Liam and Shizuku found Kurapika and Kite on the neighboring beach.
Kite was lowering her satellite phone, her expression grim. "Still no signal. Whatever that phenomenon was, it's scrambled local communications. We'll have to find our own way out."
Kurapika had clearly been scouting the perimeter. "I've combed the shoreline. Before the black mist cleared, there might have been a trace, but now? Nothing. I haven't found a single Divine Script on these islands, except for the ones on that arrow." He gestured toward the empty sky where the colossal projectile had vanished into the clouds. "Now that it's gone, these are just ordinary rocks in the ocean. They won't be teleporting us back."
"Then we make a way," Shizuku repeated. She started toward the treeline to gather materials but paused, looking at the others with genuine curiosity. "What kind of vows did you two make to the mist earlier?"
Kite adjusted her cap. "I can conjure my aura into a raft, but with a heavy restriction: I can only conjure it exactly once."
Kurapika looked slightly surprised. "The oath I made was nearly identical. I can conjure a boat, but it too is a one-time-only creation." He pointed toward the inner cove where a small, sturdy vessel was already bobbing on the tide. "I haven't released the technique yet, so it's still holding its form. We can use it to move between the islands."
He turned his gaze back to Kite.
"I can't use mine yet," Kite admitted. "My restriction specifies that the craft can only be used to navigate the waters between these specific islands. It's useless for a long-distance voyage home."
"Was such a narrow restriction necessary?" Kurapika asked.
"For a once-in-a-lifetime conjuration? Yes. The specificity ensures it will be indestructible within those limits." Kite offered no further detail.
Kurapika finally looked at Liam.
"Mine is basically a wash," Liam said, shrugging. "I swore I could control the waters surrounding this place. It sounded powerful at the time." He walked to the water's edge and made a brief motion as if to release his aura, then pulled back with a laugh. "When I made the vow, the 'scope' of this island in my mind was that nightmare version shrouded in black fog. Now that the fog is gone, the Nen doesn't recognize this as the same place. It's a dead ability. But it doesn't matter; we shouldn't need it to leave this sea anyway."
To be safe, they decided to build a second, larger raft using natural materials.
Being Nen masters made the labor trivial. They fanned out across the grove, felling trees with singular, aura-enhanced strikes. Within minutes, a pile of massive, stripped logs lay on the sand.
Shizuku's "chainsaw" was the most efficient tool for the job, but even Liam could be surgical when he wanted to. By wrapping a simple sheet of paper in his aura—the technique of Shu—he could turn a flimsy page into a blade as sharp as a high-frequency scalpel, though it was a drain on his stamina.
"Let me handle the heavy lifting," Kite said. She extended her hand, her aura swirling into a familiar, chaotic shape. Crazy Slots materialized, the clown's head bobbing and cackling manically.
"The wheel turns! Numbers one through nine! What'll it be, what'll it be? Ha! It's a four!"
A massive sniper rifle, nearly as tall as Kite herself, extended from the clown's mouth.
Kite let out a long, weary sigh. "That number again?"
"Gyahaha! What terrible luck! Truly pathetic!" The clown's voice grated like glass on a chalkboard.
"Enough." Kite ignored the taunting. She hoisted the heavy rifle and walked toward the surf, scanning the water for something specific.
Kurapika watched, fascinated and slightly disturbed. A conjured construct that could speak was rare. Whether it was Shizuku's Blinky or his own Dolphin, his Nen constructs possessed a degree of intelligence, but they didn't hold conversations—and certainly didn't mock their users. He watched as Kite aimed carefully at the waves, hunting for a sea beast to test the rifle's kick.
Kurapika glanced at the horizon. The sun was dipping low, bleeding crimson across the water. "It's getting late. Even if we finish the raft, we'll have to spend the night here."
Crack!
Kite pulled the trigger. A high-velocity round tore through the surface of the ocean, piercing a massive sea beast hundreds of yards offshore. A geyser of green blood erupted as the bullet's trajectory carved a path through the water.
Kite adjusted her hat and sighed. "If the weapon isn't used for its intended purpose, I can't dismiss it. Truly annoying."
"Hahaha! If you hate it so much, why are you so unlucky?" the clown laughed.
"Shut up. Change the number," Kite muttered.
Kurapika felt a bead of sweat roll down his neck. If the ability was so frustrating, why would anyone train their Nen in such a chaotic direction? He turned away, noticing Liam and Shizuku sitting side-by-side on a fallen log. Liam was taking deep, rhythmic breaths, his eyes closed, looking almost... euphoric.
Kurapika froze. Wait. Liam's heart. The death energy.
He remembered Kite's kill. If she had just slaughtered a sea beast at such close range, that meant a fresh surge of death energy was currently flooding the area. Was Liam absorbing it? Was he so far gone that he was actually enjoying the sensation of his life force being corroded?
Worried that Liam had given up on his own survival, Kurapika walked over to intervene. But as he drew near, he heard Liam muttering under his breath, one hand pressed firmly against his chest.
"Not my fault... she fired the shot... nothing to do with me..."
