The sea breeze carried a sharp, salty tang. White-capped waves collided with the shore, shattering into a million shimmering points of light under the midday sun. It was a cool, rhythmic breath against the skin.
Pariston Hill loosened his tie, then pulled it off with a casual flick.
He stood comfortably on the edge of the deserted pier, his expensive, slim-cut suit jacket draped over one arm and a sleek suitcase resting at his feet. He looked less like an explorer and more like an executive waiting for a taxi on a busy city corner. He stared at the horizon with infinite patience. He had been chasing this lead for six months, and though he wasn't one for obsessive focus, he found he didn't mind the wait when the scenery was this pleasant.
Eventually, the silence of the coast was broken by the low thrum of an engine and the sound of a prow cutting through the swells. A small, weathered fishing boat rounded the bend.
The vessel pulled up to the dock, and a middle-aged man stepped out. He wore a battered fisherman's hat over a face of deep, sun-baked wrinkles. His skin was a dark, ruddy brown, and his beard looked as though it hadn't seen fresh water in a decade.
The captain sized up the blond man—who looked like he belonged in a high-rise office—and spat a glob of phlegm into the sea. "You the one lookin' to head out?" he asked in a voice like grinding gravel.
Pariston flashed a bright, easy smile. "That's me."
With the grace of a man taking a light stroll, he stepped onto the deck, his balance perfect despite the swaying of the boat. The captain's eyes sharpened; he recognized the movement of someone with hidden skill.
"The water out here isn't kind," the captain grunted. "Not easy to navigate these parts."
"I'm aware," Pariston said, setting his suitcase on the deck as he walked toward the cabin. "That's why I bought the boat."
"Bought it?" the captain asked, confused.
Pariston clicked the suitcase open. The scent of fresh, high-denomination banknotes wafted out, making the old man's heart skip a beat. The case was packed with tight stacks of cash—hundreds of millions of Jenny, by a quick visual estimate.
"My boat isn't worth half that!" the captain barked, slamming the lid shut as if the sight of so much money burned. He straightened his neck defensively.
"The extra is for tuition," Pariston replied, stepping into the wheelhouse and gripping the rudder with genuine interest. "Don't worry. I'm a very fast learner."
The captain followed him in, his voice rising in protest. "How fast? The sea is a fickle bitch. It gets worse by the minute out there. Sailing the ship is the easy part! If you hit a gale or a sea monster takes a liking to your hull, you'll be dead before you realize you're lost. A city kid like you wouldn't last three days without fresh water and a compass."
Pariston didn't look annoyed. He just kept smiling at the undulating horizon.
"It'll be fine," he said softly. "I'm quite lucky. I find that I usually reach wherever I decide to go."
"Liam, do you really want to absorb more death energy to make your body grow?"
Faced with Kurapika's blunt accusation, Liam let out a dramatic gasp. "Slander! Absolute slander! I'll see you in court for this!"
Kurapika ignored the theatrics. "Think about it, Liam. Why would someone in your position choose to go to the Heavens Arena? It's a magnet for every fighter and bloodthirsty enthusiast on the planet. It's a monument to combat. Even below the 200th floor, thousands of matches happen every day. Even if the fatality rate is only one percent, that's a constant stream of casualties. For you, it's a minefield."
He leaned in, his gaze piercing. "If someone dies on the first floor while you're on the fiftieth, you're still within range. You can't predict it. You can't control it. And you can't stop the absorption."
Liam sat amidst the wreckage of his opened gift boxes and raised a hand. "I can prove my innocence. We weren't there twenty-four hours a day, Kurapika. We went in, did our matches, and left. We were in the building for maybe an hour at a time."
Shizuku, sitting cross-legged beside him, nodded in solemn agreement.
"That's exactly the point," Kurapika countered. "If your heart hits a tipping point, your body undergoes a qualitative change. You could go from looking fourteen to looking forty in the blink of an eye. You're gambling with decades of your life."
"You're not listening! I have plans!" Liam grumbled. "What are the odds that someone happens to die in a specific window of time while I'm there? If I worried about everything, I'd never leave the house. A car could hit a pedestrian right in front of me while I'm buying groceries. Do you think I spend my weekends hanging out in hospitals or slaughterhouses?"
He wagged an index finger. "I'm prepared, buddy. Trust me."
"If your body ages to forty uncontrollably," Kurapika said calmly, "you've lost twenty years of potential. To me, even an hour a day in a high-risk zone is an unbearable gamble. Who knowingly walks into a place that could cost them their life, regardless of the probability?"
To Kurapika, Liam's behavior felt like a contradiction. Liam acted as though he was taking precautions, but deep down, it seemed like he wanted the energy. He wanted to "ripen," to reach a physical maturity that matched the age he felt inside.
Kurapika studied him. Unless Liam's sense of self was fundamentally different from his physical age...
"Fine, maybe you're right," Liam sighed, relenting. "Maybe a part of me does want to grow up again. But look, I made a deal with Shizuku. If the energy pushes me past thirty and I haven't found a permanent fix, I'll stop everything and solve it. I feel like I've got plenty of buffer room until then, so I'm not panicking. I'm not a psychologist, Kurapika. I just... don't feel the rush."
