In the Hunter world, everyone's body contains life energy, also known as "Aura."
Ordinary people are unaware of Aura and just let it dissipate. Those who can perceive the existence of Aura and learn to use this power are called Nen users.
Liam stared at it. The leaf drifted across the water's surface in lazy circles, propelled by invisible currents that had nothing to do with wind or gravity and everything to do with the aura coating his palms.
The leaf moved.
Manipulation.
Nen abilities are divided into six major types.
The identification method known as "Water Divination" involves placing a leaf on the surface of water in a cup, then bringing one's own Aura close to the cup. Based on a series of changes in the water or the leaf, a final conclusion can be drawn, as follows:
Leaf moves on the water surface → Manipulation Type
Water's color changes → Emission Type
Water volume changes → Enhancement Type
Water's color changes → Transmutation Type
Impurities appear in the water → Conjuration Type
Other changes than the above → Specialization Type
He'd suspected. The pentagram marks. The wolf control. The whole "puppet master" aesthetic his power was going for. But suspicion and confirmation were different beasts.
In the Hunter x Hunter universe—because apparently his life was a fanfic now, hey reader—Nen users fell into six categories. Six flavors of supernatural bullshit, each with their own rules and restrictions.
Enhancement: Punch harder. Tank damage. The straightforward approach for people who thought "strategy" was a kind of pasta.
Emission: Shoot aura projectiles. Hadouken mechanics. Ranged DPS.
Transmutation: Change aura properties. Lightning. Rubber. Bubblegum with texture. The "why not?" category.
Conjuration: Create objects from aura. Swords. Chains. Vacuum cleaners. If you could imagine it and pay the cosmic price tag, you could make it.
Specialization: The "other" category. Wildcard abilities that broke reality in creative ways. Steal powers. See the future. Generally be overpowered.
Manipulation: Control things. People. Animals. Objects. The "first strike wins" category. Land your ability once and the fight was over.
Which sounded great until you remembered that everyone in this universe was either a tactical genius, a genetic freak, or had plot armor thick enough to stop artillery.
I'm Manipulation type. In a world where the main character's dad can punch through mountains and the villains include an immortal clown with a murder boner.
Liam set the cup down. His hands shook.
Fantastic.
Lumos—sprawled on the cabin floor like a glowing house cat—yawned. Tilted his massive head. The sapphire markings on his fur dimmed slightly in the enclosed space, but still cast enough light to read by.
The tiger watched Liam with eyes that suggested he was wondering why the small human was staring at water instead of drinking it.
Because I'm having an existential crisis, Big Blue. Give me a minute.
Fenrir whined. Still pinned under Lumos's paw.
Right. Testing. Science. Figure out how the magic works before something eats you.
Liam had burned through his aura reserves twice already today. The "Star Mark"—he'd workshop the name later—consumed energy on activation. Once the mark was placed, controlling the target ran on their energy, not his.
Which meant his three-year-old body, with its nonexistent physical training and heart condition borrowed from a cosmic clearance sale, had the magical stamina of a wet napkin.
One successful mark and I'm tapped out. Need to make every shot count.
He studied the rose-gold pentagram inside Fenrir's ear.
How do I remove it?
Liam reached out. Touched the mark with his fingertip.
The pentagram vanished.
Fenrir screamed.
Lumos roared.
The tiger launched over Liam's head in a blur of glowing blue muscle and slammed Fenrir into the floor hard enough to crack linoleum. Four paws pinned the wolf flat. Lumos's teeth—each one the size of Liam's forearm—hovered centimeters from Fenrir's throat.
"Whoa! Lumos, stand down!" Liam scrambled forward. Patted Lumos's foreleg. "It's fine! I'm testing! Science!"
Lumos growled but didn't bite. Just held Fenrir immobile with the casual strength of a creature who understood his place in the food chain.
"Thanks for the backup," Liam muttered. He patted Fenrir's head. "Stop screaming. You're fine. Mostly."
Okay. Can remove marks. Good to know. Now for the real questions.
His aura reserves were nearly empty. Testing had to be efficient. Prioritize.
What are the exact conditions for Star Mark?
Liam pulled off his oversized suit jacket. Draped it over Fenrir's back. Plucked a hair from his head. Placed it on the fabric. Closed his eyes. Focused.
The hair twisted into a five-pointed star. Pressed against the cloth.
Nothing happened.
Failed. Not enough contact? Or—
He removed the jacket. Tried again. This time he let the hair-star touch Fenrir's fur but didn't press it against skin.
Nothing.
So it needs skin contact. Can't activate through clothing.
