A Nen user's combat power is decided by many factors.
If total aura volume (both manifested and potential) is the hardware, then a complete tactical Nen system is the software.
Neither can be missing.
Normally, hardware like potential aura volume requires years of accumulation; there's almost no shortcut.
But ever since Moro died and regressed, that was the one thing he never had to worry about.
Otherwise he'd have just lain flat and enjoyed his final year of life.
Now that he could see a real path forward, he was going to give it everything.
Again and again he drilled…
Successes, failures.
When an enhanced-power [Deceitful Shooting Star] slammed into his own body, even with Ten (Envelop) active it wouldn't break skin or leave bruises, but the pain was unavoidable.
If this was the road to the finish line, Moro wouldn't hesitate for a second. He'd just keep walking.
He trained until every muscle screamed, then finally collapsed flat on his back.
While catching his breath, he planned the next phase.
Start small, flip leaks for seed money → use that to hijack Shinra → turn a few million into 800 million jenny overnight.
In the weeks that followed, he swept through every big-ticket item he remembered from his previous life.
Easy-to-move pieces were dumped fast even at a discount.
The hard ones went straight into a bank vault for an astronomical storage fee.
After all the wheeling and dealing, excluding the treasures still locked away, he was sitting on 3.6 billion in liquid cash.
All in under a month.
If he'd been willing to slow down, he could have hoarded everything and unloaded it all at once during the Yorknew Auction in two months, easily clearing hundreds of billions.
He abandoned the idea.
Money is useful, sure.
But for the current Moro, "enough" was enough.
His real goal was strength.
Flipping antiques was mainly a way to charge [Annual Rings].
Moro raised his right hand and stared at the rings on the back of it.
In recent weeks he had absorbed the lingering aura from twelve different Nen-imbued objects, yet the second ring was barely at 8%.
Twelve whole items… and they still gave less than Shinra alone.
That told him one thing loud and clear: charging the second ring was way harder than the first.
Shinra's single burst of ~4% had only been possible because its aura imprint was abnormally strong.
"No need to force it…"
Moro muttered, lowered his hand, and closed his eyes.
Half an hour later he was recovered. He tidied up, threw on hat, sunglasses, mask, the full disguise, and slipped out of his private shooting range, melting back into Yorknew's night.
The late broker had given him a business card tied to an info network.
Moro had already laundered his identity and paid taxes on every jenny earned since, so now he could throw around large sums on things like intelligence without tripping any alarms.
Following the number on the card, he contacted an info broker called "Argo."
The line clicked open. Before he could speak, a mechanical voice spoke:
"Old Town Street, number 164."
Click. Call ended.
Moro didn't mind. He pocketed the phone and headed for the address.
Old Town Street sat on the city's ragged edge.
Compared to the glittering center, it was the stark divide between haves and have-nots.
The people here scraped by on the bottom rung: drunks, gamblers, junkies, all everyday sights.
The whole place reeked of grime and claustrophobia.
Look up: a frog-in-a-well sky sliced to ribbons by tangled power lines.
Look down: puddles of filth and trash underfoot.
Walking in, the image of Kowloon Walled City from old pre-traversal movies flashed across Moro's mind.
The resemblance was uncanny.
Splash.
Boot in sewage. Moro reined in his wandering thoughts, navigated the narrow alleys, and finally located number 164.
He stopped in front of a rust-eaten iron door.
No need to knock; ka-chunk, it swung inward by itself.
A button-sized camera blinked above the lamp. Moro glanced at it without surprise and stepped inside.
A straight five-meter hallway.
At the end, a cloth-curtained door on the right.
He pushed the curtain aside and entered a room bathed in dim red light.
No normal furniture, just a bank of computers and one desk chair.
In the chair, back to the door, sat a figure in a hooded sweatshirt.
"You Argo?"
Moro asked, eyeing the hood that poked above the chair.
Creak.
The chair spun around.
Female. Totally average face, brutal dark circles, hair so greasy the red light couldn't hide it.
"Yeah, that's me."
Argo sat cross-legged, leaning forward, sizing Moro up while her right hand disappeared into her hood to scratch furiously.
"You bring enough money?"
First question, straight to cash.
Moro nodded.
Argo got right to it. "What intel do you want?"
"I need long-term tracking data on this person."
Moro pulled a folded hand-drawn portrait of Feitan from his pocket, unfolded it, and held it toward her.
"Ehh…"
The second Argo saw the face she shook her head hard. "Sorry, not taking this job."
"That's fine. We can negotiate."
Moro stayed perfectly calm.
If she hadn't recognized Feitan's portrait on sight, he would've walked out and never come back.
Since she did recognize it instantly, he was willing to pay whatever it took.
Argo frowned, pulled her hand out of her hood, and picked dried skin from under her nails. "I said no."
"Name your price."
Still calm.
She shook her head again.
Moro raised two fingers. "Two billion up front. More later if needed."
"Deal!"
Argo's face did a 180. Dead serious now. "It's not that I love money; it's that your straightforward attitude moved me."
"I could tell."
Moro gave a small smile.
Argo's tone shifted again. "I'll take the job, but fair warning: every single person who's ever tried buying intel on the Phantom Troupe's movements has ended up very, very dead."
"Thanks for the heads-up, but that's irrelevant to the transaction."
"Tch. Transfer the money then."
"Done."
A few seconds later, two billion hit her account.
Argo confirmed receipt, nodded in satisfaction, and immediately earned every jenny.
"Last Monday, 20:06:24, someone posted a bounty on one specific Phantom Troupe member inside the 'restricted zone.' If you're interested, I can pull the full details right now."
Moro's eyes narrowed slightly.
"...Go on."