The victor and the defeated had been decided; life and death were already sealed.
The loser could finally rest, while the living still had to keep struggling to survive.
Kisho turned around.
He walked over to Beyer, whose life or death was still uncertain, crouched down, and checked his condition.
Since the bullet hadn't hit a vital spot, he was still alive.
"Wenide." Kisho called out. "Come take a look—how should we deal with this guy?"
...
A moment later.
Using extremely rough methods, Wenide dug the bullet out of Beyer's shoulder, then tore Beyer's clothes into strips and tightly bound the wound—considered treated.
Staring at the unconscious Beyer, Kisho asked in a deeply skeptical tone,
"Just leave him like this? No problem?"
Wenide stood up, spread his hands, and replied,
"There's no medical supplies at all. If someone's injured, this is the only way to deal with it. After we get back, I'll have his people come carry him away. But if he dies in the meantime, there's nothing that can be done."
Kisho: "..."
Even if there were medical supplies, Wenide probably wouldn't take them out to use anyway.
"...Still, Vincent being killed by you just like that." Wenide murmured. "It's really... hard to imagine."
Kisho didn't respond to the sentiment. He lightly raised his hand; it was as if the sensation of blood flowing over his fingertips still lingered—warm and sticky.
He shook his head, gathered his thoughts, and asked,
"What's next? Are you going back to find people to take over Vincent's forces?"
Hearing Kisho's words, Wenide froze. As if startled, he suddenly lifted his head and stared at Kisho. After a moment, the deep-rooted shock and hesitation in his eyes completely dissipated.
He let out a low laugh, filled with mockery—and also relief.
Because he suddenly realized that he was no longer the timid small-time leader he used to be, no longer someone who had to hand over credit and territory to others.
Kisho wasn't interested in what Wenide was thinking. He said slowly,
"If there's nothing else, let's head back first. Anyway... your people are gone too. You can't do anything."
Wenide nodded. He picked up the knife that had belonged to the red-haired man—Vincent—and the submachine gun placed in the corner. After asking Kisho whether he wanted them and receiving a negative answer, he put them away.
In Meteor City, firearms and ammunition were even more valuable than gold.
Small gangs fought back and forth for nothing more than these weapons—things that could make them stronger, help them live longer, stand higher, and sleep more soundly.
...
After escorting Wenide back to the base, Kisho couldn't be bothered with the follow-up matters. After watching Wenide for a while to make sure there were no issues, he returned to the garbage mountain of one of the numbered districts.
Sitting in the trash heap, Kisho silently practiced his Ten while waiting for someone to come back and take him to extra lessons.
Night fell.
A hand pushed aside the plastic barrel blocking the entrance to the garbage den, and Amos's figure appeared at the doorway.
"Back?" Kisho tilted his head to look at him and smiled. "How'd it go?"
"Same as always." Amos raised his hand and tossed something toward him. Kisho caught it and looked—surprisingly, it was a battered old cellphone.
Kisho flipped the phone over again and again in amazement—this was the first thing in this world that could be considered high-tech that he'd ever touched.
Although both the back cover and the body of the phone were severely damaged, when he opened the cover and pressed the power button, the screen still lit up.
"That's impressive!" he exclaimed, looking up at Amos. "Where did you get this?"
"Someone threw it away. I had someone fix it up a bit. The number keys are almost completely broken, but I had them input my number." Amos said calmly. "If you select my number directly to call, if you're lucky, I can probably pick up."
Kisho let out an "Oh," continuing to fiddle with the phone. Although it couldn't compare to the touchscreen phones of his previous life, it still made him extremely happy—maybe because this phone gave him the same sense of familiarity as the previous world.
"Hey, have you never seen a phone before?" Amos stood at the entrance for quite a while. Seeing Kisho completely absorbed in his new toy, he called out helplessly,
"Let's go. The person I arranged to meet is already waiting."
Feeling looked down on, Kisho shrugged, stuffed the phone into his pocket, and stood up.
"Alright, let's go."
The two sneaky figures leapt between the garbage mountains. In just over ten minutes, they crossed the entire Ninth District and arrived at the other end of the trash heaps.
"Whoosh."
"Whoosh."
Amos stopped. Kisho stopped beside him as well. About twenty meters away, atop a garbage mountain, stood a man.
The man had a square face and a sturdy build. He watched Kisho, who stood next to Amos, with vigilance. After Amos glanced at him, the emotions in his eyes slightly receded.
