After several hours of testing, Liam had figured out a crucial modification to his Star Mark ability.
Spectator Mode wasn't just about keeping the target conscious while he controlled them. He could actually communicate with them inside their own head—a shared mental space where his thoughts and theirs could coexist.
Which is either really cool or deeply horrifying, Liam thought. Probably both.
The communication worked like this: while possessing a target in first-person mode, he could "partition" some of his mental bandwidth and give it back to the target. Let them think. Process. Even respond.
But—and this was crucial—they still couldn't control their body. That was all him.
So it's less like "shared control" and more like "you're locked in a spectator box while I pilot your meat suit, but hey, at least we can chat about it," Liam summarized. Definitely horrifying. Cool in a war crime kind of way.
The real breakthrough, though, was this: he could update their standing orders while possessing them, then disconnect and let them execute the new instructions autonomously.
No more rigid command queues. I can give complex, conditional orders and then step back.
He tested it on one of the white birds.
First, he gave the bird a simple command using voice mode: "Fly in a figure-eight pattern."
The bird obeyed, circling through the air in an infinity loop.
Then Liam switched to first-person possession, taking control of the bird mid-flight. He "went online" for just a few seconds—long enough to establish the mental connection—then gave a new command through the shared headspace:
When I disconnect, land on Lumos's tail.
He released the possession.
The bird immediately stopped its figure-eight pattern, folded its wings, and dove toward the ground like a kamikaze pilot with a very specific target. It swooped through the trees, adjusted course with practiced precision, and touched down perfectly on Lumos's tail.
Lumos turned his head, staring at the bird with an expression that clearly said, What the hell was that?
"It worked!" Liam said aloud, grinning. "Holy shit, it actually worked."
The modification was clunky, sure. Inefficient. It required him to possess the target first, then update the command, then disconnect. Three steps when ideally it would just be one.
But it's a starting point, he thought. And starting points are better than nothing.
He considered trying to evolve the ability further—maybe adding direct mental communication without needing possession, like telepathy.
But that felt wrong.
Shepherd's Song's core concept is control, he realized. Manipulation. If I start tacking on communication abilities, conjuration abilities, specialist bullshit... I'm going to dilute the whole thing. Make it too complicated. Forget my own rules.
And forgetting your own Nen restrictions is how you get yourself killed.
He'd read enough battle shonen manga to know how that story ended. The protagonist develops some overly complex ability with seventeen subsystems and fifty conditions, forgets a crucial restriction mid-fight, and gets vaporized because they accidentally violated their own Hatsu.
No thanks, Liam decided. Keep it simple. Keep it focused. Control is control. Communication can wait.
"Alright," he said, stretching. "That's enough experimentation. Back to basics."
He wrapped his hands in Ten, feeling the aura settle over his skin like a second layer of cells. Thin, flexible, protective.
My priority is raw power, he reminded himself. More aura. Better efficiency. Stronger output. Not fancy tricks.
"Lumos!" he called. "Let's go. Show me that training spot you found."
The tiger rumbled happily and lowered himself.
Liam climbed onto his back, Jaku settling on his shoulder. The two white birds took to the air, flanking them from above.
And they set off into the forest.
Along the way, Liam caught more birds.
He was patient this time. Methodical. He tested different mark placements—abdomen, back, under the wing, along the leg—making sure each pentagram was small, subtle, and hidden by feathers.
No more beak marks, he thought. Too visible. Too easy to spot.
Each mark cost him approximately 66 aura. By the time he'd marked his thirteenth bird, he was panting, legs shaky, vision starting to blur at the edges.
Thirteen birds times 66 aura equals... 858 aura spent, he calculated. Out of 1,000 total. I'm running on fumes.
But he'd paced himself, taking breaks between each marking. Let his aura regenerate. By the time he released the last bird, he still had about 300 aura left in reserve.
Good enough, he decided. Not great, but good enough.
He gave each bird specific instructions, then released them into the sky.
They scattered in three directions, wings beating hard, disappearing into the blue.
The reason for three groups was simple: Slohe's team had split up.
Of course they did, Liam thought. Because nothing in my life can be simple.
Group One: Slohe + Kanzai
They'd left West Town early this morning—probably around dawn, judging by the timeline—and driven south in one of the off-road vehicles. Liam had checked a map earlier (thank god for internet cafes) and figured out where they were headed: the main entrance to the Misery Moon Tiger Reserve.
Probably going to negotiate with Blanchett Company, Liam guessed. Official business. Permits. Legal threats disguised as polite requests.
He'd assigned six birds to follow them. Not all at once—that would be obvious. Instead, only two birds maintained visual contact at any given time, while the other four rotated in and out, breaking line of sight periodically to avoid establishing a pattern.
Because Kanzai is smart, Liam reminded himself. He noticed the bird on the vehicle roof last night. His instincts are sharp—maybe not intellectually, but predator-sharp. If I'm too obvious, he'll catch on.
Group Two: Babimyna's Team
The Kakin military group was still investigating the cruise ship on the north coast. The green bird Liam had stationed there overnight was exhausted—metaphorically speaking, since birds didn't get tired the way humans did, but Liam had been possessing it on and off for sixteen hours.
I need to rotate that bird out, he thought. Babimyna's too observant. Even if he hasn't figured out the surveillance yet, he's probably noticed the same bird hanging around. That's how patterns get you killed.
He assigned six replacement birds to take over. They'd cycle through, same as the Kanzai group—two active, four resting, constant rotation to avoid detection.
The original green bird could finally stand down.
Through its eyes, Liam had watched as Babimyna's team pulled something out of the water near the cruise ship. Something human-shaped.
