Supernatural: Mythical Hunter

The sensation of falling seemed endless, a plunge into nothingness. No air rushed past, no light guided the way—just an infinite, oppressive blackness that pressed against his skin like cold velvet. The only sound was the deafening silence as if the world itself had forgotten him. 

The first thing he noticed was the silence. It wasn't the absence of sound but something deeper—a void that swallowed every thought, every breath. It pressed down on him like a weight, suffocating yet strangely calm. 

He opened his eyes—or thought he did. There was no light, no color, just an infinite expanse of darkness stretching in all directions. It wasn't cold, but neither was it warm. It simply was. 

He didn't remember how he got here. One moment, he'd been... what? A flicker of memory teased the edge of his mind: laughter, a sharp chill, the mundane rhythm of a life he could barely recall. And then, this. 

He turned, but his body didn't feel real. The darkness didn't just surround him—it was him, and yet, he still existed within it, apart from it. 

That's when he saw it: a faint glimmer in the void like a star struggling to break through the black. It pulsed once, twice, then grew brighter. Slowly, the light began to take shape—a screen of differing shades of darkness. 

You are chosen, the screen said in its dark letters. 

Power shall be bestowed. Choose. 

The screen flashed an abyss black, then revealed a cascade of powers, flickering across it like options in a game: Marvel, DC, Overlord, Jujutsu Kaisen, and more. Greyson's smokey form hovered, his mind whirring as he stared at the choices. 

"What's going—no, just go with it. Either this is a dream or it's real. What matters is I think, therefore I am," Greyson muttered, his voice steady despite the absurdity. 

He reached out to the screen with his shadowy form. It responded immediately. He flicked through the powers, considering the myriad options. "I should choose one that gives me versatility. I know nothing right now, so it's best to choose a wide range of abilities." 

His gaze shifted to the counter in the corner: 5000 points. A demonstration of what he could buy from this system. But one limitation became clear—it seemed he couldn't buy from multiple worlds. He had to settle on one. 

Grey's lips twitched in a dry smile as his eyes landed on one option: Lord of Mysteries. "Perfect," he murmured. 

When he tapped on it, the Pathways revealed themselves like an intricate web, each strand leading to a unique set of powers. Surprisingly, he could select specific abilities from each pathway, a custom system that allowed him to tailor his choices. 

'Hmmm, I need more info. I can't decide based on this little I have. I should wait. See if anything else comes up.' Greyson closed the counter and noticed a Q/A box in the corner. 

What happens after I choose? he asked. 

The darkness blinked on the screen and swirled before responding: You will enter the world of Supernatural. Though it won't be the one you know, there will be differences. 

Grey looked around at the swirling void and began to speak a name, but the screen flashed again: Names have power. Do not. 

He tilted his head, then nodded. Moving away from the Q&A panel, he returned to his selection. The screen revealed limitations—he couldn't choose Angel-level abilities, and his limit appeared to be Sequence 4. 

"Hm. If I pick multiple Sequence 4 abilities, I'll reach Sequence 3 status anyway," he mused aloud. 

He scanned the pathways, starting with what he deemed essential. "I need a strong body and good combat. Either Hunter or Warrior pathway... Let's go with Demon Hunter from Warrior." 

The interface adjusted, displaying the powers of Demon Hunter. "I'll take the Eyes of Demon Hunting, Tracking, Concealment, Alchemy, Spiritual Intuition, and Giant's Physique." He tweaked the selection, removing Dawn Paladin and Guardian abilities. "Not necessary. No idea if they'll even work in this world. That brings the cost down nicely." 

Moving to the next pathway, he scrolled. "I need luck." He tapped on Wheel of Fortune and selected Sequence 5's Passive Luck. "Now crafting and healing... Sequence 4 Alchemist for crafting and soul abilities. Hm, hopefully, these adapt to the modern day." 

Greyson continued: "Next, a Sequence 5 Druid's Crossbreeding and Treatment abilities. Then I'll take Sequence 6 Chef's abilities. That totals over 2500 points." He nodded. 

"But hunting in Supernatural means I must be good at tracking, deceiving, and analyzing. So: Sequence 9 Lawyer, Sequence 8 Swindler, Sequence 5 Mysticism Magister for spells and detective abilities. Combine that with Sequence 4 Mysticologist... Spell Creation and Mysticism Reenactment." 

