Light.
The man saw light—the light he loved.
His mouth fell slightly open. The instant Roy light-formed and passed through his body, his life unfurled like a scroll and laid itself across his unsettled—no, deeply shadowed—heart.
His name was Libery Garcia, second son of the Garcia family in the Principality of Samir.
Under the doctrine of divine-granted military authority, the nobles were ranked as Duke, Count, Marquis, Viscount, Baron.
The Garcia family held a viscountship and enjoyed a Fourth-tier Blessing. Beyond the nen abilities one could awaken by opening aura nodes, a Blessing could also grant an extra share of aura capacity and an additional awakening opportunity, turning a "Viscount Lord" into a powerhouse with two nen abilities.
Libery, as a viscount's child, was demoted one rank—born a baron, unable to enjoy his father's "Fourth-tier Blessing." But as a "natural baron," he could pray to God, undergo a baptism by a bishop, and receive a Fifth-tier Blessing—that is:
A portion of capacity.
"Thank you, Thunder, for bestowing rain and grace…"
Libery swore no one could refuse a Blessing, and no one could refuse power.
After he opened his aura nodes and awakened nen, he underwent baptism by the bishop—Benjamin Frederick—and truly felt his aura capacity double out of thin air. He'd once naïvely asked his "tutor" why. The man pointed a single finger to the heavens and told him:
"Everything is God's arrangement."
God—for the first time, Libery felt the weight of that name he'd heard all his life.
He remembered his tutor's devout worship: right hand over his chest, murmuring, "Thunder above," and warning him solemnly:
"Do not offend God. Remember only this—He is the Lord who created all things, the true sovereign who personally founded the Principality of Samir, the great existence who can turn all illusions into reality…"
Just like his father, mother, older brother, sisters, servants, maids—countless people around him—who revered, loved, feared God, swearing to follow Thunder and never betray it—until…
Libery discovered his father sleeping with a maid. He heard she was pregnant, and watched his father order the captain of the guard to "dispose of it" in secret.
He discovered his mother in an affair with that same captain—caught in the act by his father—three bodies tangled on a great bed.
He discovered his gentle, kind older sister, once the doors were closed, loved tormenting maids—killing a batch, then replacing them.
He discovered his elder brother Ulysses wore one face in public and another in private, always sneaking around with guards behind everyone's backs.
Libery became lost.
He couldn't understand.
He couldn't accept it.
His instincts recoiled—yet a voice rose in his head like a demon whispering:
Join.
When did it start?
"Who are you—and why are you in my head?"
That rainy night, Libery began to go mad…
Then he remembered.
It was the baptism.
It was the Blessing inside him—moving.
He didn't believe it. Like a sleepwalker, he locked himself in his room, refusing food and water—until his father came, ordered the captain to pry the door open, dragged him out, and threw him onto a woman's bed with a command:
"Take her."
Libery's eyes went blood-red. He panted like a beast, then jerked his gaze up—
It was his own mother.
The mother who'd tangled with father and captain.
Naked. Smiling. Eyes like silk, arms open wide.
"Libery… come here. Come to Mommy."
Boom.
Something detonated in Libery Garcia's brain.
Chaos. Disorder. Madness. Frenzy—like hands around his throat, squeezing until he couldn't breathe—
He crashed through a window in a single burst and sprinted into the pouring rain.
"Crazy… hahahaha… everyone's crazy…"
The downpour soaked him through. He staggered down the street, laughing one moment and crying the next, until he reached a grand cathedral.
Its spire pierced the sky. A massive lightning sigil loomed overhead.
As a baron, he passed the guards, found Lord Benjamin praying in the hall, and collapsed at his feet.
"God… give me guidance. What do I do? What do I do?!"
CRACK—
Thunder raged outside.
Libery looked up and saw Lord Benjamin turn, gently stroking his head with a smile.
"Poor child. You're lost. God has heard your prayer and sent revelation."
"Victor—take him down. You know what to do."
"Yes!"
Armor plates clattered.
Libery felt himself lifted by one hand. The world swam.
He was tossed into a dark room.
Behind him, the knight chuckled.
"Lucky brat. Pick one."
A lamp flared on.
Libery lifted his dripping head—
Rows of girls, naked, hands and feet bound, hung from the rafters by ropes like broken dolls. They swayed silently in the draft.
Libery lowered his eyes.
He propped himself up and refused to look at them, only murmuring to the knight:
"I'm fine."
The knight—Victor—froze, then whooped in excitement.
"You said it yourself! The bishop gave you an hour. If you won't use it, I will!"
Victor shoved Libery aside, eagerly began unbuckling his armor, then stripped down to reveal a body of bloated fat.
