"Anyway," Menchi announced, pulling a kitchen knife from the back of her belt and twirling it between her fingers with practiced ease, "if you're hungry, you gotta eat."
The knife caught the light as she spun it one last time, then gripped it properly. She grinned. "I'll get us something edible."
Lumos took one look at the blade and immediately circled around to hide behind Liam.
Smart cat, Liam thought. Very smart cat.
He pointed at Menchi's head, then gestured back toward East Town in the distance. The message was clear: You want food? There's a town RIGHT THERE. Why are you hunting in the woods like a caveman?
Menchi caught his meaning and huffed. "Don't you need to train in the wilderness? I'm surprised you came all the way out here. If you just want to practice Nen, you could've stayed in town. Why hike out here so early in the morning?"
"The town's too crowded," Liam said flatly. "I need space. Also, at your age, with your Nen ability still a mess, how are you sleeping? If I were you, I wouldn't sleep until I'd developed a proper Hatsu—"
"I'm looking for ingredients!" Menchi shouted, already running into the deeper forest. "Quality ingredients! You wouldn't understand!"
"What time is it?!" Liam yelled after her. "It's barely past noon! I, Liam, am training myself to death today and I'm not eating lunch until dinnertime!"
Menchi's response was her middle finger, raised over her shoulder without looking back.
Real mature, Liam thought.
He turned to face Ginta, who had been standing silently the entire time, watching with the expression of a man who had long since given up on understanding other people.
They stared at each other.
Neither spoke.
The silence stretched out, awkward and heavy.
Why is he still here? Liam wondered. Does he want something? Is this a test? Am I supposed to say something profound?
God, I'm bad at this.
What broke the uncomfortable standoff wasn't words—it was death.
Three pulses of cold energy slammed into Liam's chest in rapid succession. One. Two. Three.
Menchi just killed three animals, he realized, tensing.
The death energy flowed into his heart like ice water through a straw. It pooled there, somewhere deep in his chest cavity, settling into whatever metaphysical space had been accumulating this shit since he'd transmigrated.
In the past—back when he'd first started experiencing this—a single thread of death energy would cause phantom pains. Sharp, stabbing sensations like someone was squeezing his heart with a frozen hand.
Now, with three threads entering at once?
Nothing.
Just a faint chill. Uncomfortable, but not painful.
Either I'm getting stronger, Liam thought, or the accumulated energy hasn't reached critical mass yet.
Or this whole process is completely random and I'm just guessing.
Probably that last one.
He pushed the thought away. Worrying about death energy accumulation wouldn't help. He'd deal with it when it became a problem. Or when it killed him. Whichever came first.
Twenty minutes later, Menchi returned with three dead animals slung over her shoulder: two rabbits and what looked like a wild pheasant.
"That's it?" Liam said. "That's not enough for three people and a tiger."
"Then don't give half of it to the tiger," Menchi shot back.
But she set to work anyway, and Liam had to admit—grudgingly—that she was good.
No seasoning beyond salt and some wild herbs she'd scrounged from the forest floor. No fancy equipment beyond the knife and a makeshift spit. Just fire, meat, and skill.
The result was incredible.
Liam bit into a rabbit leg and nearly groaned. The meat was perfectly cooked—crispy skin, tender inside, with a smoky flavor that shouldn't have been possible with such basic ingredients.
"Holy shit," he muttered. "This is amazing."
Menchi preened. "I won the World Chef Competition when I was twelve. You think I can't handle a little wilderness cooking?"
"I take back half the mean things I've said about you."
"Only half?"
"You're still annoying."
She threw a bone at him. He dodged.
Ginta finished his portion in silence, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and turned to watch Lumos tear into half a roasted deer.
"A qualified Hunter," Ginta said quietly, "is often loved by animals. The fact that they trust you speaks well of your character." His expression darkened. "Poachers, on the other hand... just looking at them disgusts me."
Liam reached over to scratch behind Lumos's ear. The tiger leaned into it, purring.
"Why is it called the Misery Moon Tiger?" Liam asked. "That's a terrible name. Super ominous."
Ginta considered the question. "The scientific name has always been Blue Moon Tiger. Named for their unique fur patterns that glow at night. That coloration has a hypnotic beauty. It was classified as one of the Seven Most Beautiful Colors in the World."
