Could it be that Ging was also somewhere in this archipelago?
Liam felt a restless spark of anticipation, though it was quickly dampened by a reflexive urge to head in the opposite direction. It was a well-known fact that Ging Freecss was unpredictable—a walking enigma. He was powerful and terrifyingly brilliant, but the problem was that his mental wiring operated on a frequency entirely alien to normal people. There was a reason Hunter x Hunter fans nicknamed him "Dad Go," and it wasn't just a term of endearment; the man was simply never on the same wavelength as the rest of humanity.
Kite, unaware of the silent slander Liam was directing toward his master, gave a solemn nod. "Yes, the Island of Oath. According to current research, specific environmental factors ensure that only those with Nen can set foot here. Once you enter, you are compelled to make oaths and restrictions."
"That sounds a bit backward," Liam complained, kicking at a loose stone. "Oaths and restrictions are usually subconscious habits that form naturally, or they require a deep, unwavering conviction to manifest. A belief has to be rock-solid to hold that kind of power. How effective can a localized, mandatory oath even be? An incomplete belief is no belief at all."
"Under normal circumstances, you'd be right," Kite said, gesturing toward the thick, swirling mist that clung to the trees. "But here, it is different. The environment acts as a catalyst. It ensures that any oath made is immediately etched into reality. As long as the words are spoken with intent, they become effective."
"Any oath?" Liam asked, his brow furrowing.
"Anything," Kite confirmed. "But remember, oaths are double-edged swords. A powerful effect demands a heavy price. You have to give up as much as you hope to gain. That is the fundamental law of nature, and even this place cannot bypass it."
Liam pondered this for a moment before shaking his head. "This place is a trap. Pure and simple."
He raised a finger to emphasize his point. "A truly powerful Nen ability must be bound by massive restrictions—constraints. That's the premise. Suppose I want a specific, high-level power. If my desire for that power was strong enough to justify those shackles, I would have developed the ability and sworn the oath myself long before I ever stepped onto this island. It's not like we're barred from making oaths in the outside world."
Kite watched him quietly, the silence stretching between them.
Not long ago, Ging had walked through this same mist, wearing that characteristic, maddening smile. He had said almost the exact same thing: "Suppose I want a powerful ability that can only be formed by an oath. But to get it, I have to accept a price I wasn't willing to pay before. I didn't think it was worth it. That means my belief isn't firm by nature. The moment I leave this ghost of an island, I'll probably break the restriction because the conviction wasn't mine—it was the island's."
"Why would someone build a place like this, then?" Kite had asked.
Ging had paused, looking up at the blackened sky. "I suspect the True Martial King was once broken by an oath. Perhaps his queen vanished because of one. It would explain why records of her are so rare; they were either destroyed by a heartbroken king or erased by a Nen ability that spiraled out of control. We don't know his grief, but he likely left this place behind as a way to process that pain. When it comes to oaths and restrictions, a single stray thought can invite disaster."
A low rumble echoed through the black mist, sounding like the frantic whispering of a thousand voices, heavy with sorrow. Liam sighed, the weight of the atmosphere pressing down on him.
"The True Martial King... a man whose end is a mystery. What were you thinking, Old King? What kind of madness drove you to leave a trap like this behind?" Liam muttered. It explained why Edward had been driven to such a desperate end at the Heavens Arena. He must have been haunted by the whispers of the mist until his mind simply snapped.
The faint rustle of fabric caught Liam's attention. His hearing, amplified by his Listen ability, picked up the subtle shift instantly. He glanced back at the woman they had bound. Her eyes were closed, but her breathing had changed.
"Now that you're awake, you can stop playing possum," Liam said, his voice casual. "Look, I haven't killed you yet. Why don't we just talk?"
If his hearing hadn't been unnaturally sharp, he wouldn't have noticed the ruse. Kite looked over, his eyes narrowing. "I'm afraid she heard everything we just said. She's..."
"Is she swearing an oath?" Liam realized.
