"Authentic Blue Moon Orbs! Don't miss this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!"
Night had fallen over the amusement park, and the fountain square—always crowded with tourists—was drawing an even larger crowd thanks to a very loud, very small street performer.
"One orb per Misery Moon Tiger! Each tiger only produces one in their entire life! Genuine article, guaranteed!"
The tourists had seen these so-called Blue Moon Orbs at souvenir stalls throughout the park. Most people assumed they were cheap knockoffs—plastic baubles with glitter suspended inside. But under moonlight, the orbs did catch the light beautifully, reflecting pale blue radiance that looked almost magical.
What really caught people's attention, though, was the performer himself.
A boy. Maybe five years old. Holding up a glowing Blue Moon Orb and shouting like a carnival barker.
He grinned at the growing crowd. "1,800 Jenny! Arm wrestle me! Winner takes the orb!"
The crowd murmured, amused.
A woman in the front row smiled warmly. "Oh, how cute! Where are your parents, sweetie?"
"Look at him! So serious! I just want to hug him!"
"Wait, these orbs sell for 40,000 Jenny at the souvenir stands. Is this one fake?"
"Has to be. Real ones don't exist."
"Forty thousand?! The guy I bought mine from said it was 100,000!"
People gathered, laughing, treating it like free entertainment. After all, who could resist watching a tiny child challenge adults to arm wrestling?
Liam pushed away a woman who'd been trying to pat his head. "Ma'am. Please. I'm trying to run a business here. You want to arm wrestle or not? 1,800 Jenny per attempt. Cash only. Thank you."
"Auntie will give you 5,000," the woman said, pulling bills from her wallet with a smile. "But if I win, the orb is mine. Deal?"
"Thank you, Miss," Liam corrected, pocketing the money smoothly. He hopped onto a borrowed stool, positioning his arm. "Alright. Let's go."
The woman laughed, leaning down to clasp his tiny hand in hers.
"Don't worry, sweetie, Auntie won't use too much—huh?"
She pushed.
His arm didn't move.
She pushed harder.
Still didn't move.
She strained, face reddening, sweat beading on her forehead. The boy's arm might as well have been welded to the table. No matter how much force she applied, it didn't budge even a millimeter.
Finally, exhausted, she gave up.
Was that real? she wondered, staring at her trembling hand. Or some kind of trick?
The crowd erupted—some applauding, others booing, a few accusing the woman of being a plant.
"That's your kid, right?! This is a scam!"
"I'll do it!" A muscular man in a tank top pushed through the crowd, cracking his knuckles. "I hate bratty kids. Do you know how much this vacation cost me? Little punk, I'm not going easy on you like your mom did!"
"Sure." Liam wiggled his fingers. "1,800 Jenny, please."
"Make it 2,000. That orb's worth it." The man slapped cash on the table.
Three seconds later, his arm was pinned. His confidence was shattered. His worldview was crumbling.
Liam didn't even pretend to struggle. Every challenger—tall, short, muscular, average—got demolished in under three seconds. No exceptions. No mercy.
Dimensional gap, he thought smugly, collecting another wad of bills. These people don't stand a chance.
With 1,400 total aura—even though Manipulation wasn't an Enhancement type—he was operating on a completely different level from normal humans. They might as well have been trying to arm-wrestle a hydraulic press.
Before park security could arrive to shut him down, Liam grabbed his earnings and vanished into the crowd.
The audience dispersed slowly, buzzing with confusion and conspiracy theories.
One young man with a vendor's apron stood fuming. Someone passing by recognized him. "Hey! You're the guy who sold me that orb for 100,000 Jenny! You scammer!"
"I'm the scammer?!" the vendor shouted. "That kid stole that orb from my stall! He just left with it!"
"So it really was genuine? Interesting."
The crowd, satisfied with the evening's entertainment, wandered off.
Ten minutes later, Liam reappeared.
He found the vendor and held out the Blue Moon Orb. "I'll rent this for 1,000 Jenny. Deal?"
"One thousand?!" The vendor's eye twitched. "Kid, you're more crooked than I am!"
But he took the deal.
Liam counted his earnings as he walked back to the hotel. 26,700 Jenny total. Minus 900 for the orb rental after negotiation. Net profit: 25,800 Jenny.
He set the rented orb on his nightstand, where it caught the moonlight and glowed softly.
Then he collapsed into bed and passed out immediately.
The Next Morning
Liam woke at dawn, ran through his morning Nen drills, then headed to the training site for afternoon fundamentals practice.
Menchi showed up briefly, ran through her basics, then vanished again—probably off developing her Conjuration ability somewhere private.
Ginta stopped by to observe, realized Liam was just going to train relentlessly regardless of audience, and left.
Which suited Liam fine.
Because his main attention wasn't on his physical body anyway.
Auto-training is the best, he thought, maintaining Ken while most of his consciousness operated remotely through birds. I gave myself standing orders through the Star Mark on my neck. My body keeps training while I multitask.
Efficiency.