He paused. "Lastly, Seer and Clown powers. Then a Secret Sorceror's pocket dimension item creation. Hmm, that's all the points spent. Shame I couldn't get Sequence 6 Pleasure's Charm. Would've been fun too—" 

A small pop interrupted his thought as a wrapped present appeared on the screen. Grey raised a brow and opened it. The screen flashed: Sequence 6 Pleasure's passive charm and limited pleasure abilities. 

"Generous," Grey muttered with a smirk. "Maybe they felt guilty for ripping my soul out and dumping me into a world of monsters." 

The screen flashed one final question: Are you satisfied with your selection? 

Greyson nodded. "Yeah, that'll do. I guess now I'll find out if it's real or a dream." 

A gift pack will be distributed on arrival. 

The darkness swirled and deepened, consuming him entirely. No up, no down, no sound, no thought—only nothing. 

And then, Greyson was gone. 

… 

Marion, Illinois, 2006 

In an alleyway, a young man—well-built and handsome, with high cheekbones, a sharp jawline, and short silvery hair—lay face down. He stood 6'2" when upright, but now he was slumped against the ground, lifeless. A jagged hole marred the back of his head, roughly inflicted, as if by an ice pick or screwdriver. Whatever the weapon, it left no doubt: he was well and truly dead. 

A faint dark fog appeared at the corner of the alleyway, moving purposefully toward the body. It circled the young man's head like a predator stalking prey before descending, enveloping the wound. The mist lingered for a moment before fading into the air, leaving the man's head unmarked. 

With a sudden, violent gasp, the young man sat bolt upright, his piercing black eyes snapping open. 

"Fuck…" Greyson groaned, rubbing his forehead as though his skull were splitting open. The pain was sharp and immediate, but slowly it dulled, allowing him to stagger to his feet. 

"What the actual…" the young man manages his face, rubbing it in incredulity. "it was actually real," Greyson said in wonder. Then the memories hit. 

Greyson fell to his knees grunting out in pain, as memories flashed in his vision, like he was watching an old film strip. His black eyes fluttered as he struggled to stay conscious. It suddenly passed as soon as it started, 

Greyson sighed and slumped to the floor, his back against the alley wall, "Interesting, this body is part of the Men of Letters. His family was banished from the British Men of Letters years ago for their experiments. They fled to America where they used their fortune to integrate into society." 

"I am from that family and am also an experiment about a human becoming a god. But the divinity placed in me never awoke. However now that "I'm" here, the divinity has activated, resulting in the powers I chose and bringing me back to life." 

"Perhaps that's why I couldn't choose anything higher than a sequence 4, the rest of the divinity was earmarked to bring me back to life." Greyson mused. 

"My name is still Greyson, but my surname's changed. Greyson Duggery. Not bad." He said as he got up and stood. He reached up to rub the back of his head to check where his wound had been, but it was gone, not even a trace remaining. 

"Given all this, I suppose I really should suspect how I died, probably a supernatural being killed me." Grey nodded. "And I'm probably in shock due to all this, I should probably find somewhere to wind down and do something normal for a second." 

Feeling his body he can tell he seems to be wearing a pair of jeans, a combat jacket, and a shirt with a t-shirt underneath. His hands reach his pockets, a wallet, a motel room key, and a set of car keys, but no phone. Luckily his newly given memories allow him to recall that he dropped it when attacked from behind. 

Shaking his head in annoyance he turns to leave, kicking something small and rectangular as he does so. Hoping that it's the phone that he dropped when he was attacked, Greyson crouches down at heels around his eyes seeing perfectly in the no light of the alley. He soon saw an old flip phone, well this time it would be a brand new phone, not even a year since its release. Flipping it open Greyson checked the date and time, 22:16, 03/15/2006. 

"Back in time huh?" Grey smirked. He stared up at the night sky where the stars were visible, after a small amount of time he was roused from this daze by the dryness of his throat. Deciding to head away from the alleyway of his murder, Greyson steps out onto the sidewalk. The light from the lampposts lets him see clearly, Greyson looked around and saw shops and houses. 

