The two green birds perched on the rusted railing of the cruise ship, feathers ruffling in the night breeze.
Liam's consciousness settled into their minds like slipping into cold water—disorienting for a moment, then sharp and clear. Two sets of eyes. Two perspectives. Stereo vision of the half-sunken wreck illuminated by moonlight.
And then he felt it.
Something touching him. Not physically—birds didn't have hands—but there was a presence sliding over his borrowed bodies. Like invisible cobwebs brushing against skin. Like cold wind passing through an open door. A sensation that didn't belong to the natural world.
En.
Liam's human body, back in the hotel room, went very still.
Someone's using En. Right now. Covering the entire ship.
En was one of the advanced Nen techniques—an application of Ten and Ren that extended your aura outward in a sphere (or other shape) to detect everything within range. Like organic radar. If you were inside someone's En, they could sense your position, your movements, maybe even your emotional state if they were skilled enough.
And someone on that ship had blanketed the entire wreck with it.
Okay, Liam thought, forcing himself to stay calm. Okay. Think. What do I know about En?
Not much, honestly. The manga had shown it being used, but never really explained how to learn it. Netero's En covered hundreds of meters. Zeno Zoldyck could shape his into a dragon. Neferpitou—one of the Chimera Ant Royal Guards—had En that writhed like tentacles, constantly shifting and probing.
And the Ant King, Meruem, had the most absurd En ever depicted: he'd converted his aura into photons—literal light particles—and scattered them across kilometers. If any photon touched you, he knew. And those photons stuck to you, letting him track your movements indefinitely.
But that's end-game bullshit, Liam thought. Whoever's on this ship isn't the Ant King. They're just... good. Really good.
The En covering the cruise ship felt uniform. Steady. Professional. It wasn't actively hostile—more like passive surveillance. Whoever was using it wasn't trying to attack, just to observe.
Which means they're probably not here to fight, Liam reasoned. They're investigating. Same as me.
But investigating what? The ship? The bodies I dumped? Evidence I missed?
Through the birds' eyes, he watched flashlight beams sweep through the cabin interior. Heavy footsteps echoed off metal walls. Voices—muffled, indistinct—drifted up through the open hatchway.
Multiple people. Armed, probably. At least one Nen user skilled enough to maintain En over this distance.
Liam wanted to fly the birds closer. Get a better look. Eavesdrop on their conversation.
But he hesitated.
Because here was the problem: he wasn't a bird.
He could control them. He could see through their eyes, move their bodies, make them fly where he wanted. But he couldn't perfectly replicate a bird's natural behavior. The way they tilted their heads. The way they hopped. The specific rhythm of their wing beats.
If I mess up—if I make them act too human—whoever's using that En will notice.
And that was the other problem. The Star Marks.
Liam had placed them on all five birds' beaks for convenience. Rose-gold pentagrams, small but visible if you looked closely. Two birds with identical marks, both acting strangely, both hovering near a crime scene?
Any competent Manipulator would put that together in about three seconds.
So Liam did what any reasonable person would do when surrounded by invisible surveillance: he made the birds act aggressively stupid.
He opened their beaks. Made them squawk—loud, obnoxious, the kind of territorial noise birds made when they were annoyed. He had them hop along the railing, flap their wings, peck at the rust.
Just two dumb birds, he projected with every movement. Nothing to see here. Move along.
The footsteps inside the cabin grew louder.
And then the En vanished.
Not gradually—instantly. Like someone had flipped a switch. One moment it was everywhere, pressing against him from all sides. The next, it was gone.
Oh shit, Liam thought. They're coming out.
The two birds turned their heads in unison, staring at the cabin entrance.
A figure emerged from the shadows.
Young. Maybe mid-twenties. Tall, with an athletic build and a military bearing that screamed "professional soldier." His hair was styled in a way that made Liam's eye twitch—short on the sides, puffed up on top like a goddamn cauliflower.
Great, Liam thought. It's anime basketball hair. In a military context. Why.
The man walked onto the deck with several others—guards, judging by the flashlights and the way they moved in formation. But the cauliflower-hair guy was clearly in charge. He stood at the bow, hands clasped behind his back, staring toward the shore.
And he didn't even glance at the birds.
