Chapter 13: The Truth Revealed—Lidor’s Intentions

“I can only repeat my advice,” Buno says, his tone sharp and serious. “Never reveal this Hatsu to anyone—not until you’ve earned some prestige and real experience. Your ability is rare enough to get you captured and turned into a slave, replacing doctors altogether. Rich, powerful individuals with incurable diseases would do anything to save themselves and prolong their lives. I can’t even see where the limits of your ability lie. If you survive your Master’s ‘test’, we’ll meet again in two years. We’ll talk more, and I expect you to fully restore my hands as a gesture of thanks. Consider survival your final test.”“Sure,” Auren replies with a grin.

“This little experiment proved useful,” Bunu adds, stepping forward. “Some of Buno’s old wounds were healed, but it still seems like your ability relies heavily on the target’s own body. It’s a strange fusion—part practical and ordinary, part completely illogical. That being said, it opens a path for you to train your poison resistance even more efficiently. Use double the dosage we noted. When you can’t take it anymore, use your ability to recover. Then raise the amount slowly. We’ve packed enough for years of training... and who knows, maybe you’ll find other uses for the rest,” he says with a chuckle.

Buno grins as well. “You’ll be able to advance a lot faster that way. Just keep in mind—it takes a long time to build up immunity. Most people are extremely vulnerable to these poisons. That includes certain Elders,” he adds with a smirk.

The poison… Yes. I can use that for my plan. But I’ll need to achieve full immunity, or at least a strong enough resistance, before I can use it freely.

“We’ll come back exactly two years from now,” Buno says. “And hopefully, by then, your ‘Master’ will be out of the picture.”

“We won’t step in directly,” Bunu continues, “but if you handle the situation on your own, I can guarantee you protection from the Elders. That’s the reason we’ll stay hands-off. Now, tell us your name. We’ll remember it.”

“No need,” Auren replies calmly. “I’ll tell you in two years. There’s no point in remembering the name of someone living on borrowed time.”

They both laugh as they turn to leave. “Good luck then, kid!”

Auren smiles quietly. He walks out of the shed after them, scanning the area. By sheer coincidence, he sees Buno dropping a stack of bills, which he quickly picks up.

Thank you! That will be useful!

He spots No. 4 and No. 6 off in the distance, going through their training drills as they approach Buno and Bunu to say their goodbyes.

With no one else around, Auren takes the opportunity. He moves quickly and silently, slipping into the Manor. Inside his room, he lifts a loose wooden floor tile under his bed. Inside the hidden compartment, a few chocolate bars and snacks are stashed—leftovers from special occasions.

He carefully places the poison bag into a far corner, pressing it deep so it can’t be seen easily. Then, he fits a wooden piece in front to cover it completely, while leaving the snacks clearly visible.

Auren’s days begin to shift quickly. The mansion grows emptier with each passing day, as more and more employees and servants disappear. With Buno and Bunu gone, the eight remaining students are left mostly on their own.

Deciding to trust his instructors, Auren dutifully ingests the various poisons, using exactly double the dosage written down in the notebook.

He forces himself to endure it, relying on Azure Restoration only when the pain becomes truly unbearable. Even the evenings are agonizing, and Auren appears visibly worn out, exhaustion clear on his face.

During breakfast, No. 4—now a fairly tall boy with some visible muscle—loudly remarks, “This is depressing. Feels like a ghost house. Even No. 23 looks sick and exhausted.”

“Shut up and eat,” No. 6, his female training partner, responds, before adding, “But yeah, I agree. This place feels really empty. The atmosphere is just… weird.”

I should speak up. Otherwise I’ll seem like a complete outsider.

“Master really caught us off guard, huh? I actually agree with you, No. 4. I’m tired too—feels like most of my efforts have been for nothing. All that physical training suddenly means nothing, and now I’m behind in other things that I should have focused on. Honestly, I think the contest is completely even from this point forward. Everyone knows the rules by now, and we’ve all adjusted our training accordingly,” Auren says.

