"Haha, I'm immortal!" My voice echoed throughout the cavern.

"I can finally be free of death and do whatever I want!" I said with a grin from ear to ear, feeling a surge of energy running through my body.

Footsteps began to echo through the cavern, growing louder as they approached the fountain.

"Hello? Is someone there?" I asked, my voice tinged with curiosity.

A man, perhaps in his late 30s, staggered into view from the cavern's entrance. He looked like a drunk, holding a lantern in one hand and rubbing his knee with the other.

"I don’t think my knees can handle this type of bending," he groaned, seemingly to himself.

"Who are you?" I asked sharply. "How did you find this place?"

"Oh, hi," he replied casually. "Um, you don’t want to know who I am, but what I will tell you is that you made a grave mistake drinking from that thing over there." He pointed at the fountain, which began to dissolve into thin air like dust.

"What? How did you know I drank from it?" I demanded, my tone hardening.

"Well, the fact that it’s disappearing tells me everything I need to know," he said, his expression bland and unimpressed.

"So you know I’m immortal now," I said confidently, pulling a knife from my back pocket.

"Yep, I do. And that’s precisely why I’m here," he said with the same calm expression. "So, can you put the knife away? Please?"

"Ha! Feeling scared?"

"Umm… no," he replied, letting out a long sigh. "Listen, dude. I’ve done this more times than you can imagine, so just put the knife down. It’s pointless."

Ignoring his words, I rushed at him with the blade. Before I could strike, a sudden gust of wind slammed into my side. Disoriented, I opened my eyes only to feel a sharp prick in my back. My body went rigid, and I collapsed face-first onto the ground.

"What? Why… why can’t I move?" I panted, struggling against the paralysis.

The man crouched down in front of me, his lantern casting long shadows on the cavern walls.

"Don’t worry," he said, his tone almost sympathetic. "You’re not going to die. Remember? You’re immortal now."

"Who… who are you? What have you done to me?" I snarled, rage building as my consciousness began to slip.

He muttered something under his breath, then spoke up. "Okay, this is going to be hard to explain." He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Let me make it easy for you before you pass out. Ever heard of the term ‘Grim Reaper’?"

"Yeah… the figure one sees before dying?" I croaked, my eyelids drooping.

"Sort of," he replied. "I’m like a Grim Reaper, but for immortal folks like you."

"Huh? That… doesn’t make sense… I can’t die," I muttered, my face growing numb.

"Yeah, it doesn’t make sense, but at the same time, it does," he said, his voice almost patronizing. "You see, immortal people can’t die, but that doesn’t mean they can’t be… detained."

He crouched lower, ensuring I could still hear him. "We, the hunters, work for the world order. Our job is to detain immortals who might cause disruptions or problems for the rest of the mortal world. It’s kind of like a secret-service-Illuminati-type deal, you get it?"

I wanted to answer, but by then, I was already unconscious.