As expected, searching "Ochima Federation," "Ghost Island," "ghosts," and "supernatural" returned exactly what Liam anticipated: a mess of local folklore, urban legends, and the occasional "true story" that was definitely written by someone's conspiracy-theorist uncle.
But what caught his attention wasn't the content—it was the timeline.
The reports weren't clustered. There was no sudden spike in sightings, no "summer of 1987 when everything went wrong" pattern. Instead, the incidents were scattered across decades. A missing hiker in 1975. Strange lights in 1981. A "pale child" sighting in 1989. Another disappearance in 1992.
Consistent. Low-grade. Persistent.
Rumors might be bullshit, Liam thought, scrolling through the results. But in the Hunter x Hunter world, rumors are usually just Nen with bad PR.
The pale figure he'd seen in the woods—the one that had vanished the moment he'd blinked—suddenly felt a lot less like sleep deprivation and a lot more like a problem.
"Huh. That's weird," Menchi muttered, leaning over his shoulder and squinting at the screen.
Liam glanced up. "What's weird?"
"Just... nothing. Some of these dates, I guess." She frowned, but didn't elaborate.
Liam filed that away for later. "So what's the deal with Blanchett Company? The one managing the Misery Moon Tiger Reserve?"
Menchi straightened, looking confused by the question. "What do you mean, 'what's the deal?' They run the reserve. That's the deal. They're in charge of conservation, tourism management, all that stuff."
"And the amusement park?" Liam pressed.
"That too. Blanchett's huge. Like, world-class conglomerate huge."
Liam's eye twitched. "How do you even pronounce that? Blan-chett? Blan-shet?"
"Blanchett," Menchi said, enunciating carefully. "Like the surname. You know, French-sounding? Why are you—"
"Here. You search it." Liam scooted his chair back, gesturing at the keyboard. "I want to see this."
Menchi gave him a suspicious look but sat down anyway. Her fingers flew across the keyboard—fast, confident, the kind of typing that came from someone who'd spent way too much time researching food blogs.
The search results loaded.
Blanchett Company
Also known as: Blanchett Entertainment Group
Founded: 1987 by Alain Dreyfus Blanchett
Industries: Film & Television Production, Media Networks, Theme Parks, Amusement Facilities, Wildlife Conservation, Cultural Heritage Preservation
Notable Assets: VidStream (world's largest online video platform), 47 theme parks across 6 continents, 200+ wildlife reserves
Total Assets (1994): ₵12,916.6 billion Jenny
Liam stared at the screen.
His brain did the math. Twelve trillion Jenny. Founded in 1987. That was less than eight years ago.
This motherfucker made twelve trillion dollars in eight years.
"You've got to be kidding me," he said aloud.
Menchi glanced at him. "What?"
"Nothing. Just—" Liam reached over and clicked on the founder's name before his brain could fully process the existential horror of someone accumulating that much wealth in less than a decade.
The new page loaded.
Alain Dreyfus Blanchett
Professional Hunter (License #[RESTRICTED])
Hunter Association Member
Ranked #5 on World's Richest People List (1994)
Industries: Entertainment, Conservation, Media
Known For: "Revolutionizing family entertainment and wildlife preservation through integrated business models"
Of course he's a Hunter, Liam thought, exhaling slowly. Of course he is. Why wouldn't the guy who built a corporate empire in eight years have superhuman powers?
But that actually made it make sense. In this world, at least half of the top 100 wealthiest people were professional Hunters. When you had a license that gave you access to restricted areas, corporate-level financing, and legal immunity—plus literal superpowers—building a multi-trillion-Jenny empire was probably just Tuesday.
Still though, Liam thought, staring at the screen. Twelve trillion in eight years. That's not just being a Hunter. That's being a Hunter with the business acumen of a sociopath and the luck of a lottery winner who keeps winning.
Menchi was still scrolling, reading aloud. "Oh, this is interesting. It says here that Blanchett Company's theme parks are designed around 'immersive fantasy experiences that blend cutting-edge technology with natural environments.' And their mascot is—"
She clicked on an image.
A cartoon elf appeared on screen. Big eyes, pointy ears, holding a magic wand. The kind of aggressively wholesome character design that made you want to buy merchandise against your will.
Liam's brain made a connection.
Wait.
Theme parks. Family entertainment. Wildlife conservation as a PR angle. Cartoon mascots. Global brand recognition. Founded by one guy who turned it into an empire.
This is Disney.
This is literally just Disney.
Ghost Island = Disneyland.