Third attempt: hair-star directly on bare skin. Aura coating it.
White light flashed. Rose-gold pentagram burned into existence.
Success.
Liam nodded. "Three conditions. One: pentagram symbol. Two: direct skin contact—no clothes. Three: my aura has to be present. All three at once, or it's a bust."
He wanted to test more, but his stomach was trying to digest itself.
Liam grabbed emergency rations from the galley. Compressed biscuits. Chocolate bars. A small cake that looked like it had survived three wars and a flood. Given the dead gangsters on shore, expiration dates weren't a concern.
He found clothes too—pants and a shirt meant for adults. Rolled the legs and sleeves until they resembled something wearable. Tied a rope around his waist to keep the pants from falling off.
"Want some?" Liam offered Lumos the cake.
The tiger shook his head. Pushed the cake back toward Liam with one massive paw.
Surprisingly polite for a glowing murder machine.
Liam devoured the food. Between bites, he grabbed the soggy newspaper from earlier.
Couldn't read the script. But pictures were universal. And numbers—thank god—transcended language barriers.
Front page. Date stamp: 1994-11-29.
November 1994. Hunter calendar.
The protagonist—Gon Freecss, twelve-year-old ball of sunshine and terrifying potential—wouldn't leave Whale Island for the Hunter Exam until January 1999.
Four years. I've got four years before canon starts.
His eyes landed on a photo. Two men shaking hands. Political event. Staged smiles. One of them was fat. Shrewd-looking despite the friendly expression. Familiar.
That's... oh no.
King Nasubi Hui Guo Rou. Of the Kakin Empire.
The same Kakin Empire that would later host the Dark Continent Expedition. The succession war. The Black Whale. Where Togashi's text-to-panel ratio became a war crime and Liam had given up reading because his brain started bleeding.
I'm in Kakin. I'm in the most politically unstable empire in the HxH world. Where princes murder each other for a throne and Nen beasts eat people for breakfast.
Liam threw the newspaper down.
Thought about the Chimera Ant arc. About Meruem. About Netero's nuke. About how casual genocide became in this universe.
Nope. Not thinking about that. One crisis at a time.
He looked at Fenrir.
The wolf had been dying earlier. Half-dead from the pack attack. Throat torn. Bleeding out.
Now? Barely a scratch visible.
Wait.
Liam circled the wolf. Studied him from every angle.
The wounds are gone. Completely healed.
Enhanced recovery from being a wild animal? Or—
Or it's the mark.
"Lumos." Liam pointed at Fenrir. "I need you to hurt him. Just a little."
Lumos didn't hesitate.
One massive paw extended. Claws out. Swipe.
Fenrir's neck opened in a spray of crimson. The wolf screamed. Lumos held him down with the other three paws, indifferent to the thrashing.
Liam crouched at safe distance. Watched.
The wound bled. Soaked the fur. But didn't close.
So it's not automatic.
He dipped his fingers in wolf blood. Parted the fur on Fenrir's exposed belly. Drew a shaky pentagram directly on skin.
Then gathered the dregs of his aura—so tired, so empty—and pressed his palm over the blood-star.
White light pulsed.
Rose-gold mark appeared.
The neck wound began to heal. Flesh knitted together. Fur regrew. Within thirty seconds, only matted blood remained as evidence.
Holy shit.
His Manipulation ability—designed to control targets—had a passive healing effect.
Not complaining. But that's weird.
Liam's mind raced. If marked targets healed...
Can I mark myself?
He dipped his fingers in the remaining blood. Turned his back to Lumos. Used Fenrir's perspective—third-person view, perfect angle—to paint a pentagram on the back of his own neck.
Last stroke. Aura surge. White flash.
Rose-gold star burned into his skin.
Liam gasped. The chronic ache in his chest—that cold-hot wrongness that had plagued him since waking—dulled slightly.
Self-healing. And—
Insurance.
In the HxH world, Manipulators had a rule: first strike wins. If another Manipulator marked you first, you were done. No escape. No counter.
But if Liam marked himself first...
I'm already manipulated. By me. Other Manipulators can't override it.
He laughed. The absurdity of it—surviving wolves, befriending a tiger, unlocking superpowers, marking himself to prevent future mind control—
This world is insane. This world is so... so interesting!
BANG.
Gunshot. Distant but clear. Echoing across the water through the quiet night.
Liam froze.
More gangsters? Survivors nearby?
Then that sensation returned—cold-and-hot, drilling deep into his heart. The same feeling from when he'd first woken under corpses. When the wolves had died.
Another death.
Liam's eyes went black for a while, and he fell softly in the direction of the fluorescent tiger...