Kurapika stopped, a mental question mark practically appearing over his head. He looked at Shizuku, expecting her to be panicked, but she had a rare, faint smile on her lips. Usually, she was more terrified of the death energy than Liam was.
Seeing their relaxed states, Kurapika felt a wave of relief. He didn't understand the mechanics, but it was clear Liam had finally found a way to bridge the gap between his life and the darkness within him.
Back at the shore, Crazy Slots spun again, landing on Number 1. The clown's mouth remained open, but nothing seemed to emerge—until Kite reached out and gripped the empty air.
Liam and the others focused their eyes. Beneath the clown's head, where a weapon should be, was a distortion in the light.
An invisible sword.
Normally, conjured objects were "real"—visible to even non-Nen users. But Kite's Number 1 was a weapon of pure aura shrouded in a permanent Inve state. She swung it through the air, the blade making a low, whistling sound as it effortlessly bisected a log lengthwise.
"We need rope," Liam said, clapping his hands to break the silence. "Shizuku, lead the way. Those Kakin soldiers back on the other island should have some high-tensile military cord on them."
"Right," Shizuku said, standing up.
Liam motioned for Kurapika to join them. He didn't explain the intricacies of Memento Mori or the specifics of his new "Panel." It wasn't a matter of trust—it was a matter of the oath itself.
"It's not that I'm keeping secrets," Liam said as the three of them rowed Kurapika's boat toward the next island. He looked at Kurapika sincerely. "It's just that explaining it to you would ruin the effect. Shizuku only knows because she was standing right there. She's a nosy eavesdropper!"
Kurapika nodded, sensing the weight of a Nen restriction, and didn't push further.
Shizuku tilted her head. Was I eavesdropping? Didn't he take my hand and lead me there? She decided not to argue.
Liam chuckled. Even if he told Kurapika the truth—that he could now "harvest" the deaths around him—a man as principled as Kurapika would never kill just to help Liam grow stronger. In fact, if Liam told him with the intent of "hinting" for more kills, it would violate the spirit of his restriction.
Nen was intuitive. Subconscious. The "intent" behind a vow was often more important than the words themselves. The ancient masters who first discovered Nen likely didn't have a manual; they found enlightenment through struggle, seeing the aura in the world during moments of absolute clarity.
Liam's intuition told him that Memento Mori required a level of personal isolation. If he turned it into a team effort, the weight of the "price" would diminish, and the ability would crumble. Shizuku was the exception—she was "self." There was nothing he couldn't share with her.
They landed on the next island and located the corpses of the Kakin privateers.
Liam had never heard of "Unsustainable People," but Shizuku had overheard them mentioning the First and Second Princes. It seemed the political rot of Kakin had followed them even here. They stripped the military-grade rope from the bodies but left the IDs and cash untouched. With a few respectful kicks, they rolled the bodies into the sea.
By the time they returned, Kite had already prepared the logs. A bonfire was crackling against the encroaching night.
Liam noticed a strange mark on a small fish flapping near the water—a five-pointed star made of aura and blood. He tossed the fish back into the sea and sat down. The raft was nearly complete. As the four of them sat around the fire, the conversation was sparse. They were all quiet by nature, and soon, they drifted off to their respective corners to rest.
Liam, however, was wide awake. The death energy from Kite's kill was humming in his chest, waiting to be used.
He closed his eyes, and the hexagonal panel flickered into view. The gray figure sat at the center, the 24,445 on its heart pulsing gently. Across its lap lay the weapon he had refined with the help of the True Martial King's lingering thoughts: the Yin Nen Sword.
Liam looked at the 100% next to Manipulation. He wasn't arrogant enough to think he had mastered the category entirely. He realized the percentages on the panel didn't represent "proficiency"—they represented Potential.
By using death energy to raise these caps, he was essentially altering his DNA. If he strengthened his weakest links—Enhancement and Transmutation—the surrounding categories would rise in tandem. Currently, both sat at 61%.
However, Liam didn't spend the energy on his stats tonight. Instead, he looked at the number 24,445.
He directed the swirling gray mist into the figure's heart.
A sudden, violent surge of aura erupted within him. It didn't simply "add" to the total; it felt like a tidal wave crashing against his internal dam.
I have to digest this, he realized, his teeth gritting. How much I keep depends on my own strength.
He entered a deep state of Ten, wrapping his skin in a tight shroud of aura to contain the pressure, then used Ren to "refine" the raw energy.
Potential was a gift, but the actual "volume" of aura was something that still required the hard work of cultivation. If he could just "buy" aura without effort, the months he and Shizuku spent exhausting themselves in daily Ken practice would have been a lie. Memento Mori removed the ceiling, but he still had to climb the stairs.
Liam focused entirely, merging the death-born energy into his own reserves bit by bit. On the panel, the numbers began to climb: 24,445... 24,500... 24,588...
He lost track of time.
When the first light of dawn touched the horizon, Kite opened her eyes. The fire had died down to white ash. She looked over to see Liam sitting cross-legged, a faint, serene smile on his face as the red sun rose behind him. He looked different—settled, as if the storm inside him had finally found its shore.
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