"And?"
"And because of that classification, they became targets. Collectors. Poachers. Hunters who wanted them as trophies or pets. The species was nearly wiped out." Ginta's jaw tightened. "Slowly, over the years, people started calling them Misery Moon Tigers instead. A reminder of what we did to them."
Liam looked at Lumos—healthy, content, glowing faintly even in daylight—and felt something twist in his chest.
We did this, he thought. Humans did this. Made something beautiful, then nearly destroyed it because we wanted to own it.
He pushed the thought away. "You said this island appeared thirty years ago. Out of nowhere. Could that have been caused by someone's Nen?"
Ginta nodded slowly. "It's possible. But due to political pressure from Kakin, no one has conducted a thorough investigation. We don't have confirmation."
"Tell me what you know."
Ginta settled back, organizing his thoughts.
"Thirty years ago—1964, to be precise—this island appeared overnight. One day it wasn't there. The next day it was. Fully formed. Complete ecosystem. Inhabited by Misery Moon Tigers, which only exist naturally in the Kakin Empire on the Azian Continent."
Liam's brain stuttered. "Wait. This tigers only exist in Kakin?"
"Correct."
"So this island—"
"Is almost certainly from Kakin," Ginta confirmed. "Or at least, a piece of Kakin territory that was... relocated."
Oh my god, Liam thought. Someone moved an entire island. Just picked it up and dropped it in a different ocean. That's—
"That's insane," he said aloud. "That's Specialist-level Nen at minimum. Probably post-mortem Nen. Maybe a curse. Who could even—"
"We don't know," Ginta said. "The incident caused an uproar at the time. Kakin immediately filed protests with Ochima, claiming illegal occupation of their territory. But both governments quickly suppressed the story. This was a marginal area—politically insignificant, economically worthless. Most people forgot about it."
"Except Kakin."
"Except Kakin," Ginta agreed. "They've been trying to reclaim the island for three decades. Legal battles. Diplomatic pressure. Economic sanctions. Everything short of military action."
"Because of the tigers?"
"Maybe. Or maybe because of what else is on the island."
Liam waited.
Ginta's expression was unreadable. "There are rumors—unconfirmed—that the island contains the tomb of an ancient Kakin king. One of the legendary rulers who nearly unified the entire Azian Continent."
Oh, Liam thought. Oh no.
I'm living on top of a royal tomb.
I've been training on a royal tomb.
My bird surveillance network is probably desecrating a royal tomb right now.
"That's..." He struggled for words. "That's bad, right? That's a bad thing to be standing on?"
Ginta almost smiled. "Probably."
Meanwhile: Blanchett Company Headquarters, Misery Moon Tiger Reserve
The man sitting across from Slohe had the kind of face that gave nothing away. Mid-forties, graying hair, expensive suit. Professional. Polished. The exact type of corporate representative who'd been trained to say "no" in seventeen different ways without ever sounding rude.
He set down a document and spoke in a tone of practiced neutrality.
"According to the contract our company inherited, the Ochima Federation has no right to conduct investigations on Ghost Island without official consent from the Kakin Empire." He glanced at Kanzai, who was slouched in a chair behind Slohe, looking like he'd rather be literally anywhere else. "Therefore, Mr. Slohe, I'm afraid I cannot approve your request."
Slohe smiled—thin, diplomatic, the expression of a man who'd been through this exact conversation fifty times before.
"I've already explained," he said pleasantly. "Kakin has agreed to our investigation."
"The response I received from Kakin officials suggests otherwise."
"This was a personal promise from First Prince Benjamin Hui Guo Rou."
The representative's expression didn't change. "The First Prince is not the King. His verbal promises carry no legal weight."
"Personally," Slohe said, "I'm very optimistic about the First Prince's chances of succession. I've heard King Nasubi Hui Guo Rou holds his eldest son in high regard."
"Royal succession is not my concern."
"I've also heard rumors," Slohe continued, voice casual, "about an ancient Kakin king's tomb on this island."
The representative's face remained perfectly neutral. "I've never heard of such a thing."
Liar, Slohe thought. You heard about it. You've probably explored it. Blanchett Company didn't acquire the previous owner Falk-Weimann Institute just for the tigers.
But he didn't say that. Instead, he leaned back, picked up his teacup, and blew on it gently.
