In a pitch-black world, Kisho stood where he was, and at the other end of the night was daylight—the only light in the entire world.
It was the light of an operating room: stark, pallid, horrifying white light.
A blue-eyed child sat on the operating table, completely motionless.
Countless tubes were inserted into the child's body, various colored liquids slowly being infused into him.
The child's hands and feet were covered in wounds and chains, firmly shackling him to the operating table.
About a dozen metal plates were attached to the child's body. On a row of instruments connected to them, cold electronic screens emitted a steady beeping sound. The words displayed were all the same: xxx area, replacement xxx sequence cell-cultivated organ, implanted without rejection, normal.
Kisho slowly approached that patch of white light, until the darkness enveloping him was completely swallowed by it.
He gazed at the boy on the operating table, but the boy merely sat there numbly, ignoring his approach.
Kisho checked the labels on the IV bags: toxins, magical beast blood, bacteria, sensitivity enhancers, and stimulants.
Kisho reached out and pulled out every tube inserted into the boy's body, then grasped the shackles binding the boy's hands and feet. With a gentle squeeze, the chains crumbled into dust.
He gathered the boy into his arms. The boy did not move at all, ignoring every one of his actions.
He carried the boy toward the darkness he had come from. Just as he was about to step into that dense blackness, Kisho lowered his head and saw a snow-white chain, like light itself, connected to the boy in his arms. The other end merged seamlessly into the white beneath his feet.
Kisho said softly, "I'll take you away from here, okay?"
The boy in his arms slowly lifted his head, his silver-blue eyes meeting Kisho's gaze.
In those eyes, Kisho saw his own reflection—identical to the boy.
Once again, he said gently, "I'll take you away from here, okay?"
The boy did not respond. He only stared at him with wide eyes, as if trying to carve the other him with black eyes into his heart through his pupils.
Kisho took the boy's hand.
It was strange. It felt like holding his own hand, and also like his own hand was being held.
Kisho said, "I'll take you away from here, okay?"
The boy in his arms did not move.
But Kisho saw that the chains around the boy's feet turned into specks of white light, just like the ghastly white behind them, and were swallowed by the darkness.
Kisho stood in the darkness, holding the boy.
He smiled faintly, bent down, and whispered into the boy's ear, "It's okay. Sleep. No matter how many times it takes, I'll bring you out."
He softly called the boy's name, "Noah."
...
Kisho opened his eyes.
A fleeting dream image, as if separated by a lifetime.
Come to think of it, after arriving in this world, he had wondered about it too. Why did he die, yet appear in another world? Why was he able to use "Nen ability" without ever having trained? Why, in situations of extreme danger, did he always sense it beforehand and narrowly escape?
The turning point was after he put "Sonata of Darkness (Piano)" into the book. It was like pouring a force of the same origin into a dried-up spring—something that had been dormant within his body awakened. It was hard to describe that feeling; it was as if he had suddenly discovered limbs he had never noticed before, never used before.
And now, he could use them freely.
"Noah."
Kisho softly murmured the name—the original owner of this body.
So really, there was no such thing as "starting a new life out of thin air." It was nothing more than the body's original owner being willing to take in a wandering soul.
There was no such thing as casually opening your eyes and being able to use "superpowers." Those were things the body's original owner could only obtain after enduring countless torments.
There was no such thing as suddenly waking up upon sensing a life-and-death crisis. It was simply another soul within the body, already awake, issuing a warning.
This was power brought by Noah's soul—although Noah was unwilling to wake up, if Kisho needed it, he could use this portion of power.
The first time Kisho used this power was that night. He condensed all his Nen into fire and hurled it at that damned "Phantom Troupe leader," thinking that if he could kill him, all the better; if not, trading it for a chance to escape wouldn't be bad either.
But he was too naive—or rather… too overestimating himself.
That man evaded in an instant, then closed in in another instant. So fast that Kisho didn't even see the so-called "afterimage" before his limbs were already shattered and he was knocked unconscious.
Then, he was thrown into a box.
As his consciousness sank into darkness, feeling despair and deathly stillness, he saw Noah—saw Noah sitting on an operating table in a laboratory.
Ridiculously, in the depths of despair, upon seeing someone even more hopeless than himself, Kisho instead pulled himself together. He walked into that white light steeped in death, carried Noah out of the laboratory, and held him in the pitch-black, dense darkness that was nevertheless filled with a sense of safety.
But with each passing day, with each cycle of moonrise and moonset, when Noah awoke, he would still be lying on the laboratory operating table.
Not just the operating table—Kisho had also seen Noah with his body cut open, lying on stone; seen him sitting inside a box; seen him collapsed atop a massive mountain of garbage—seen countless versions of him ending in death, yet unable to die.
With each passing day, Kisho would go to find Noah, again and again, once more and once more, carrying him from the white light into the darkness.
Perhaps there existed a way to help Noah end this endless cycle of death that trapped him, but what Kisho could do now was limited to briefly pulling Noah out of the cycle.
Kisho smiled bitterly.
He had almost exhausted even the strength and will that supported him in going on.
How could someone who couldn't even light himself up illuminate others?
He slowly stood up, steadied himself, and tried to use his Nen ability.
After a while, his "The Fantasizing Musician" finally appeared in his hands. Perhaps because the ability of "Song of the Four Seasons" had been taken away, this book had become somewhat illusory, lacking the solid, book-like feel it used to have.
However, "Songs of Taboo" and the flute placed inside the book were still there.
Back then, after he slipped the flute into the book in the concert hall while no one was paying attention, he had indeed sensed some changes in the Nen book. But the situation was urgent and he hadn't been able to examine it closely. Now, that change seemed to have disappeared again.
Kisho inferred that it was likely because the ability that carried that change had been taken away.
After being able to use Noah's power, his Nen recovered a little. Although his body still felt extremely uncomfortable, at least he wasn't so weak that he couldn't even move—perhaps also because he had been unconscious for a night and had gotten some rest.
In any case, he could continue moving.
Dismissing the book in his hand, Kisho glanced at the wound on his arm. It wasn't deep. Using "Gyo" to cover it with Nen, he stopped the bleeding.
Only then did Kisho have the mental space to observe his surroundings.
His current location was roughly at the edge of the desert. He could see streets in the distance—though "settlement" would be a more fitting description.
He stood in a small courtyard crudely enclosed with assorted materials. In the center lay a stone about half a meter high and as long as a person, covered in dark bloodstains—clearly used as a slaughtering table. Thinking about how he had once lain on it made Kisho feel waves of nausea.
The ground of the courtyard looked as if it had been soaked in blood, showing a dark brown hue, especially along the path leading to the small tent in the corner.
Kisho stood outside the tent, not going in.
That stench of blood and the putrid smell of rotting flesh—his nose, which could barely smell anymore, still caught it.
Kisho covered his nose and took a step back, raising his hand.
Moments later, his journey to parts unknown set sail once more.
Behind him, towering flames burst out of the low tent, connecting with the feeble sun that had just risen in the sky.
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Pls Drop some Power Stones
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