The steady, clear heartbeat coming from the woman's chest stopped abruptly, like a violin string snapping under too much tension. A wave of simultaneously freezing cold and searingly hot energy erupted from her, striking Liam at point-blank range. It felt like a physical weight boring into his chest.
Thump-thump.
Liam stumbled back, his own heart racing in a panicked rhythm. A phantom pain flared in his chest, making him gasp for air.
"Dead?" Kite leaned over, peeling back the woman's eyelids. He confirmed the lack of life in her eyes. He looked up at Liam. "You look pale."
"I'm fine," Liam exhaled slowly, trying to steady his pulse. "I'm just a soft-hearted guy. I hate seeing people die right in front of me."
As the words left his mouth, he swung his leg.
Bang!
He kicked the corpse with enough force to send it flying. It traced a long arc through the air before hitting the water with a dull splash.
Kite stared at the ripples in the water, then back at Liam. "Soft-hearted?"
Liam ignored the look and turned toward the horizon. Beyond the black mist lay the vast, dark ocean. Further in, he could see the silhouettes of other islands, all nested within each other like rings, each shrouded in that same oppressive fog.
"You aren't planning on paddling out of here on that little raft, are you?" Liam asked. "The sea looks unforgiving."
"Hardly," Kite replied. "I only came to the outermost edge to scout."
"And the center? Have you seen it?"
"The archipelago is divided into six levels, from the outer rim to the core," Kite explained. "I think you've already figured out the pattern."
Liam considered the number. As a Nen user, the connection was immediate. Six levels. Six systems of Nen. He looked at Kite. "Which level did you start on? Actually, don't tell me, let me guess."
Kite didn't wait. "The second level from the center. The fact that you appeared here tells me you're a Manipulator. There's no point in hiding it."
"So you're a Conjurer, and you started on the Conjuration island," Liam murmured. "Six islands for the six major Nen types. Talk about organized. Do different types get different treatment, I wonder?"
He knelt and drew six concentric circles in the dirt. He pointed to the outermost ring where they stood. "Manipulation. Then moving inward: Emission, Enhancement, Transmutation, Conjuration..."
"...And the island at the very center. Specialization," Liam finished, staring at the map. "Putting Specialization at the heart of it all... it's hard not to think that the mist and these 'oaths' are all controlled from there. There's something wrong with that center island."
He looked up at Kite. "Is there a way in?"
"The key to leaving this place safely is likely right there," Kite said.
"Great minds think alike!" Liam snapped his fingers and hopped onto the raft. "Let's move."
"Are you a Hunter too?" Kite asked, jumping down after him. His weight caused the raft to dip sharply into the waves.
"In the future!" Liam laughed. He pressed his fingers together, gathering his aura into a concentrated point before flicking it toward the shore.
Boom!
The explosive force of his Spirit Gun acted like a makeshift outboard motor, creating a massive wake that propelled the raft away from the shore and toward the inner ring—the Island of Emission.
Kite looked back at the receding shoreline. "Since you haven't technically sworn an oath yet, how are you ignoring the fog's effects? You can even see the other islands."
"Taking an oath is easy if you know how to phrase it." Liam stood on the rocking raft, thinking for a second. "Since I'm a Manipulator, I'll play to my strengths. I want my aura to freely control the seawater around me. The restriction? I can only use this power within the waters of this specific archipelago. Isn't that restrictive enough?"
The black mist surged over the waves, and the murmuring voices grew louder, as if acknowledging his words. Liam felt a sudden, sharp shift in the weight of his aura.
He crouched at the edge of the raft and dipped his hand into the dark water. As his aura bled into the sea, the water reacted instantly, swirling around his fingers like a pet. He lifted his hand, and a stream of water followed, hovering in the air and twisting according to his will.
Liam made a sharp, crushing gesture. A sphere of seawater the size of a head compressed instantly, its volume shrinking until it froze into a dense chunk of ice from the sheer pressure. When he released his grip, the ice shattered and melted back into liquid, falling into the ocean.
"Heh. Now that's interesting."
