that the viruses being studied in the facility originated from the tomb itself, an ancient and untraceable relic.

More specifically, they were extracted from the corpse inside the sarcophagus.

The man in the black suit observed the screen showing Sambika, focused on mixing a potion, before shifting his gaze to the central monitor.

The screen displayed the interior of the sarcophagus.

A bright green, pristine cloth lined the bottom of the coffin, atop which lay an unusual-looking mummified corpse.

The left side of the corpse's body had undergone extensive natural dehydration, its skin and muscles shriveled and dark brown, characteristic of long-term desiccation.

The right side, however, was entirely different.

In fact, it could hardly be called "mummified."

The right half of the body retained intact muscle tissue with visible veins, as if untouched by time. However, this muscle tissue appeared elderly, with skin resembling dried, withered tree bark.

One side was a desiccated husk; the other, a decayed, veined remnant of life.

It looked as though two completely different bodies had been stitched together.

The man in the black suit stared at the screen, his eyes glowing faintly as nen energy, resembling flames, flickered around them.

Using Gyo, he could see tendrils of black smoke-like energy wafting between the corpse and the cloth, slowly drifting toward the edge of the sarcophagus.

The researchers around him were oblivious to the black energy emanating from the sarcophagus.

Yet, the viruses extracted from the corpse captivated their attention.

Some phenomena defy scientific explanation but unmistakably force their way into human understanding.

The man glanced briefly at the researchers before turning to leave.

"How's the progress?" he asked a subordinate who followed closely behind.

The subordinate quickly replied, "We haven't overcome the issue of OG's transmissibility yet, but we're making headway. However, the cocoon lab is running low on 'test subjects.' The pharmacist has been urging us to replenish the supply immediately."

"How many does he need?" the man asked as he entered a corridor to the right.

"He didn't specify, only said the more, the better."

"Tch, the audacity."

The man in the black suit frowned and said coldly, "Does he not know how much it costs to dissect one piglet? Last time, he demanded twenty subjects—fine—but then insisted on matching blood types. Because of that nonsense, we almost ran out of blood bags to meet the demand."

The subordinate lowered his head, saying nothing.

The man sneered, his frustration evident, but recognizing the priority of the matter, he suppressed his complaints.

"Submit a requisition and include the justification. If the boss deems this important enough, he'll divert resources from the 'Dining Table.'"

"Yes, sir."

The subordinate left to handle the matter, while the man in the black suit entered another chamber within the tomb.

Calling it a "tomb" was no longer accurate.

The original burial items and even the contents of the niches along the walls had been completely cleared out.

They were replaced with pipes, light fixtures, and rows of glass containers filled with a pale green liquid.

Suspended within the liquid were various human organs and tissues.

Nightfall

In Shanni Village, inside a dilapidated house made of mud bricks, the furnishings were sparse—just a bed and a table.

On a bed by the wall lay a boy around eight or nine years old.

The boy's face was pale, his eyes closed, and his breathing rapid. His small chest rose and fell erratically.

Patches of his exposed skin were shriveled and darkened, resembling old, lifeless flesh stitched onto his body.

Beside the bed stood an older boy, his face filled with worry as he looked at the younger child.

However, the right side of the older boy's face and two of his fingers also appeared lifeless—withered and darkened, as if drained of vitality.

Across the room, Sambika placed the herbs she had gathered into a mortar. Instead of grinding them immediately, she extended her right hand over the mortar.

Drip… Drip…

Blood seeped from Sambika's palm, breaking through her skin and dripping onto the herbs.

A few seconds later, the wound on her palm healed on its own.

Sambika retracted her hand and watched as the faintly glowing blood was absorbed into the herbs at a visible rate.

Her blood had unique properties: it enhanced the efficacy of the herbs and neutralized toxins.

This gave her an unparalleled advantage in creating medicines.

Thump, thump.

She picked up the pestle and began grinding the herbs into a paste.

"This will only temporarily slow the virus's replication. It's not enough… Rieta can't hold on much longer," Sambika thought as she worked.

If time ran out, she would have no choice but to risk using her nen ability.

Outside the Mud-Brick House

Moro leaned against the outer wall, his expression tinged with curiosity.

Is she just careless, or too focused to notice?

He had followed her from the forest to this point, concerned his Zetsu technique might not be proficient enough to avoid detection.

But she seemed so preoccupied that she never noticed him.

Even inside this small house, her alertness didn't improve.

Moro wondered if he could even activate Ten without being detected.

She feels so weak…

Having never seen her use Ren, Moro couldn't gauge her level precisely.

But based on the precision of her Ten, her fundamentals seemed solid.

She's probably a non-combatant.

Not all nen users focused on combat. Even among the Hunter Association's Zodiacs, there were non-combatant members like Kite.

Still, this was the first time Moro had encountered a nen user who seemed so weak at first glance.

Pritt Town

Night fell, and various parts of the town were brightly lit.

Places like bars and casinos bustled with life, filled with the sound of laughter and chatter.

This town, a constant source of wealth like a gold mine, naturally had its share of places to spend money.

Hisoka strolled along the street, his eyes briefly scanning the pubs lining the road.

Beep, beep.

The phone in his hand vibrated.

Hisoka glanced at the screen and tapped a few times.

With the appearance of a successful transaction notification, his once-wealthy account was now empty.

To locate Moro as quickly as possible, Hisoka had spent his entire savings.

But he didn't mind.

"One year of cat-and-mouse…"

Hisoka's eyes narrowed slightly. He wasn't in a hurry to find Moro just yet, instead heading toward a casino in the distance.

Having burned through nearly all his funds, he needed to replenish them.

After all, if Moro slipped away again, Hisoka wouldn't even have money to board a ride and chase after him.

And that would be troublesome indeed.

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