Chapter 8: Goodbye (Part 2)

Chapter 8: Goodbye (Part 2)

There's no such thing as an invincible Nen ability.

Orson couldn't help but recall that phrase as he stared at the bullet hole on Muse's forehead, right where the rose-gold Star Mark used to be. The Star Mark had vanished without a trace. Not even the outline of the pentagram remained—it was as if the moment it was destroyed, it had dissolved entirely, just like when Orson had once touched the mark and erased it by hand.

He examined the wound closely. There were no signs of healing. Muse's body temperature was already below that of a living person. All signs pointed to one fact: Muse was dead.

Orson vaguely remembered that when the shot rang out, while he was still half-asleep, he had sensed a familiar presence—the cold, suffocating chill of death—pierce his heart like a needle.

He didn't know how many more times his heart could bear that deathly aura… or how many years his body might inexplicably age the next time it failed to endure it.

Shaking the thoughts from his mind, Orson muttered, "When the Star Mark bearer is injured, the mark automatically activates, drawing on their Aura—or maybe something even deeper—to heal the wound. That trigger-based self-healing is strong… but if the Star Mark is destroyed, both the mark and its healing effects vanish."

In other words, if he wanted to kill someone under his control, he just had to destroy the Star Mark directly.

But… there was a catch.

The mark had to be placed on a vital area. If it were on something non-fatal—like a palm—even completely destroying that body part wouldn't kill them instantly. The healing effect would vanish, yes, but so would his control. That split second might be enough for the enemy to strike back.

As he thought through the limitations of his Nen, Orson gestured to Leo, who was still standing quietly by the doorway. The large tiger, with the rose-gold Star Mark still dormant on its side, came forward obediently. Since the mark wasn't actively triggered, the control effect wasn't in place—Leo followed because it wanted to.

The tiger padded over, grabbed Muse's corpse in its jaws, and carried it outside. Orson followed.

His wolf clone, "Orson-wolf," stayed behind to clean up the blood trails.

The sky beyond the deck was already turning pale with the first hints of dawn. A gentle sea breeze rolled across the surface.

Just as Leo prepared to drop Muse's body into the ocean, Orson said quietly, "Wait."

The tiger turned to him.

Orson dragged out a heavy object and tied it to the corpse with rope. Only then did he nod.

With a splash, Muse's body disappeared beneath the waves, weighted down, swallowed by the sea. The ocean lapped peacefully, as if nothing had happened.

Orson leaned against the railing, watching.

Maybe it was the chaos of transmigration—or the constant shocks he'd endured lately—but he realized he could handle disposing of a corpse with surprising calmness.

That was… honestly kind of impressive.

Feeling more awake now, Orson decided not to go back to bed. He headed inside to prepare for the road ahead.

A normal five-year-old body should've been sore and exhausted after everything he'd endured: fighting off wolves, taking down Muse, staying up half the night… Back in his old life, he'd have been too sore to even crawl out of bed.

But as he touched the Star Mark on the back of his neck, he realized—with its self-healing effect, he wasn't sore at all. In fact, he felt great. Better than ever.

If I use this thing for training…

He grinned. Wasn't this like carrying a portable version of Biscuit's "Miss Massager" around?

Still, he knew this place was unsafe. He couldn't afford to stay.

He made a checklist aloud:

"Rope? Check. Fuel—one bottle. Lighter. Coarse cloth. Kitchen knife. Tiger Bro, give me a boost… Great. One shovel. Fresh water. And food—just compressed biscuits. Eh, better than nothing."

Orson and his two beasts scoured the ship for supplies. There was a lot, but most of it was too bulky to carry. In the end, he took only the essentials. The tiger ended up carrying most of it, looking pitifully at him.

"The strong carry more," Orson patted Leo's big head.

He also made a quick stop in the ship's bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face. Sitting on the wolf's back, he looked in the mirror at his refreshed self.

"Let's go!"

---

The wolf and tiger leapt to shore with ease.

Standing at the bow, Orson checked that he had his Hunter License and cash. Then he looked inland.

"Hopefully I'll find a town soon… Leo, stop sightseeing and carry me."

The tiger's glowing stripes had faded in the morning light—maybe they only glowed at night. It bounded back and crouched. Orson climbed on, and the beast leapt back to shore as if it weighed nothing.

Orson pointed in the direction he'd heard the gunshot last night. Leo bolted off.

With the wolf's nose, it didn't take long to track the scent of blood. They came upon a corpse—Muse's likely victim.

Black crows squawked and scattered as they approached.

"Birds, huh… good sign."

Orson muttered as he surveyed the scene. He couldn't tell for sure if this was the original owner of the Hunter License he now carried, but it was likely. If Muse had been the hunter, then this man was probably prey.

He had the wolf carry the man's body on its back.

Then, using the ship's location for reference, Orson made his way back to where he'd first woken up.

---

Back at the tall, overgrown grass, Orson used his kitchen knife to hack it down. The wolf dragged the remaining bodies out of the brush.

Working with Leo, they tied the corpses into a circle and hauled them to the ocean's edge. One by one, they threw the bodies into the sea.

Then they wiped down the path using the coarse cloth, smudging bloodstains and disturbing footprints. Orson wasn't sure if it made a difference, but it felt like the right thing to do.

He was panting by the time they finished half the grass. Leo helped with the rest, raking his claws through it.

Next, they piled the cut grass together. Orson doused it with fuel.

He took out the lighter—but paused. Something had just occurred to him.

His Nen ability was supposed to require a Star Mark to manipulate targets. So… how was he able to control hair and blood without using a mark?

He pondered aloud, "The Four Nen Principles: Ten, Zetsu, Ren, and Hatsu. All I've really used so far is Hatsu…"

He didn't know Zetsu or Ren. His Aura sensing was unreliable. But when it came to applying his Hatsu, his unique ability? He was oddly proficient.

So I've been using manipulation without a Star Mark this whole time… That must be the flip side of my Nen type. One side is Star Mark—the branded control. The other is raw Aura manipulation—control through pure energy.

To test the theory, he wrapped Aura around the lighter. It rose slightly… then fell with a clatter. His arm drooped.

He rubbed it, understanding now:

1. Star Mark Manipulation: Big burst of Aura to activate. After that, it uses the target's energy, not his own.

2. Aura Envelopment Manipulation: Constant drain on his own Aura. The bigger the object, the more it costs.

If I keep calling my ability "Star Mark," it doesn't quite cover it anymore…

He lit the grass pile and watched the flames rise. As the fire roared, he came up with a new name:

"Song of Earth."

He tossed the cloth and lighter into the flames.

Then he had the wolf once again carry the hunter's body… and turned to the last one—the woman who was probably the birth mother of his current body.

"It doesn't feel right, just leaving you here in the open."

"You should rest in peace."

Leo carried her body.

They traveled a little further from the site. Orson had the wolf dig a grave. When the wolf got tired, Leo stepped in. It was clumsy and slow, but still faster than Orson digging by hand.

After an hour, the grave was ready. They laid the hunter's body inside, filled it, and smoothed the earth.

Then they dug a second, deeper pit in another direction.

They buried the woman there. Orson, now drenched in sweat and dirt, was exhausted.

He knelt beside the fresh grave.

"To have me treat you as my real mother… that's asking a lot," he said softly. "But as a godmother… that I can do."

He kowtowed three times.

His legs gave out. He leaned against Leo's back, breathing heavily.

The sun was up now. A cool breeze carried the scent of the sea. The forest rustled in front of them. Birds called in the distance.

Orson smiled.

"Goodbye. I'm off."

With that, he flipped onto Leo's back and rode off, the wolf trailing behind.

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