Liam stepped off the raft. The moment his feet touched the surface, the water beneath his soles condensed into a solid, icy platform. The sea itself seemed to rise to meet his stride, providing a constant upward lift. He began to walk across the waves as if he were on a paved sidewalk.
Kite watched him pace back and forth on the open water. Even if the island was boosting his capabilities, Liam's ability to adapt to a brand-new power was unnerving.
"Pity I can't take this home with me," Liam noted, sounding a little bored already. "It's a one-trick pony for this island only." He looked toward the next ring of land. "What about you? You made it from the Conjuration island to here, so you must have made a deal."
Kite remained on the raft as it glided forward. "I can conjure my aura into a vessel that can navigate these waters. But the restriction is that I can only conjure it once."
Liam thought about the limitations of that. "Treacherous," he noted with a grin. "I love it."
"I can conjure my aura into a boat. But I can only conjure it once."
Kurapika repeated the words to himself, his voice barely a whisper against the backdrop of the shifting mist. He stood on the shore, the divine jade pendant clutched in one hand. With his Cone ability active, his vision pierced through the haze.
In the distance, past the swirling black fog, sat a small island. At its center stood a looming, triangular shadow—a spire that seemed to pierce the heavens.
After a moment of silence, Kurapika extended his hand. His aura shimmered, solidifying into the physical form of a small, sturdy boat. It hit the water with a soft splash.
Kurapika climbed in, gripped the wooden oars, and began to row toward the spire.
While his vision could ignore the fog, his Listen ability made the experience much worse. The whispers hidden in the mist were no longer just background noise; they were screams of madness and grief. He deactivated Listen, focusing entirely on the rhythmic pull of the oars.
The island drew closer. Unlike the ringed islands Liam had encountered, this one looked like a natural landmass, not a manufactured "runway."
Before the prow could touch the sand, a dark shape erupted from the water, lunging toward the boat.
"I am a shark! I'll tear you apart!" the figure shrieked.
It was a man, or what used to be one. Patches of jagged fish scales sprouted from his skin, and his eyes were wide and glazed with insanity. He thrashed in the air, claws reaching for Kurapika.
The Skeleton Knight manifested behind Kurapika, its massive boney hand reaching out to snatch the attacker mid-air.
Already lost to the mist? Kurapika wondered, watching the man struggle. He was likely another victim who had been broken by an oath he couldn't keep.
Kurapika reached the shore and stepped onto the sand. The Skeleton Knight followed, still dangling the half-mutated man. With a dismissive gesture, the knight tossed the creature aside.
"The man is already dead. You'd be doing him a favor by finishing it," a voice called out from the mist. "It would be a mercy."
A figure emerged from the darkness. He wore a hooded cloak and a travel-worn hat, a slight, knowing smile playing on his lips as he looked at Kurapika.
The half-fishman roared and scrambled toward the hooded stranger, his movements a desperate, crawling mess. Kurapika didn't even see the man move. One moment the creature was lunging, and the next, it was flying backward as if hit by a freight train. It coughed up a spray of blood and tumbled back into the surf, silent.
The Skeleton Knight shifted, its massive fist clenching as it prepared to strike the stranger.
Kurapika stared at the man, his expression cold. "What is that tower?"
The man had been knocked back several yards by the force of his own redirection, but he popped back up with the agility of a gymnast, dusting off his clothes.
To Kurapika's shock, the man's aura began to flare and reshape itself. From the ground behind him, an identical Skeleton Knight rose, its hollow eyes glowing with a reflected light. It mirrored Kurapika's summon perfectly, even sprouting an extra pair of arms as if to show off.
The two pairs of skeletal fists collided with a resounding crack.
The man in the turban grinned at the stunned Kurapika. "That's a handy ability. It'll be useful for what's coming. My name is Ging. What's yours?"
On the Island of Emission, Liam had barely taken two steps onto the sand when the air began to hum. A foreign, aggressive aura was closing in fast.
"Really?" Liam muttered, his hands sliding into his pockets. "We're doing random encounters now?"
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