The cage's iron bars were rusted, their strength compromised. Amplified by his Nen, Moro forcibly bent the vertical bars, creating an opening large enough to slip through.
Ignoring the terrified gazes around him, he ducked out of the cage. Hearing movement from outside the cargo hold, he sidestepped and grabbed another bar. He tried to snap it but lacked the strength. With time pressing, he noticed the bar's ends weren't welded and yanked the bent bar free from the frame.
At that moment, the cargo door swung open, sunlight flooding in. A tall figure stood silhouetted against it, holding—a handgun!
Moro's eyes sharpened. At his newly awakened Nen level, even a small-caliber gun could inflict serious harm. Nen users' control over aura stemmed from prolonged practice, ingraining it as instinct. Though Moro had awakened his Nen, he needed time to adapt his body to its flow. In this state, a gun was an obvious threat.
The instant he saw the gun, Moro didn't hesitate. He hurled the bent bar with precision, his Emission-type training ensuring perfect aim and trajectory.
The spinning bar whistled through the air, striking the figure at the door. A pained cry rang out as the man was thrown backward.
But in that same moment, a faint sound accompanied a Nen-charged throwing knife slicing through the air, aimed at Moro's leg. An attack from another person—a Nen user!
Caught off-guard, Moro barely shifted his body. The knife grazed his knee, drawing a spray of blood.
His face tightened, suppressing the pain radiating from the wound. He quickly retreated deeper into the cargo hold, putting distance between himself and the door.
He knew there were two transporters, so he'd been mentally prepared. But the truck's sudden stop and the presence of a Nen user caught him by surprise. More critically, the timing of the knife attack suggested the attacker knew the situation inside the cargo hold before the door opened. Yet, the gunman's lack of heightened alertness implied the Nen user hadn't shared key details.
The Nen user had deliberately let their gun-wielding partner open the door, using them as bait while revealing the threat.
Cold-blooded.
Moro pressed against the cargo hold's side wall, his expression grave. He glanced at the dimly lit ceiling corner, spotting a faint red light—a surveillance camera.
He frowned, retracting his gaze. Failing to account for these factors was his oversight. He hadn't been thorough, especially in considering the possibility of a Nen user among the transporters.
But Moro never dwelled on regret or frustration. Learning from mistakes was his principle, the foundation that allowed him to build a stable, profitable antique shop in under six months. The antique trade was rife with deception, scams, and setups, and Moro had been duped more than once. Those experiences shaped his ability to handle diverse situations.
He looked toward the cargo door. The attacker hadn't shown themselves since striking. One detail nagged at him: at the moment of the knife attack, the opponent had a clear chance to gravely injure or kill him but chose to target his leg instead.
A ruthless person willing to sacrifice their partner as bait, yet sparing his life? "The cargo's value outweighs the risk of losing a partner," Moro realized. The "cargo" was, of course, the captives like him.
This suggested the attacker was tasked with ensuring the cargo's integrity, which led Moro to recall the original timeline's truck attack, where most captives died. Was there a hidden reason behind that event? Could it reflect the high value of this batch of captives?
Unfortunately, in the original timeline, Moro had lost consciousness soon after surviving the attack. He awoke on a ship to Kakin, lacking memories of this world and unable to speak the language, so he couldn't investigate the cause. Later, he hadn't pursued it. With more knowledge now, he might have uncovered more.
For now, he was certain the attacker prioritized the cargo's safety over their partner's life. That could be leveraged.
Moro quickly checked his wound. It wasn't deep, but without stopping the bleeding, it was a liability. Time was running out.
"Hm?" His pupils narrowed as he stared at the still-silent cargo door, then glanced at the knife embedded in the wall. The opponent held the advantage but showed no intent to press it, not even revealing themselves. Were they overly cautious, or waiting for something?
Moro studied the knife, finding no clues. He resisted pulling it out to use as a weapon. Lingering in this stalemate felt wrong—he had to act.
Time to gamble.
Moro surged toward the cargo door. Outside his field of vision, Zazan heard the movement and instinctively raised his left hand. Nen surged, conjuring a throwing knife, ready to hurl it toward the sound. His fluid actions and quick reactions reflected his combat prowess.
But reason stopped him. In his blind spot, a preemptive attack risked killing a captive. That split-second hesitation allowed Moro to leap out of the cargo hold, landing over ten meters away. He locked eyes with Zazan, standing by the truck's side.
The gamble paid off.
Seeing Zazan hold back, Moro steadied himself, subtly glancing at the knife's position in the cargo hold. His nerves tightened, ready to adapt.
Zazan gripped the knife, his gaze on Moro filled with astonishment. This kid… was too strange.
"Are you always this bold?" Zazan asked, twirling the knife, his face expressionless.
Moro stayed silent, focusing on acclimating his body to his Nen's flow.
Seeing Moro's silence, Zazan's brow furrowed. "If I'd acted earlier, you'd be dead or half-crippled," he said coldly.
"You could've done that from the start, couldn't you?" Moro replied calmly.
Zazan's expression shifted.