Along the street down the road Greyson saw a 24-hour diner, stopping by a street light he pulled out the wallet he had felt while patting himself down earlier. Opening it up he checked the cash he had. After doing that Greyson remembered the pain he felt earlier when he patted himself down. 

Pulling down his shirt a little he checked himself in the light, a little worried that whatever monster had killed this universe's Greyson had also inflicted some sort of other wound. However much to his surprise, Greyson saw a tattoo. One he recognised at that, an anti-possession tattoo, seemingly to be new as well. 

'Huh, good man, practical.' Grey smiled and nodded. 

He reaches the diner, opening the door which was singled by the jingle of a bell. A young woman with dark reddish brown hair was behind the counter, sitting on a stool reading a book. The diner was empty, save for about 2 other customers. One was typing on a laptop, the other reading a book and nursing a cup of something hot from the way vapor was rising. 

The checkered floor and burgundy seats make Greyson smile as she walks to a nice corner booth, next to a window. The noise of the bell had alerted the pretty young woman to his presence, and she got up and walked to where he was seated. "Hi, you're up late, anything I get you?" she greets him with a smile. 

Greyson's head turns from looking out of the window and his eyes flicker up to her name tag. "Couldn't sleep I guess… a cup of coffee would be nice, and I don't suppose you have today's newspaper lying around here somewhere?" 

She nodded, her hair swaying on her shoulders as she did, "Yeah I'm sure I saw my manager leaving one in the staff room, I can grab it for you. Just a coffee and the paper?" 

Greyson paused and then smiled, "Pie, you got any pie?" 

The waitress laughed and nodded. "Yeah we have pie, I'll get you a slice. Anything else?" Grey shook his head. 

"Give a few minutes…" the waitress says as she puts her notepad back into her pocket and walks away, leaving Greyson alone. Not even 3 minutes later she returns with the paper a cup of coffee and a slice of pie. "Here you go," She says as she sets them down on the table. 

"Thank you, Grace," Greyson says as he opens the paper Grace turns to leave, hesitating as she gives Greyson a quick glance, but sees him reading the newly received paper, but walks away. 

Greyson unfolded the paper, it wasn't a big-name paper, just the local one. He sighed, now that he had time to really think, and not just react, there were a few issues he needed to consider. 

'So this body was just passing through this town on his way back home, saw a tattoo shop, and decided to get a tattoo to prevent possession. Then was murdered, poor form for a Green Beret. It's good that both I and 'I' were in the army, I don't have to get used to knowing how to fight. This body is rather perfect.' Greyson thought as he pretended to read the paper. 

'I have a little brother and sister, hmm well I've already accepted that Greyson and 'I' are one and the same.' Grey accepted the body's emotions for his family. He and Grey were the same person, much like Zhou Mingrui accepting himself as Klein Moretti and the family that came with it. 

Sipping his coffee Greyson skimmed the Marion Times, *Terror Gripping Us a Murder Occurs* *Lock Your Doors to Stay Safe* *Sheriff Department… Fools?*. 

'So either a serial killer or a Supernatural creature. I guess when I get back to my motel room I should take a look at my powers and this gift that the darkness said would be distributed.' 

'Speaking of powers... yeah let's not test them here.' Grey thought with a smile, 'Though.' He closed his eyes and imagined a shape that didn't exist in this world slowly entering a state of Cogitation. A flood of information entered his mind and he could feel his muscles spasm as all the knowledge of his powers flooded into him. 

How to use them, what their current limitations were, and what he had to learn to improve them. Everything. Greyson could now say he had mystical powers that were now active. 

He looked around the diner and clicked his molars twice, using Spirit Vision, which allowed him to see the nonphysical plane. Glancing around he saw the man writing on his computer, his Spirit Body was clouded and slightly darker in colour. He was anxious, probably a deadline on whatever he was writing he was coming up against. 

The waitress was reading the same book, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. From the colours of her emotions, she was enjoying it. Grace seemed to sense him looking at her and looked up at him. He smiled and looked back at his untouched meal. 

He picked up his fork and started to eat his pie. It was sweet, contrasting with the bitterness of the black coffee. With his Chef abilities, he could taste each and every ingredient. Grey activated the Gourmet abilities of the Chef Sequence and drew out the memories of the pie. 

He saw Grace earlier that day, working hard to bake the pie. But nothing else interesting. 