Blanchett = Walt Disney.
I'm in the Hunter x Hunter version of Disneyland.
He wanted to laugh. Or scream. Or both.
"You okay?" Menchi asked, noticing his expression.
"Yeah. Fine. Just realized something."
"What?"
"Nothing important." Liam waved her off. "Keep reading."
But internally, he was spiraling. Because if this was the HxH equivalent of Disney, then that meant—
Corporate-sponsored conservation efforts. Endangered animals as tourist attractions. An amusement park built on top of local ghost stories.
Of course there's something wrong with this place. Of course there are pale children in the woods. Disney's always haunted. That's, like, a universal constant.
Menchi was still talking. "—says that Blanchett himself is rarely seen in public. There are rumors he's working on some kind of secret project, but no one knows what—"
Liam tuned her out. He glanced at the window. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. The amusement park outside looked almost peaceful in the fading light—fewer crowds, softer sounds, the kind of scene that would look great on a postcard.
Picturesque, he thought. Right up until the Nen beasts show up.
"—my teacher mentioned this guy once," Menchi continued, pointing at Blanchett's name on the screen. "Apparently he's—"
Liam was already gone.
Menchi blinked. She turned her head. The chair next to her was empty. The gray bird was gone.
When did he—
She hadn't heard him leave. Hadn't felt him leave. One second he was there, the next he'd vanished like smoke.
Zetsu, she realized. He used Zetsu and just walked out while I was distracted.
She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, staring at the computer screen.
Her teacher's words echoed in her head. They'd been standing outside the reserve, watching the cleanup crew haul away the poachers' bodies. Garo had been conscious by then—barely—and her teacher had pointed at him.
"If you'd faced him alone, you'd be dead right now. Don't be impulsive. Don't run off by yourself. You have the license, but you're not ready. And that's partly my fault."
Menchi had wanted to argue. To insist she could handle herself.
But watching that kid casually stroll through town after taking down five Nen users in three minutes?
I'm not ready, she admitted to herself. Not even close.
Her identity was still stuck in "chef." "Gourmet Hunter." She thought about food, technique, flavor profiles. Not combat. Not survival.
That needs to change.
She closed the browser window and stood up, heading for the exit.
Time to actually train.
Liam bought a bag of birdseed from a pet supply shop—overpriced, of course, because everything in a tourist trap was overpriced—and then grabbed dinner at a small restaurant two streets over. Nothing fancy. Just fried fish, rice, and some kind of vegetable stir-fry that tasted like it had been sitting under a heat lamp for three hours.
He'd half-expected Menchi to track him down again. She'd done it once already, after all. But she didn't show.
Guess I finally annoyed her enough to give up, Liam thought, chewing his fish. Good. I don't need a teenage Hunter following me around asking awkward questions about my fraudulent license.
Jaku sat on the table, pecking at a small pile of rice he'd put out for her. She made happy little chirping sounds between bites, which was the closest she ever got to gratitude.
After dinner, Liam wandered through the park for a while, letting the evening breeze cool him down. The crowds had thinned. Families were heading home. The remaining visitors were mostly couples or groups of teenagers, laughing and shouting as they ran between attractions.
Normal people, he thought. Doing normal things.
It felt surreal.
Eventually, he found a small hotel—the kind with peeling paint and a front desk clerk who looked like he'd rather be anywhere else. Liam paid for a single night with cash, ignored the clerk's judgmental stare, and headed upstairs.
The room was small. One bed, one window, a bathroom that smelled faintly of mildew. But it had running water, a lock on the door, and a mattress that wasn't the forest floor.
Five-star accommodations, Liam thought dryly, flopping onto the bed.
Jaku fluttered in through the open window and landed on his chest. She shuffled around, pecking at his shirt buttons, then settled down with a content chirp.
Moonlight slanted through the window, cutting the room in half. Liam lay there, one leg crossed over the other, staring at the ceiling.
And for the first time in days, he felt lonely.
It hit him like a punch to the gut. Just this sudden, overwhelming sense of emptiness, like there was a hollow space inside his chest where something important used to be.
What the hell?
He'd been fine in the woods. Fine when he was fighting poachers. Fine when he was training, bleeding, nearly dying. But now, lying in a cheap hotel room in the middle of a tourist town, surrounded by the distant sounds of normal human life—
Now he felt alone.
"Is it because Lumos isn't here?" he muttered to himself.
That... actually made sense. He'd gotten used to the tiger's presence. The weight of him. The way he'd curl up nearby at night, radiating warmth like a living furnace. The sense of someone else being there, even if that someone was an apex predator.
