Chương 1: Chapter 1: Transmigration Tango
The morning greeted Malachi with a gentle kiss of golden sunlight as he swung his leg over the bicycle, ready to embrace another day of unassuming labor. His shadow, long and solitary, danced beside him on the pavement—a silent companion in the city's waking moments. The wheels spun with a whispering hiss against the tarmac, a soothing cadence that filled the air with the promise of routine.
"Beautiful day, isn't it?" Malachi remarked to himself, grinning at the crisp freshness that only dawn could offer. His voice, a harmonious blend of merriment and tranquility, spoke of a man who found contentment in the simplest of life's offerings.
With each pedal, his thoughts unfurled like the pages of an unwritten diary. He pondered the meetings that awaited him, the figures and charts that would demand his attention, the quiet satisfaction of resolving another problem. Never once did the specter of death cross his mind—why should it? Malachi had never taken a life, had never courted danger. His was a world of spreadsheets, not swords.
As buildings whisked by, their windows reflecting shards of awakening life, Malachi allowed himself a moment of introspection. "Perhaps today I'll find that error in the Jenkins account," he mused, the mental challenge a delicious anticipation. It was this peaceful ordinariness, this comforting predictability, that clothed his life in soft, reassuring hues.
"Morning, Mr. Malachi!" called out Mrs. Henley from her flower shop, her hands a blur among a sea of blossoms.
"Top of the morning to you, Mrs. Henley!" Malachi replied, his voice laced with the warmth of shared history. Their daily exchange, as much a ritual as the rising sun, brought a smile to his lips.
Then, without warning, the world shifted. A truck, its bulk a monstrous aberration in the serene landscape, hurtled from an alley with a roar that shattered the harmony. Time slowed, each heartbeat a drum roll to impending calamity.
Malachi's eyes widened, his pupils dilating to capture the last frames of his existence. There was no time for fear, only the stark realization that this was an end unchosen, unwelcome. "So this is how—" he began, but the thought was snatched away by the gruesome ballet of metal and flesh.
The collision was an explosion of sound and sensation, a cruel punctuation to a life lived gently. In that fleeting moment, Malachi's world, once so vibrantly detailed, became a canvas of pain and confusion, a whirlwind of color and darkness.
And then there was silence—a void where once there had been the humming of tires, the laughter of children, the rhythm of a heart that beat with the simple joy of being alive.
In the aftermath, the bicycle lay twisted and abandoned, a testament to a journey abruptly ended. But even as the chaos settled, a faint echo of Malachi's spirit seemed to linger, a reminder that even in the face of the darkest magic, the light of a good soul cannot be entirely extinguished.
The rays of dawn had not yet penetrated the thick, velvety curtains of Malachi Blackthorn's bedroom when he jolted awake. A searing pain thundered through his skull, a cacophony of agony that made him gasp aloud. His hands flew to his temples, fingers pressing into flesh as though he could physically squeeze out the affliction.
"Ugh..." he groaned, the sound strangled by the clench of his throat. The sensation was akin to molten lead being poured into the crevices of his mind, reshaping memories with every scalding drop. Scenes of other worlds and battles beyond the scope of a normal man's life flickered behind his eyelids, each image branded into his consciousness with alarming clarity.
"Where I am?" he whispered in confusion, his voice a hoarse rasp amidst the silence.
His breaths came in short bursts, like the rhythmic huffs of a forge bellows, fueling the fires of transformation within him. He felt the bed beneath him, a once familiar sanctuary now strange and foreign. The room itself seemed to hold its breath, as if awaiting an inevitable metamorphosis.
Then, cutting through the maelstrom of his thoughts—a sound. A clear, electronic *ding* resonated somewhere close, though no device or mechanism was in sight. The pain receded enough for curiosity to take root where confusion had dominated.
"The Strongest Hunting Protagonists System is activated," a disembodied voice announced, mechanical yet strangely warm. "Does the host want to bind?"
Malachi's eyes snapped open, the world coming back into focus. His gaze swept across the room, falling upon the intricacies of his surroundings—the fine tapestry of battles won on the far wall, the rugged elegance of dark wood furniture carved from the heart of whispering forests, and the soft glow emanating from enchanted sconces.
"Bind? What does that even mean?" His words were cautious, probing the unknown entity for answers.
"Binding will initiate the integration of the system's capabilities with the host's cognitive and physical faculties," the voice replied, maintaining its neutral, informative tone. "Acceptance is required to proceed."
He took a deep breath, considering the implications. As a villain by circumstance and a hunter by choice, the prospect of such power was irresistible. Yet, it was not in his nature to leap without looking at what shadows might lurk below.
"Will this...system... harme me?" he asked, his voice gaining strength as he imagined the potential.
"No. The system provides the host with enhanced abilities, strategic advantages, and knowledge pertinent to the pursuit and defeat of any designated protagonist," the voice answered.
Suprised and happy A smile apeared on his face and he thought it like those novel where the protagonist get a system and reach the peak of his the only difference is that i hunt protagonists. The allure of a legendary life chasing and hunting protagonist, and the feeling of trampling the favorite of the world—these were the things that set his pulse racing. The thought of a harem did not escape him either; power had always been an aphrodisiac, and he wondered how the system might influence those dynamics.
"Then I accept," Malachi declared, the decision resonating within his very soul. "Bind the system to me."
"Binding process initiated," the voice confirmed. "Welcome, Malachi Blackthorn, to your new reality."
As he lay there, the pain vanished completely, replaced by an invigorating surge of energy. It was as if he had been reborn with the promise of countless conquests ahead of him. The bedroom, once a place of rest, now stood as the starting point of an epic journey—one Malachi Blackthorn was eager to undertake.
It is my first novel I hope you will like it pls don t be harsh on me and if there something you want me to add or some advice you want give me write in the comment
And pls give me a good review and thank you
SUY NGHĨ CỦA NGƯỜI SÁNG TẠO 
Adam_Jbr
Adam_Jbr this is my first novel I hope it will please and don t be harsh on me because am newbie