The young man slowly finished his food and drank his coffee slowly. 

He looked out the window. The street lights on the sidewalk create a direction for his eyes to flow. Trailing along them until it gets too dark to see, only twinkling dots in the distance. A perfect picturesque view, Grey was sure that it had been captured by locals and tourists alike. 

He set up his empty coffee mug pulled out his wallet and took out a few dollars, before getting up and walking out of the diner. 

Grace smiles and waves as Grey leaves the diner. The door swings shut as he steps out onto the sidewalk. Recalling that his hotel wasn't far from here, Greyson starts in that direction. 

It doesn't take long to make his way there, it's only a few blocks away from the diner. The neon light from the sign on the building is a telltale sign that it's a crappy motel, "Motel… nice…" Greyson rolls his eyes and steps into the motel, he pulls out his key and checks the number, 308. 

"Yay, stair climbing…" he mutters as he starts up the stairs, the creaking groans of the wooden steps tell Grey just how old this place is. 'Come on me, couldn't have chosen a nicer place?' Grey lampoons. Finding his room he opens it up and then locks it behind him. There was a grey carpet, white walls, and a bed with some floral designs on the sheets. A side table with a lamp, and a bible on it. Moving to the bed, Grey sits. 

"Oh great Darkness, you mentioned a gift bag?" Greyson smirked. 

Immediately a black briefcase pops into existence, landing in front of Greyson. 

He pulls out everything and places it neatly around him in a semicircle around him. There are fake IDs with references to old, new, and yet non-existing books, along with countless fake law enforcement and various company IDs. "looks like my contractor knows me… I'm touched…" his mouth curls up into a smirk. There are matching credit cards for these IDs as well, "oh joy, credit card fraud, looks like it's really a part of the life…" Grey rolls his eyes, "Probably shouldn't use my family credit cards when on the hunt. Would leave a trail. 

Next, he pulls out a Desert Eagle handgun, "Ohhh a classic, very nice, now this packs a punch, though it's got a bit of weight to it. Nit that its a problem for me." Using his training from the Green Beret he skilfully disassembled the gun and in an almost OCD way positioned all the pieces next to him. Along with the corresponding bullets, silver and normal. With the gun came a broad sharp knife which he set down next to the gun's pieces. 

Reaching back into the bag he pulled out a neatly packaged set of suits, "Looks expensive, at least I won't be caught out because my suits look cheap." 

Pulling out the last three things he could see in the bag, an EMF reader "Now that's a classic piece of hunter gear…" Putting that down he picked up the second to last item. Now in his hands was a laptop, "Not sure why I need this, I know everything about monsters. That being said." He turned to look at the last item. 

A Men of Letters diary, "I should spend tonight recording scenarios and monsters and lore I remember from the show." Grey mused. 

Setting the suit on the table out for the next morning, Grey put an FBI badge in the suit pocket. Then sat at the opposite end of the table with a pen and the journal and started to write. 

… 

Light poured through the blinds, and Greyson opened his eyes, bright and alert. 'That's new… probably thanks to my Giant's Physique.' he mused as he got out of bed and started his morning stretches. Sleep hadn't come easily, but it didn't seem to matter; he didn't feel like he needed much anymore. 

He'd been up until sunrise, filling the hunting journal with everything he could recall from his memories. The faint ache in his hand was a reminder of how much he'd written, but it didn't bother him. 

After finishing his stretch routine, Grey threw on a pair of shorts and a light top before heading out for a run. The air was crisp, the remnants of winter still clinging to the early spring morning. The cool air filled his lungs as he ran through the quiet streets, his body moving effortlessly. 

Back at his motel, he grabbed a shower. The water streamed over his skin, washing away the sweat, and he leaned against the tiled wall for a moment. When he stepped out and dried himself, his reflection in the mirror caught his eye. 

It was one thing to see himself in memories—another to confront the unfamiliar face in the glass. Yet strangely, there was no discomfort, no dissonance. It felt... right. 

Dressing quickly, Grey donned the suit he'd set out the night before. The Windsor knot came easily, his fingers moving with muscle memory. After ensuring everything was in place, he grabbed his wallet, keys, phone, and ID before stepping outside. 