Part of his attention stayed with the two crows following Shizuku, looking for opportunities to guide her toward... something. He wasn't sure what yet. Just away from the Phantom Troupe's eventual recruitment.
The other part monitored the Kakin investigation team on the north coast.
And tonight, Babimyna—the cauliflower-haired military officer—had made progress.
North Coast: Evening
Through the eyes of two birds perched in a nearby tree, Liam watched as Kakin soldiers dug up the burial site he'd made over a week ago.
"Two bodies total," one soldier reported. "Female here. Male over there. Professional Hunter, judging by the gear."
"Any sign of the child?"
"No remains found."
"Could've been rescued by whoever buried the bodies," another soldier suggested. "Or eaten by wildlife."
Babimyna stood perfectly still, hands clasped behind his back, staring down at the excavated corpse pit. The woman's body was barely recognizable after decomposition had set in.
"Photograph everything," Babimyna ordered. "Send evidence to Prince Benjamin."
"What about the bodies?" someone asked.
"Do you have a hobby of desecrating corpses?" Babimyna's tone was flat. "Mark the location. Rebury them."
As his subordinates worked, Babimyna remained motionless.
Behind him, two birds lifted off from their branch, circled briefly, and flew away.
Babimyna didn't turn around.
"Two birds rotating. Six total."
His voice was quiet. Thoughtful.
"That's not coincidence. Someone trained them. Or they're being manipulated remotely—Manipulation-type surveillance. Operating under the assumption: whoever forced Musse to commit suicide is watching us. Don't alarm them. Wait and see."
One of his soldiers hesitated. "Sir. Could this person have taken the infant prince? Raised him as their own?"
Babimyna said nothing.
But the possibility hung in the air like smoke.
Meanwhile: Outside East Town
Liam's physical body stood in the clearing, finger aimed at a distant tree, aura bullet charging on his fingertip.
"I'm getting a bad feeling," he muttered.
The six birds I sent to follow Babimyna's team have been rotating for two days straight. If he's as well-trained and observant as he seems, he's definitely noticed six random birds hanging around his crime scene.
I can't outplay these people. Time to cut my losses.
He released the snap.
CRACK.
The spirit gun—carrying at least 600 aura worth of compressed Emission—punched clean through the first tree. Kept going. Tore through four more trees before finally dissipating.
Liam stared at the path of destruction.
If I'd had this much power during the poacher fight, he thought, I wouldn't have needed the ten-second charge-up. One snap, Garo's dead, fight over.
Progress.
More importantly: he still had aura left. The technique hadn't drained him completely.
I'm getting efficient.
He turned toward the north coast, thinking about Babimyna.
The guy reburied the bodies. Showed respect. That's... surprisingly decent.
Okay. New plan: pull all surveillance. Stop giving him patterns to notice. Focus on training. Get strong enough that exposure doesn't matter.
Over the next few days, Liam withdrew all six birds from the north coast surveillance rotation, consolidated his network, and threw himself into training with renewed intensity.
The results were immediate.
Menchi, watching from a distance, felt the pressure increase. She started showing up less frequently—probably holing up somewhere to develop her Hatsu in peace, away from the living reminder of how far behind she'd fallen.
Ginta passed through occasionally, studied the trail of destroyed trees, and thought: Emission? Enhancement? Manipulation? What type IS he?
He had no answers. Just more questions.
Late December
Noon. The usual training clearing outside East Town.
Liam sat cross-legged in Ken, consciousness split between his body, a few surveillance birds, and the auto-training routine he'd programmed into himself.
This is the life, he thought. Perpetual grinding. No interruptions. Just—
"Why are you still training?!"
Menchi burst into the clearing, grinning like she'd just won the lottery.
Liam cracked one eye open. Go away, the look said. I'm busy leveling.
"You're ridiculous," Menchi said, studying him. "I swear you're twice as strong as when we first met. Maybe more."
Accurate, Liam thought. 1,000 aura to 1,400. That's a 40% increase in one week. I'm cracked.
"Anyway!" Menchi held up one finger, aura visibly flowing around it. "Today's special! It's New Year's! 1994 is over! January 1st, 1995! No more training today. Come to town. I'm cooking a feast!"
She couldn't contain her excitement. "And guess what? My Hatsu is done! Fully developed! I won't lose to you anymore!"
Her grin widened. "Aren't you going to ask what it does?"
Liam stood up, brushing dirt off his shorts. "Nope."
"What?! Come on! Ask!"
"Lumos, I'm going." Liam walked past her toward town. "I'll bring you something back!"
Jaku chirped twice and fluttered after him.
Menchi stood there, deflated. He's supposed to ask! I prepared a whole explanation!
But she followed anyway, muttering under her breath.
Because despite everything—despite the frustration, the competition, the constant reminder of the gap between them—Menchi realized something.
Training with this kid is fun.
Annoying. Humbling. Exhausting.
But fun.
And as they walked toward East Town under the early afternoon sun, Liam allowed himself a small smile.
1994 has passed, he thought. And honestly? I don't miss it. Not even a little.
Here's to 1995. Let's see what fresh hell this year brings.