“Huh? What do you mean, No. 23?!” No. 22 asks, clearly confused.

No. 1 and No. 3 also glance at Auren, their expressions surprised. No. 7 chimes in next.

“You guys really haven’t figured it out? Pathetic,” he says. “No. 23’s right. Ever since the condition was revealed, everyone’s stopped caring about anything except Ren training. Master seems to dismiss whoever is the weakest in terms of Aura. Heh… I almost feel bad for you, No. 23. All that effort with the instructors, all that insane boulder training—what a waste.”

“I won’t deny what you’re saying,” Auren replies, keeping calm. “But all your studying seems pretty useless now too, doesn’t it?”

No. 7 clicks his tongue in annoyance. “Yeah… I guess only dumbasses like No. 22 actually benefited from the reveal.”

“What do you mean? Fuck you!” No. 22 yells, his face red with anger.

No. 24 finally speaks. “Might as well lay it out for everyone. What No. 23 and No. 7 are suggesting is that No. 2 was one of the most talented among us—except for one thing. Aura. So now everyone assumes physical strength, test scores, even swordsmanship, are all secondary. What really matters is Nen.”

“Are you serious?!” No. 1 and No. 22 shout in unison.

No. 22 suddenly grins. “Heh. Guess I’ve already won, then. Just don’t try anything desperate. Master will punish you.”

Auren remains calm, suppressing the urge to smile or even move his lips. The others, however, are clearly angry and frustrated. No. 22 is one of the weakest students in almost everything—except Nen, where his talent is undeniable.

While everyone glares at No. 22 with barely restrained hatred, Auren quietly slips out of the dining hall.

No time to waste… Good thing that idiot pulled all the attention to himself. I need to avoid pointless conflicts with the others. If we end up fighting, it’s only to my disadvantage. Even if I win and seriously injure someone, I’ll be punished. Worst case… I die. If they figure out what I already know, everything could fall apart. Best to play it safe. I’ll act like I’m just barely ahead. I decided not to escape with my life, but to play this game and win! Sacrifices are necessary.

I’m clearly leading in Aura. No. 22 and No. 24 might try to close the gap, but if I stay consistent, they won’t catch up. I need to keep training. Swordsmanship, physical strength, advanced Nen techniques, both of my Hatsus, and the basics—they’re all equally important. There’s no need to specialize. I can skip Saturday class to train Aura instead, and I’ll still stay ahead of No. 4, No. 6, No. 1, and No. 22 in terms of studying. At this point, only No. 24 and No. 7 are ahead of me.

Despite his daily suffering, Auren continues his poison regimen, pushing himself to the very edge every single night. After just nine months, even after taking five times the initially recommended dose, he feels barely any effect. He’s achieved a reliable immunity to every poison his instructors provided—at least to a functional degree, without consuming huge amounts.

Just as Auren expected, No. 1, No. 7, and No. 3—who is too young to compete fairly—are eliminated next.

With each departure, Auren’s anxiety grows. His remaining time is growing shorter and shorter.

Only five students remain: No. 4, No. 6, No. 22, No. 24, and Auren himself.

Elder Lidor’s appearances become more and more infrequent. Auren rarely sees him, and when he does, the man looks exhausted, stressed, and clearly unwell. Auren has the growing sense that Lidor has lost interest in the experiment altogether—a fact that worries him deeply. Despite having the largest Aura reserves and the strongest Ren, he fears being overlooked or chosen by mistake.

Yet the most unsettling discovery is that Lidor now carries his sword with him constantly, never letting it out of his sight for even a moment.

What’s wrong with him? I’m starting to worry. His behavior is strange.

Taking advantage of Lidor’s absence, Auren activates his En and quietly begins searching the rooms once occupied by the now-dismissed servants, hoping to find any spare keys left behind.