The parking lot was nearly empty, and his lips curled into a small smile when he saw the car. "I have good taste." The 1970 black Dodge Charger sat waiting for him, its long hood and sloping back gleaming like liquid obsidian in the morning light. 

Sliding into the driver's seat, Greyson felt like an extension of the machine, his silhouette blending into the shadows of the interior. The keys jingled as he turned the ignition, the engine roaring to life with a deep, throaty growl. The headlights flickered on briefly, casting a golden glow before fading. 

"Nice," he murmured, pulling out of the parking lot and heading downtown. 

Heading downtown to where the town's law enforcement and morgue were located. Grey parked across the road, getting out and slamming the door behind him. Grey stood across the street, looking at the building where he would commit his first crime in this world. Well, where "he" would. 

Greyson cocked his head to the side, 'Well it's not like I can quit, I made up my mind, maybe a little too quickly. But I don't think I would have changed my mind even if I had waited longer to decide.' 

Pushing himself off of his car, Grey walked across the road and into the building. Exuding an aura and body language that only one who had served time in the military could, Grey walked to the reception. He greets the young officer there, "Good morning, I'm Agent Roberts, FBI" He flips his badge open and displays it. "I was sent down about the recent murders?" 

The officer's name tag shows his name 'Jones', and his eyes flick over to the badge and then to Greyson's face. "Errr right, the chief's office is down the hall." The young man said nodding to the hallway. 

Greyson nodded and offered a strained smile in return. He strode down the hallway, and with his Spiritual Intuition he could still see the young officer staring at him as he walked down the hallway. He reached the door at the end of the hall and knocked. 

"Yeah come in." A voice called from inside, Grey glanced at the name on the door, Davis. Then entered. 

Inside, Chief Davis, a man in his 50's, with a weathered face and slight paunch, looked up from a slightly cluttered desk. His eyes scanned Greyson quickly, before narrowing slightly. 

"You're a little young to be wearing a suit like that." He murmured. 

"FBI takes all sorts," Grey smirked, using a Lawyer's Brainwash and Swinder's Deception to fool the Chief. 

"FBI huh? Well makes sense, you seem like the sort, just look at the way you're standing." Davis chuckled. "I'm guessing you're here about the serial murders? I never thought it hit a place like this." Davis sighed grabbed a file from his desk and handed it over. 

Greyson looked through the file, a case study on the men and women the monster had killed. Supernatural or not, this was a monster. "The latest victim, do you have the body here?" Greyson asked. 

Davis nodded, "Yeah, it's downstairs in the morgue. Our attendant down there will help you out." Davis said. 

Greyson nodded and turned to leave, "Agent?" Davis called out. 

Greyson turned his head back awaiting the chief's words. "This town is my responsibility. I'd appreciate it if you could help my town out." 

Grey nodded and left the office, he followed the signs down to the morgue where he met the coroner. He was an older gentleman, balding, and wore glasses. "Who are you?" He asked as he looked up from his desk. 

"FBI, I'd like to see the body of the latest murder from the serial case," Greyson said, flashing his badge. 

"Ahhh, the boys higher up sent you down to help us out huh? Guess we could use it." The coroner said with a wry look. 

"What do you mean? Is there something strange about this case?" Greyson asked frowning. 

"Yeah, you could say that here I'll show you." The coroner got up and walked over to one of the hatches and pulled out a corpse from the cold. "The latest victim." He said as he put on gloves. The coroner then turned the corpse of the young man and showed Greyson the hole. 

"See here, a screwdriver did this, and it's hard to pierce the human skull. This took strength." He said as he pulled at the hair. "Then take a look at this, these gouges? Looks like some sort of animal dug at the skull after the initial hole was made." 

Greyson looked at the line on the skull, "You've already performed an autopsy?" He asked. 

"Yes, let me show you something." The coroner pulled the top of the skull away revealing the brain. "Here's the hole where the screwdriver was forced in, then the strange scratches again. But the most interesting thing isn't here." 

"A part of the brain has been removed." Greyson supplied, 'Based on the information given I can make a quick deduction.' 

"The pituitary gland specifically?" Greyson asked. 

The coroner's eyes widened, "Yes! Exactly right. The pituitary gland has been removed." 

"Anything else in common?" Greyson asked as he looked at the part of the brain that was missing. 