So either he didn't notice anything suspicious, Liam thought, or he's ignoring them on purpose. Either way, I'll take it.
The man spoke, his voice carrying clearly across the water. "Mr. Slohe. We had an agreement. Our investigation on this island cannot be interfered with by your people. In exchange, we've allowed Ochima to conduct their own investigation."
Liam's attention snapped to the shore.
There was another group down there—he'd been so focused on the ship that he'd missed them. Five or six people, barely visible in the darkness. One of them stepped forward.
"I received a report from local fishermen," the man—presumably Slohe—called back. He sounded irritated. "They said there was a suspicious ship here. Evidence of foul play. As an official representative of the Ochima Federation, I have every right to investigate."
The cauliflower-hair man's expression didn't change. "Mr. Slohe, please watch your tone. Strictly speaking, this territory belongs to the Kakin Empire."
Wait, what?
Liam controlled one bird to pivot, focusing on the shore. The other kept watching the ship.
This island is Kakin territory? But it's on the Ochima map. There's an entire ocean between here and the Azian Continent. How does that work?
And then it clicked.
Disputed territory.
This is a border dispute. Ochima claims the island. Kakin claims the island. Neither side wants to start a war over it, so they've reached some kind of temporary arrangement.
Which means I accidentally committed multiple murders on politically sensitive land. Fantastic. Just fantastic.
Down on the shore, Slohe smiled—a thin, diplomatic expression that looked like it hurt. "You see, this is where our differences lie. I'd hoped that, given current circumstances, those differences might become history."
Cauliflower-hair remained unmoved. "I will reiterate the terms of our agreement. Both parties may conduct independent investigations on this island for twenty days. We will not interfere with each other's work."
"Twenty days to investigate an island that's ninety percent owned by Blanchett Company," Slohe muttered.
"Your negotiations with them are your own concern." Cauliflower-hair turned on his heel, heading back toward the cabin. "I'm not obligated to accommodate you further."
He vanished inside, leaving two armed guards on deck.
Okay, Liam thought, processing. So cauliflower-hair is Kakin military. Slohe is Ochima government. They're both investigating the island—probably the same incident that got me isekai'd here. And neither of them trusts the other.
Also, Blanchett Company apparently owns most of the island, which tracks with the whole "Disney knockoff" thing. Of course the mega-corporation has their fingers in the political mess.
Down on the shore, Slohe touched his balding head with visible frustration. "Let's go," he said to his group.
One of them—a short man, maybe five feet tall—looked disappointed. "Aw, come on! I wanted to talk to them!"
"Talk about what?" one of the suited guards asked.
"Bodyguard stuff!" the short man said, like it was obvious. "I wanted to see if they needed to hire me. You know, get both contracts."
There was a long silence.
"Are you serious?" another guard said slowly.
"What? I'm a professional Hunter! I'm good at my job. I could protect both sides!"
Oh my god, Liam thought, watching through the bird's eyes. This guy's either brilliant or the dumbest person alive.
Slohe sighed. "Mr. Kanzai, while we're not hostile with Kakin this time, we're not allies either. You can't work for both sides."
The short man—Kanzai, apparently—made a disappointed noise. "Oh. Well, in that case, never mind!"
A woman in a black suit adjusted her glasses. "So it's stupidity, not greed."
Damn, Liam thought. She just went for the throat.
Kanzai whirled on her. "Who are you calling stupid?! Hey—glasses girl—what's your name?!"
The woman blinked. "My name is Shizuku. I took this job because the pay is good."
Why did you add that last part? multiple people's expressions seemed to ask.
"Alright, everyone in the vehicles," Slohe said, sounding exhausted. "We're heading back to West Town. It's been a long day—airship to train to bus—and we need rest. Tomorrow we're negotiating with Blanchett Company, and I need everyone sharp." He turned to Kanzai. "And you—your job is to protect me. Only me. Everyone else is a potential threat. Understand?"
Kanzai huffed. "You could've just said that from the start! It's so hard to talk to you people!"
The group piled into two off-road vehicles—black, utilitarian, probably armored. Engines rumbled to life. Headlights cut through the darkness.
And as they pulled away, kicking up dust and gravel, one of the green birds launched itself from the railing.
It glided silently through the night, passing through the red glow of the rear vehicle's taillights, and landed softly on the roof.