They found Musse, he realized, stomach sinking. Of course they did. I dumped them in shallow water. What did I expect?
Note to self: next time you dispose of corpses, use deeper water. Or fire. Fire's good.
Group Three: Shizuku + Amateur Hunters
This was the group Liam was most interested in.
The amateur Hunters Slohe had hired—Shizuku and three others whose names Liam hadn't caught—had changed out of their suits and into casual clothes. Then they'd quietly entered the reserve from the eastern perimeter, moving like they were trying very hard to look like they weren't conducting corporate espionage.
Subtle, Liam thought. Real subtle.
The reserve was divided into three zones:
Outer Zone: Open to tourists (with permits). Relatively safe. Monitored by Blanchett Company staff.
Buffer Zone: Restricted access. Research personnel only. Where the actual conservation work happened.
Core Zone: Absolutely forbidden. No humans allowed, period. Where the Misery Moon Tigers actually lived.
Shizuku's group was poking around the outer zone, supposedly looking for... something. They didn't seem to know what, exactly, which made watching them equal parts frustrating and entertaining.
After about twenty minutes, the group had split up—each person heading in a different direction, agreeing to meet back at a specific time.
Perfect, Liam thought. Makes my job easier.
He had four birds tracking Shizuku specifically.
Why Shizuku?
Because Liam had a theory he needed to test.
Through the bird's eyes, perched on a tree branch thirty meters away, Liam watched Shizuku wander through the forest.
She looked relaxed. Unbothered. Like she was on a nature hike instead of conducting illegal surveillance in a protected reserve. Her medium-length black hair was slightly messy, falling past her shoulders. The oversized glasses kept sliding down her nose, and she'd absently push them back up every few minutes.
And she was wearing a black turtleneck sweater.
In this heat, Liam thought. Who wears a turtleneck sweater in a subtropical forest? That's psychopath behavior.
But more importantly: I need to see what's under that sweater.
Not for the reasons that sentence implied.
God, that sounds so bad, Liam thought, wincing. If anyone could read my mind right now, I'd be on a list.
But he had a legitimate reason.
Every member of the Phantom Troupe had a spider tattoo somewhere on their body. Twelve legs, numbered 1 through 12.
And if he remembered correctly—if his meta-knowledge was accurate—Shizuku's tattoo was on her left side, just below her ribs.
Number 8.
But does she have it yet?
That was the question.
In the canon timeline, Shizuku was already a Troupe member when Gon and Killua encountered her during the Yorknew arc. But that was 1999—five years from now.
So when did she join? Liam wondered. Was it recent? Years ago? Is she already a member, or is she just some random Hunter who happens to have the same name and appearance?
I need to know.
Because if Shizuku was already in the Phantom Troupe, that meant the Troupe might have interest in this island. Which meant Liam needed to get the hell out before a pack of S-tier murderers showed up.
But if she's not in the Troupe yet, he thought, then maybe I can... I don't know. Prevent her from joining? Steer her away from Meteor City? Save her from a life of crime?
Or maybe I'm just being a delusional isekai protagonist who thinks he can fix everyone.
Jaku, perched on his shoulder back in the real world, pecked his ear.
"Ow. What?"
She chirped, as if to say, You're thinking too loud.
"Yeah, well, blame the universe for putting me in this situation."
Back to the surveillance bird.
Shizuku was walking slowly through the forest, pausing occasionally to look at flowers or interesting rocks. She seemed genuinely curious about the environment, which was... kind of endearing, actually.
Focus, Liam told himself. You're not here to find her charming. You're here to check for gang tattoos.
The problem was: how?
He couldn't just fly down and peck at her sweater. That would be weird and suspicious.
He couldn't possess her and make her lift her own shirt. That was super weird and possibly traumatic.
I need her to take off the sweater voluntarily, he realized. Which means I need a reason for her to take it off.
Heat exhaustion? No, she seems fine.
Water crossing? There's no river nearby.
Wild animal attack that damages her clothing? Way too elaborate and also cruel.
Back in his physical body, riding on Lumos's back, Liam finally reached the training site.
It was... mostly what he'd asked for.
Open space? Check. A clearing about fifty meters across, ringed by trees.
Water source? Check. A small stream running along the eastern edge, probably fed by runoff from higher elevation.
Flat ground? Check. Relatively level, with only a few rocks and roots to trip over.
Liam slid off Lumos's back and stretched, taking it all in.
"Not bad," he said. "You did good, big guy."
He patted Lumos's flank. The tiger rumbled happily.
Then Liam walked over to the stream, knelt down, and cupped some water in his hands.
He sniffed it.
Paused.
Sniffed again.
Oh no.
"Lumos," he said slowly. "This water smells like sulfur."
The tiger looked away, suddenly very interested in a nearby tree.
"Lumos. Buddy. Did you find me a training spot next to a mineral spring?"
Lumos kept staring at the tree.
"I can't drink this, man. It's—" Liam tasted a drop. Immediately spat it out. "—it's basically battery acid. What the hell."
Lumos lowered his head, ears flattening. The universal body language of I tried my best and I'm very sorry.
Liam sighed.
"It's fine," he said, reaching up to scratch behind Lumos's ears. "You did great. I'll just... bring bottled water. Or find a different stream. It's fine."
The tiger leaned into the scratching, purring like an engine.
At least the location is good, Liam thought, looking around. Secluded. Defensible. Far enough from the towns that no one will stumble across me while I'm training.
And if the water's undrinkable, well... I've dealt with worse problems this week.
He sat down in the middle of the clearing, crossing his legs, and closed his eyes.
Time to get to work.