"Your company has been operating this island for nearly five years," he mused. "And you're telling me you've never conducted any investigation? Never explored? If I were you, I'd have searched every inch of this place on day one. After all—" He smiled. "—it's not every day you find a royal tomb."
"The Falk-Weimann Institute was acquired," the representative said, voice still even, "because it was failing financially. Blanchett Company took over out of a sense of public responsibility. We're focused on conservation. Nothing more."
"Of course," Slohe said. "Of course."
The standoff continued.
Slohe wasn't worried. The Ochima government would apply pressure. The First Prince would eventually be forced to honor his promise. And in the meantime, the amateur Hunters he'd sent into the reserve would find something.
Hopefully before Kakin's people do, he thought.
Behind him, Kanzai yawned so loudly it echoed off the walls.
Meanwhile: Misery Moon Tiger Reserve, Outer Zone
Shizuku had been walking for two hours.
She hadn't found any Misery Moon Tigers. Hadn't found anything remotely interesting. Just trees, rocks, and the occasional bird.
Where are all the tigers? she wondered, glancing around. Aren't there supposed to be tigers?
She checked the sun—past noon, definitely—and found a shady spot under a tree. Time for a break.
Two crow-sized birds landed on a branch directly above her head.
Shizuku didn't notice them. She raised her hand, and something materialized out of thin air—a vacuum cleaner with a grotesquely oversized mouth, two bulging eyes, and a tongue that lolled out like a dog's.
"Blinky," she said. "Bread."
The vacuum's mouth opened. FWOOMP.
A pile of packaged bread tumbled out onto the ground—fresh, still in plastic wrapping, like she'd just taken them off a supermarket shelf.
Shizuku picked up a loaf and started eating.
Above her, in the birds:
Liam's consciousness occupied both crows simultaneously, watching Shizuku with the focus of a scientist observing a rare specimen.
That's Blinky, he thought. Her Hatsu. Conjuration-type. Manifests as a vacuum cleaner with biological traits.
The mouth can suck in anything Shizuku classifies as "non-living." No limit on size, weight, or volume. Doesn't matter if it's bigger than the mouth—if Blinky can touch it, it gets sucked in.
And no one—including Shizuku herself—knows where the stuff goes. It just... disappears into whatever pocket dimension Blinky accesses.
In the canon timeline, Shizuku had used Blinky to dispose of bodies during Phantom Troupe operations. Clean, efficient, untraceable.
But right now, she's just using it to store snacks.
Shizuku finished a piece of bread and looked thirsty. "Blinky. Water."
FWOOMP.
A bottle of mineral water shot out of the vacuum's mouth.
Okay, Liam thought. That's actually genius. Portable storage with infinite capacity. She's basically walking around with a Bag of Holding. This is the most useful non-combat ability I've ever seen.
Shizuku unscrewed the bottle cap, tilted her head back, and drank.
And as she lowered the bottle, she made direct eye contact with the two birds staring down at her.
She blinked.
They blinked.
Did she notice? Liam wondered, freezing. Does she think we're weird? Do normal birds stare at people like this?
Shizuku tilted her head, studying them with mild curiosity.
Then she shrugged and went back to eating.
Crisis averted, Liam thought, exhaling mentally. Thank god for her terrible memory.
But his mind was already made up.
Blinky is perfect. Portable storage. Infinite capacity. Clean disposal. This is a must-have ability. I need this.
Which means I need her.
Not in a creepy way. In a "recruit her before she joins a murder gang" way.
I've decided, he thought firmly. I'm keeping this one.
Back in the real world:
"WHAT'S DECIDED?!"
Menchi's panicked shout snapped Liam back to his body.
He blinked, disoriented. Menchi was standing in front of him, kitchen knife drawn, expression somewhere between alarmed and offended.
"Look," she said quickly, "I know you claim to be twenty years old, but first of all, I don't believe you. Second, you look like you're five. So whatever weird thoughts you're having about me—Liam, was it?—they're not happening. It's impossible."
Liam stared at her.
Processing.
Oh.
Oh no.
She thinks I was thinking about her when I said "I'm keeping this one."
"My height is short but my knowledge is vast!" he snapped, face burning. "What's wrong with how I look? I've seen people in their fifties who look like children! There are old women who look like dolls! It's a thing!"