"Well nothing to do with the murder, but they all have tattoos?" The coroner offered. 

'Interesting, so it's a Kitsune, who's well-versed in murder. They should be somewhat new to town as the murders have only started happening over the last few weeks. They should be somewhat smaller in stature given the angle of the incision into the brain. They have relation to the tattoo parlor.' Greyson deduced using a Detective abilities. 

"Thank you, that's all I need," Greyson said with a smile, he held out his hand to shake the coroners. The older man pulled off his glove and shook Greyson's hand. "it was no problem, happy to help." The coroner responded. 

Greyson left the morgue and headed back upstairs, he nodded to Jones at the desk and left the station. He walked to his car and entered, grabbing the briefcase on the passenger seat he opened it and took out his Men of Letters journal. 

He flipped to the section containing Monsters and their weaknesses. Technically he didn't have to do this, as the mental enhancements from the Mysticsm Magister and Detective Sequences were enough to remember it clearly, but it was the little things that gave him pleasure in Hunting. 

'Weaknesses: Heart Destruction or Starvation due to lack of pituitary glands. Or obviously the Colt.' Greyson read with a smile. 

He closed the journal and drummed his fingers on it thinking for a moment before pulling out his laptop and searching up the tattoo places here in Marion. 

There were a few, and Greyson made a list of them before closing down his laptop and putting it and the journal away. 

Shifting his car into gear he pulled out of the station's carpark towards the first tattoo parlour. 

... 

Most of the day was Greyson just visiting the different tattoo parlors and checking them out. He'd investigate the surrounding shops and places as well. 

'Second to last tattoo parlour.' Greyson mused as he parked his car on the side of the road. The sign on the shop said 'Inky Unique Tattoo's' to which Greyson rolled his eyes. 

He put on a pair of sunglasses to hide the effects of the Demon Hunter's Demon Hunting Eyes. It seemed that every time he used this ability dark green complex mystical symbols would appear in his eyes. This helped him identify a target's characteristics, weaknesses, and current status. Using this Greyson was good at discovering the weaknesses of different enemies. 

He became sensitive to any traces of Evil, Degeneration, or Corruption, and whether someone is possessed or not. 

Greyson stepped out of the car and fixed his suit, before walking into the tattoo parlour. There was a receptionist and 3 tattoo artists. Two men and a short young woman. 

One of the men looked and narrowed his eyes before smiling. "Grey right? You came in the other day for a tattoo? Something wrong with it?" The man asked from his seat. 

Grey smiled and scanned the room casually, his eyes glowing a faint green behind his sunglasses. The woman was surprised to see him there. The kitsune most likely. 

"No, I'm here to ask a few questions." Greyson pulled out his badge and showed it to the tattooist. 

"You a fed? Didn't seem the type. Well, it's nice to meet you, Agent Roberts, I'm Sean. I own this little parlor here." Sean said with a smile, handing back the badge. "How can we help?" 

"Well, it's probably nothing, but all the victims of the serial murders recently have all had tattoos done recently. I was just checking out the tattoo parlors to see if they've noticed anything amiss?" 

Sean shook his head, "No nothing I've noticed, how about you Darren?" He turned to the other man, who was sketching a design. The man didn't bother to answer and just shook his head. 

Greyson turned to the kitsune. "You have you noticed anything?" He used a Clown's powers of bodily control to hide the fact that he knew what she was. Also, the fact that she had killed this body. Trying to come across as a simple FBI agent. He wanted to seem like he was also Supernatural but didn't know it. 

The kitsune shook her head. "Errr no, sorry." 

Sean stepped in for her. "She's just guest spotting, she wouldn't know much about the area or the situation." The guest spot was when a tattoo artist temporarily worked at a different parlor than the one they were affiliated with. Sometimes for just a few hours to a few weeks. 

"Ah well, I'm staying at the Gray Plaza motel. If any of you think of anything, come pay me a visit, room 308." Greyson smiled gently. 

Sean held out a hand, "Sure will do man." Greyson nodded and shook the guy's hand before leaving the tattoo shop. 

He unlocked his car slid into the driver's seat, and pulled away onto the road. 'Now that that's done. Shall we see if she takes the bait?' Greyson smiled as he drove back to the motel.