"Here—this is Vester. You've seen him before, but you probably don't remember." Amos introduced him to Kisho.
Kisho looked at him for a moment and nodded—possibly one of the people who had ambushed him earlier in the garbage mountains. Back then, the man had been wearing protective gear to hide his identity, so Kisho didn't have much impression.
"No need for unnecessary talk. Let's start directly." Amos then looked at the man.
"Neither of us can even be considered beginners, so please start explaining from the very beginning."
At Amos's evaluation, black lines crawled across Kisho's face, but he obediently remained silent—students who needed extra lessons had no right to refute.
On the other side, Vester also showed a strange expression.
He really couldn't understand how someone who wasn't even a beginner had managed to bring another person into the basics, but wisely didn't ask further.
He said slowly,
"Alright, then I'll start from the beginning."
After a brief pause, Vester figured out how to explain. He raised his hand, releasing his Nen and gathering it in his palm.
"Every living being emits a tiny amount of life energy, but most people unconsciously let it leak away. This energy is what we generally call 'aura.'"
He continued softly,
"So-called 'Nen' is the ability to freely control the 'aura' emitted from inside and outside the body, using it for attack and defense."
"Normally, learning Nen requires years of cultivation, but in Meteor City, almost no one learns Nen this way."
Amos sneered.
"More accurately, if you take it slow, you won't even live long enough to learn Nen."
"That's one reason. But even outside, for people who know nothing about Nen, learning it is extremely difficult. Without guidance, they might never find the entrance in their entire life—let alone in a place like Meteor City."
Kisho: "..."
That's right. If someone here learned Nen, there was no way they'd kindly teach someone else—no one knew whether, at some point, the two might turn from friends into enemies over interests.
People here never believed in "trust."
Vester paused briefly and continued,
"So generally speaking, the reason we can learn Nen is because we've once been attacked by Nen, forcibly opening the body's aura nodes."
He silently observed the two children standing opposite him, thoughtful.
"But with this method, if the person attacked can't control Nen within five minutes, they'll quickly die from exhaustion of life force. Even if they don't die, the enormous burden of Nen pressure on the body can cause disability."
Hearing this, cold sweat broke out all over Kisho. He turned to Amos and said half-jokingly, half-sighing,
"So someone really was lucky to survive."
Amos remained calm and expressionless.
"Thanks."
Vester: "..."
After a moment of silence, he said,
"Next, I'll briefly introduce the basics of Nen—the four major practices."
He raised his hand.
"You already have Nen, so you can try following what I say."
"First is 'Ten,' the most basic technique of Nen. Wrapping all of your aura around the surface of your body, keeping it stable and continuously present—this is called 'Ten.'"
After finishing the explanation of Ten, Vester paused.
Kisho's and Amos's expressions changed instantly.
Because in their perception, the person standing opposite them—his sense of presence dropped within a single breath to the point of being almost undetectable.
He was standing there, yet people unconsciously ignored him.
"And then there's 'Zetsu.'" His voice came.
"By drawing aura back into the body and eliminating one's own presence, during this time, the body's defense against Nen is almost nonexistent. At the same time, one's existence becomes much harder for others to detect."
Kisho frowned, thinking,
"So this technique is called 'Zetsu,' huh?"
He had used this technique on the night he fought Kleri—using Zetsu and Kleri's arrogance to deceive him, kill him, and survive.
Vester continued,
"Next is 'Ren,' which allows the aura in the body to be strengthened in a short period of time."
Using Gyo, Kisho saw the sudden burst of aura around Vester's body and nodded inwardly—this, he could use as well.
He shook his head helplessly, sighing that practice really did lead to true understanding.
Even if some half-baked teacher had never properly taught him, he'd still managed to survive in Meteor City and teach himself through hardship.
He turned his head to look at Amos, who also wore a thoughtful expression.
Because these techniques he hadn't known the names of before—Kisho had told Amos about them, and Amos had tried using them as well. He should be able to get the hang of them soon.
"Finally, there's 'Hatsu.'"
Vester's tone grew heavier.
"After cultivating the techniques mentioned above, one can release Nen outward. Depending on the individual, this will produce various different Nen abilities."
Vester emphasized the words "Nen abilities."
"'Nen abilities'!"
"'Nen abilities'?"
And in their hearts, Kisho and Amos also heavily repeated those words.
Those three words were like a door blocking their path forward—and at this moment, the strange and dazzling new world beyond the door was opening itself to them.
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Pls Drop some Power Stones
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