Kisho lay prone on the ground, completely motionless.
Not far away, subdued voices drifted over.
"Did we hit him? Damn it, don't tell me it wasn't a vital spot—how are we supposed to trade him for money then?"
"How the hell did this damn brat end up somewhere this remote! Shit, I chased him forever and almost lost him!"
"Hey, old bastard, is your aim even any good? Why isn't that little shit making any noise!"
"Stop fucking talking. I'm telling you, if this kid isn't worth my bullet money, you're the next one I'll blow away!"
...
After using "Gyo," Kisho heard far too much.
"...Footsteps. Four people."
"...One of them... has a gun."
"A gun... ah..."
Kisho took a deep breath, suppressing the fear in his heart—fear not only that the shot had nearly taken his life, but also fear of this kind of death... a way of dying he could never have imagined, no matter how he thought about it.
A "gun" was something that, to Kisho, had only ever existed in anime and novels.
"It's really hard to understand. I was just a bedridden ALS patient for ten years. Why did I have to run into so many terrifying things—and almost get shot to death?"
But there were already too many things in this world that were hard to understand. One more hardly mattered.
"Still... the one who saved me just now was 'Noah,' right?"
But it was already too late to pull Noah out. Kisho inhaled lightly again, focusing his nen—"Gyo"—into his eyes.
In an instant, the surrounding scenery lit up in his vision, as if a night lamp had been switched on, everything laid bare.
Kisho's current level of "Gyo" could only be used on one place. Once he activated it, the rest of his body could only maintain the most basic Ten.
But this was enough.
The people around him had already come closer.
"Shit, don't tell me we really blew this little bastard away!"
A hand reached out toward Kisho.
The next moment, Kisho grabbed that hand and slammed it hard against the ground. Using the leverage from his prone position, he yanked with all his strength—
Bang!
That person was dragged down hard, and Kisho used the momentum to spring to his feet, driving a vicious kick into the man's temple, knocking him unconscious. Whether he lived or died was unknown.
"First one."
Bang—!
Kisho's ears twitched as he looked toward the source of the sound.
To his surprise, the bullet flying toward his forehead within his field of vision was so slow it felt like it was playing at half speed—so slow that Kisho felt the illusion that he could dodge it.
It wasn't an illusion.
With an almost casual motion, Kisho tilted his body slightly. The bullet buried itself in the mud behind him with a dull puff.
"TMD! The little bastard's not dead! Move! Don't let him run!"
The shooter roared.
Kisho's ears twitched lightly. He raised one hand, and the filthy water in the river transformed under his movement into a sharp blade. With another flick of his hand, a "water arrow" shot out, slamming hard into the gunman's face.
"Ahhhhh—my eyes! My eyes—!"
The gunman let out a miserable scream.
But Kisho knew that what caused the damage wasn't the weak-looking water arrow he had fired, but the water that made it up.
"Second one."
Kisho's gaze fell on the remaining two people, whose eyes met his.
The night was dark—no moon, no stars, no wind.
Kisho's single blue eye was the only light, illuminating the gate that led to hell.
He heard the sound of the two men's teeth chattering, clacking together.
Kisho paused, then said softly,
"Take the people on the ground and get lost."
But the moment the word "lost" left his mouth, the two men turned and fled without looking back—completely ignoring the two people lying on the ground, and the one not far away who was still wailing, all of whom had been their teammates just moments ago.
Kisho: "..."
"Was my expectation of you too high?" Kisho murmured as he looked at the two on the ground.
"Or is it that... I truly don't understand this world at all?"
...
After spending several hours using "water" to learn "water condensation," Kisho found that even after leaving a water source, he could still consume his own nen to condense a small clump of water—just enough to moisten his mouth.
"The cooldown's a bit long, but if I use it in small amounts whenever it's ready... yeah, I probably won't die of 'thirst.' That's a good thing!"
"As for those two... who knows if they'll come back for their teammates after I leave. Heh, I'm probably being naive. More likely they'll go to those guys' homes and take everything valuable."
"Next things to do: find a stable source of food; then find a way to leave Meteor City."
After pulling Noah out within his consciousness, Kisho walked while letting his thoughts wander.
Too many things had happened. If he didn't distract himself by thinking about random nonsense, he felt like he might collapse.
This was also the method he'd used countless times in his previous life, when he was at his lowest and wanted to die, to force himself to keep going.
...
At the boundary between District Twelve and District Eight, two people who thought they were finally safe stopped to catch their breath.
"Someday I'm definitely going to kill that little brat!"
"And that damn Coren! When he told us to make a move, he never said that kid was basically a monster!"
The two men cursed under their breath, but their voices suddenly dropped, as if they'd seen something, their eyes widening.
The next second, they fell backward to the ground. Their eyes, still open and unable to close, were filled with terror.
In the night, a man wearing a suit stood atop a mountain of trash. He withdrew his hand and stood still, gazing thoughtfully at the two corpses on the ground.
"So... did that little kid actually bother learning the rules of this place properly?"
...
After walking all night, Kisho returned to the trash mountain of District Nine at daybreak.
If circumstances allowed, he kind of wanted to find that boy and see if he could trade some food for "Noah-brand" purified water.
That boy was definitely not simple.
He could draw a complete map with accurate locations. Either he had personally seen a real "map," or he had personally walked through every corner of Meteor City.
He knew about the church and the arena, and his reaction when the "church" was mentioned was also quite noteworthy. Either someone had told him about it, or he had once "walked" out of those two places himself.
And his physical strength and the martial techniques he had mastered didn't seem like things every kid in Meteor City would have... right?
If every kid here had that level, it would be far too terrifying.
So if he could find him and trade with him, he could probably secure a stable way to obtain food.
With food and water, he could then safely think about how to fish Noah out of the cycle of reincarnation.
...
"I advise you not to."
The boy on the trash mountain stuffed something of indiscernible use into his bag, then said coldly,
"Let me put it this way—'water' is just 'valuable,' but it's not 'cherished,' get it?"
Kisho: "You mean water is controlled by a small number of people? If you need it, you can only trade with specific people. For those who control it, they have as much 'water' as they want, but they absolutely don't allow others to have any."
"More or less." The boy jumped down from the trash mountain. "But you can trade with me. I'll exchange food for your water, as long as your price doesn't exceed Bellhan."
Kisho: "I don't know the prices over there. You set it."
The boy frowned. "100 milliliters of water for one day's worth of food for one person. Can you accept that?"
Kisho: "That's fine. It can even be a bit more. 200 milliliters for one day's worth of food for one person is enough."
The boy fell silent, looking at Kisho as if he were some strange creature.
"I don't really have a reason to refuse, but... what's your purpose in doing this?"
"Ah... probably because... I've got nothing better to do anyway?"
After thinking for a moment, Kisho gave his answer.
Condensing water also allowed him to train his "nen," and the "water" he condensed was more than he could drink himself anyway.
Boy: "...Forget it. Do whatever you want."
"Oh, you can call me 'Amos.' What should I call you?"
Kisho: "Amos? Haha, your name's really cute!"
Amos: "..."
"My name is Kisho. Then, Amos, shall we... have a good cooperation from here on out?"
Amos: "...A good cooperation."
Having resolved another major survival issue, Kisho cheerfully headed deeper into the trash mountain.
If things kept going this smoothly, surviving half a year wouldn't be that difficult—wouldn't he then be able to get rid of that bet and live his own life?
Thinking this, Kisho felt full of motivation.
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Pls Drop some Power Stones
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