Shizuku nodded again. Liam had made that promise to her, and she held him to it.
Kurapika caught the slip in Liam's words. "If you can't solve it, you'll definitely find a way? That implies you already have a solution you're holding in reserve. A last resort you're afraid to use."
Snap.
Liam snapped his fingers. "Bingo."
The solution was Alluka. If Nanika could restore a half-dead, burnt-out Gon to his original state, fixing a heart condition would be child's play. But getting to Alluka meant dealing with the Zoldycks' deepest, most dangerous secret. That was the "end of the rope" plan—the one he'd only use when he had nothing left to lose.
Shizuku spoke up. "That's why I want to go to the Dark Continent."
Kurapika turned to her, surprised.
"Nitro Rice," she said simply. "You didn't think we were looking for longevity rice just for your sake, did you?"
Kurapika's mind immediately bridged the gap. If Liam was losing his lifespan to rapid aging, the longevity rice from the Dark Continent was the perfect countermeasure. It wasn't a "last resort" like Alluka—it was a tangible goal.
"Shizuku, you have a sharp tongue," Liam teased, a smile playing on his lips.
Shizuku looked confused. "How is that a sharp tongue? It's just the truth."
Watching them bicker, Kurapika wondered if Liam's subconscious desire to age was tied to his relationship with Shizuku.
"So," Kurapika said, shifting the focus, "the True Martial King's treasure. You think it's more than just gold?"
"Exactly!" Liam slapped his knee. "If the King left statues across the continents, they might be like the one in Kakin. Time capsules for things from the Dark Continent. Nitro Rice. If the Old King was as generous as they say, he wouldn't leave us empty-handed."
He patted his pockets. "And wouldn't you know it? The map is right here."
Liam tore open the envelope and pulled out a sheet of antique-looking parchment. He spread it on the floor.
Shizuku leaned over it. "A world map?"
The map was ancient, but the continents it depicted were identical to the ones on any modern globe. The scale looked off, and there were no markings of hidden gold.
Liam blinked. "Looks like we need some high-tech help. Suzaku, take a look."
"It needs to be activated," Kurapika said. He rolled up his sleeves, showing the two lines of divine script on his forearms. They were fading, the ink wearing away with the natural shedding of his skin. The script was a delicate circuit; if even one character was broken, it failed.
"I'll get a pen—" Liam started, but Shizuku beat him to it.
She summoned a set of jade pendants from Blinky—a gift from the mobster hoard. "Let's use these. They won't wear off like skin."
"Perfect," Liam said.
For the next ten minutes, the three of them worked in silence. Kurapika led the way, condensing his aura into his fingertips to etch the divine script onto the flat surfaces of the jade. Shizuku followed Liam's lead, carefully mirroring his strokes.
When they finished, they each held a jade charm imbued with the script. Liam flooded his pendant with aura and looked at the parchment.
Suddenly, the rough map cleared. The "clouds" of the ink seemed to part, revealing vibrant white spots of light scattered across the six continents.
"Are there really that many?" Shizuku whispered.
Liam thought of the Kakin agents he'd duped earlier. "Those aren't just treasures," he said. "They're national monuments."
"The statues," Kurapika added.
"Pack your bags," Liam said, pressing his hand onto the light spot closest to their current location. "We set off tomorrow. Let's see what the Old King left for us."
Before they turned in for the night, Kurapika caught Liam in the hallway. "Liam, why do you think this energy is in your heart to begin with?"
Liam paused, his hand hovering over his chest. "When it first appeared... the body of my biological mother was right there next to me."
The weight of the statement hit Kurapika like a physical blow. A corpse? His mother?
Liam just gave a small, tired wave and disappeared into his room.
That night, Liam lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Kurapika was right. Part of him did want to grow. He had Alluka as a safety net, and as a transmigrator, he felt entitled to a "cheat" ability. This heart felt like a gift—a standard protagonist's power-up. If he used it enough, maybe it would become something he could truly master.
But deeper down, there was a darker urge. A lingering, self-destructive streak that came with being a soul in a world that wasn't his own.
"Liam."
He heard bare feet on the floor. He turned to see Shizuku standing by his bed, clutching a pillow.
"Can we sleep together?" she asked.
Liam smiled, taking her pillow and making room. He pulled her into a hug, the chaos of his thoughts finally quieting down.
The next day, the trio followed the map to the nearest light spot. It led them into a desolate mountain range, to a hollowed-out clearing that looked completely ordinary. No statue. No gold. Just a bare rock face.
They looked at each other, then pulled out their jade pendants. They focused their aura, activating the divine script and focusing their vision on the stone wall.
Faint, circular black runes began to emerge from the rock, pulsating with a rhythmic light.
The world suddenly blurred. The salty sea breeze hit Liam's face. He heard the crash of waves.
Liam opened his eyes and found himself lying on a foreign shore, staring at an endless ocean.
"Old King," Liam grumbled, pushing himself up, "I hope you had a chaotic afterlife, because this is ridiculous."
He looked around at the empty horizon. "And where the hell am I?"