Auren searches through a small room near the lobby, and inside, barely hidden, a set of spare keys.

Jackpot!

He quickly grabs them, then moves toward his Master’s private quarters. After checking the hallway, confirming he is alone, he easily manages to make it inside. Closing the door behind him, he flicks on the light and begins his search.

Activating his En, he scans the room. There’s nothing immediately suspicious, no strange presence, no hidden traps—just silence and dust. He continues searching with his hands, sifting through shelves of old books. Some of them contain bizarre rituals, and several bear strange symbols Auren recognizes as being connected to Nen. To his frustration, the writing is in an unfamiliar script—he can’t understand a word of it.

Those seem rare and expensive… I need to remember about them, but they don’t help me in my current situation.

Finally, he comes across a small notebook resting on the Elder’s desk.

As he flips through it, Auren’s eyes widen in shock—it’s a diary. His Master’s diary.

He starts skimming through the entries at random.

“October 1986”

More than three years before this all began!

“Project Aion, Third Cycle. Day 180. Four subjects remaining. The sword is not showing any visible signs of change. Noticing a slight increase in residual Aura.”

What?!

“Project Aion, Third Cycle. Day 270.

Last subject sacrificed today. Sword shows a visible increase in Aura, but absolutely no trace of absorbed life force. The project ended in total failure. I need to change my approach, as more data doesn’t reveal new findings.”

His breath speeds up. Quickly, he skips forward to the most recent pages.

“Project Aion, Fourth Cycle. Day 1.

I’ve finally managed to find the last student. Every student is between four and eight years old and will be trained to the best of my ability. Using the old scripture, I’ve found a Nen symbol closely tied to Sacrifice. It’s a lost symbol, effect unknown—but I have no choice. I don’t know where this scripture originated, but I’m fairly sure it came from the outside. I have to gamble—this opportunity is simply too tempting. The gathered students aren’t particularly gifted-looking, nor do they seem hopeless—just 24 ordinary children. Thanks to the sale of my previous work, funds appear sufficient, even after crafting the unfinished Blade I’ve named ‘Eternity’. I didn’t hold back on Materials. Most ore used in the Blade’s forging doesn’t even have a name.

Using a special mark, embedded directly above the heart of each victim through Eternity itself, and a ritual candle, I’ve marked all the students with my new Hatsu, I gained by abandoning my old one as payment. I’ve also marked myself, establishing a direct connection to me. Each of the 24 petals of the Chrysanthemum represents a student—their individual sacrifice intended to let the flower on my own chest bloom… inside me. Once all students have been sacrificed to Eternity, I hope to absorb their life force and restore my youth. Sword training, along with raising their vitality and life force, will be the focus of this project. I need to raise their compatibility with me, I need to create my ideal young self.”

I see… so that’s what this is all about. That’s his goal. He’s failed three times already… and we’re the fourth cycle. What did he mean by “outside”…? Outside this world? The Dark Continent?!

Auren continues reading, now captivated. Elder Lidor has documented all of their training.

“Project Aion, Fourth Cycle. Year 3.

A few students show remarkable talent. No. 4 and No. 6 are rare cases. If they weren’t destined to be sacrifices, they could become powerful Nen users. No. 23 and No. 24 appear to be on another level entirely—true rarities. Perhaps one in a million talents. It’s almost unnatural how many gifted students I’ve found this time. I fear the other Elders may have secretly helped me—it looks like my experiments have drawn their attention. If I fail, it will reflect solely on me and my methods. Some of these brats remind me of those arrogant, sniveling idiots who now call themselves the Phantom Troupe. Disgusting spiders…. In any case, I hope that with this level of talent, they’ll be able to fuel Eternity properly.

Buno and Bunu can’t be trusted. They keep demanding more money. At this rate, the funds might run out sooner than expected. I have to think about my future steps carefully.”

Auren turns the page—straight into a more troubling entry.

No way?!