Then—
His crotch went cold.
A scream tore out of him as he twisted around in disbelief.
His throat went cold too—
A turquoise-inlaid dagger, wrapped in Ten, drove in hard, then twisted—shredding.
Victor's finger trembled as he pointed at Libery, head lolling.
He collapsed at the girls' feet—dead.
"Ah—finally. That feels better."
Libery released the dagger—his coming-of-age gift from his mother—and let it lie in the filth beside Victor's pig-like body.
He tossed a playing card onto the corpse.
Face up.
A red-nosed clown.
"Someone's been murdered!"
"The killer—Libery Garcia!"
The next day, the Principality of Samir issued a nationwide warrant.
And from that night on, Libery began his long fugitive life…
Pop—
Like a dream shattering.
Outside Bandel City, beside the two bleached skeletons, the man who'd stepped out of the playing card jolted awake.
He clutched his chest at once, flaring En to drive out the transparent insect that had been chewing on the darkest, filthiest parts of his negative emotions.
The Heart Worm let out an indignant little whine and wriggled away along the causal thread, slipping back into Roy.
Roy, meanwhile, peeled open that uneven patch of grass, revealing the bones beneath—confirming they were indeed Andrew Cooper and Longorg.
He glanced at the man and said with a faint sigh,
"You were wrong."
"We're not allies."
"And we're not the same."
A faint dark glow flickered at Roy's fingertip. With a single sweep of his sleeve—without any obvious move—Andrew and Longorg's remains vanished.
Libery stared, then heard Roy add quietly:
"I have a strict family… but it's still normal."
"And you…"
He shrugged, admitting it plainly.
"…you don't."
Libery's eyes burned.
"Then you agree we're friends now?"
He raised a playing card to his lips, tapped it lightly, and said,
"I'm curious—someone with razor-sharp 'nen bullets,' a 'light-form' escape technique, and that eavesdropping bug—what kind of count are you?"
Or—
Libery narrowed his eyes.
"Did I just run into a marquis?"
In Samir's "divine-granted" system, having three distinct nen abilities implied at least a Third-tier Blessing—a marquis or higher.
Roy's gaze drifted through his own skill list—yin and yang, water and fire, earth and wood, wind and lightning, breathing styles and techniques—and he gave Libery a strange look, falling silent.
Then he said evenly:
"I'm no noble."
"I'm just a… castaway."
A castaway trapped inside the lake within the lake—inside Mobius—Roy added silently.
Libery's flamboyant coat fluttered. He paused, then smiled as if relieved.
"I believe you."
"Because the sin on you is even deeper than mine."
"Which means I found the right person."
With a whoosh, Libery produced a full deck and spread it like an accordion.
Roy almost mistook him for a certain "fruit farmer" and very nearly sent a flying slash through him—barely stopping himself in time.
Roy watched in silence.
Libery steadied his breath and asked carefully,
"May I give you a small fortune reading?"
Roy's eyes flicked to the deck—2 through A, plus the red and gray clown Jokers.
A guess formed in his mind: Libery's survival all these years likely hinged on these nen-infused cards.
Divination? A prophecy-type ability, like Neon's?
Roy thought of Neon's Nen:
Specialization — "Lovely Ghostwriter."
You provide your name, birthdate, blood type; she writes a poem of four-to-five stanzas forecasting the next month—each line representing a week. Bad outcomes come with warnings, and obeying them can avert fate. But she can't divine herself—an "equivalent exchange" of its own.
Roy met Libery's eager eyes and asked calmly,
"Before that, tell me the price."
Every payoff carries risk. Roy had to know what consequences might cling to him.
"As you can see, my divination relies on these cards," Libery said. "Don't worry—the risk is on me."
"My results come out as injury to myself. It won't hurt you."
He coughed, wincing as his lungs burned, and forced a grin.
"Truth is, I already divined myself before coming here. That's how I knew I'd find you."
Roy: "And?"
Libery: "I coughed blood. Felt like I took a punch to the chest."
"I see…"
Roy considered, then nodded once.
Libery immediately pressed his advantage, spreading the deck toward Roy.
"Then please—pick three cards."
Roy scanned them lazily.
"Jack. Eight. Ace."
"Suit?"
"Spades, Clubs, Diamonds."
"Good."
Nen stirred. Libery's hand swept. He plucked J♠, 8♣, A♦ between his fingers.
He closed his eyes.
His aura rippled—
And a vision slowly formed…
In a vast river beneath a boundless sky…
A sun-chariot emerged.
It was pulled by a colossal, three-legged golden bird with wings that blotted the heavens, rolling forward in solemn silence…
~~~
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