I've been in this world for less than a week, Liam thought. And I've already bonded with a giant murder cat. What does that say about me?
Probably nothing good.
He tried to push the feeling away, but it clung to him like static. That sense of wrongness. Like he didn't belong here. Like he was a ghost haunting his own life.
Stop it, he told himself. Stop thinking about it. The past is the past. Let it go.
But the thoughts kept spiraling.
He focused on the Star Marks instead. Tried to sense them. Lumos didn't have an active mark—Liam had deliberately left it dormant, since he didn't want to control the tiger unnecessarily. But the two white birds following Lumos? Those were active.
He reached out with his awareness, feeling for them.
There.
About fifteen kilometers away, toward the middle of the eastern coastline. One bird was moving—probably circling overhead. The other was stationary.
Lumos is hunting, Liam guessed. Or sleeping. Or both.
The thought was oddly comforting. At least someone in his weird little found family was having a good time.
Jaku stumbled on his chest, lost her balance, flapped her wings frantically, and rolled sideways. She flailed for a second, then righted herself with an indignant chirp.
Liam couldn't help it. He laughed.
It was a short, surprised sound—barely more than a huff—but it broke the tension. He reached up and gently pushed her with one finger. She pecked his hand in retaliation, but without any real malice.
Okay, he thought. Maybe I'm not completely alone.
He got up, walked to the window, and looked out at the crescent moon hanging in the sky.
I need a goal, he realized. That's the problem. I've been in survival mode since I got here. Fight, run, train, repeat. But I haven't actually thought about what I'm doing with this second life.
Menchi had a goal. She was a Gourmet Hunter. She wanted to find and cook the world's most delicious foods. Simple. Clear. Achievable.
There were all kinds of Hunters in this world. Crime Hunters who tracked down criminals. Lost Item Hunters who recovered stolen treasures. Beast Hunters who studied and protected rare animals. Hacker Hunters who broke into secure systems. Even Bounty Hunters who just killed people for money.
What about me?
The question sat in his chest, heavy and uncomfortable.
He thought about Ging Freecss—Gon's deadbeat dad from the manga. The guy had said something once that stuck with Liam, even though he'd only read the series once, years ago.
"What I want hasn't changed. It's always been 'something' that's not in front of me. I don't really care if I actually get it. The important thing is what I gain along the way."
At the time, Liam had thought it was typical shonen protagonist nonsense. The "journey matters more than the destination" cliché, dressed up in vaguely philosophical language.
But now?
Now I get it, he thought. Because if the destination is impossible, then the journey is all you have.
He raised his hand, palm up, and released a thin thread of aura. It pooled in his palm—invisible to normal people, but to him it looked like liquid light. He shaped it idly, watching it swirl.
"Just pick a goal that's impossible," he said aloud. "That way, I can spend my whole life chasing it and never have time to think about anything else."
Jaku tilted her head, watching him.
"Tell me," Liam said, grinning despite himself. "Is this a stupid idea?"
She chirped.
"Yeah. Probably." He closed his fist, dispelling the aura. "But here's the thing: if supernatural power exists—if Nen is real, if people can punch through concrete and manipulate minds and defy the laws of physics—then why not aim for the impossible?"
His eyes narrowed, focused on something only he could see.
"Immortality," he said. "True immortality. Not just living a long time. Not just avoiding death through luck or skill. I mean becoming something that can't die. Ever. No matter what."
It was insane. He knew it was insane.
But it was also perfect. Because it was a goal big enough to fill the emptiness. A goal that would take decades, maybe centuries, to even approach. A goal that would force him to grow stronger, smarter, more creative with his abilities.
A goal that would justify everything he'd gone through to get here.
"Eternal, undying, beyond mortality," he murmured, still staring at his hand. "That's the goal."
Jaku pecked his arm, as if to say, You're being dramatic again.
Liam laughed. "Yeah, yeah. I know. But—"
A Star Mark activated.
Not just active—it went from dormant to active in a sudden, sharp spike that made Liam's breath catch.
The two green birds. The ones stationed at the cruise ship on the northern coast.
Someone's approaching the ship.
Liam's amusement evaporated. He moved to the window, closed it, locked it. Then he sat back down on the bed, closed his eyes, and switched control modes.
His consciousness shifted.
One moment, he was Liam, sitting in a cheap hotel room.
The next, he was two birds, perched on the rusted railing of a half-sunken cruise ship, staring down at the beach below.