The next day, the forest around Whale Island hummed with quiet tension. The sky was gray, and birds flew low across the trees — a subtle sign Vane read without speaking. Trouble was coming. Kaen didn't need his master's sixth sense to know it, though. He could feel it in the air, like static before a lightning strike.
Vane emerged from the trees with a strange expression. "Pack up. Now."
Kaen was in the middle of En training, his aura spread in a thin, precise circle thirty meters wide. He narrowed his eyes. "What's wrong?"
"We're not alone," Vane said, scanning the canopy. "Someone found us. Two signatures, both trained. One of them is suppressing their aura, but the other… the other wants to be found."
Kaen's heart raced, but he remained still. He willed his En to shrink and harden, like a coiling spring. "Hunters?"
"Maybe. Maybe not," Vane replied. "But they're not here for a chat."
Kaen nodded, cracking his knuckles. "Then let's see what they want."
⸻
Minutes later, two figures stepped into the clearing.
One was a tall, pale man with silver hair tied in a low braid, dressed in the kind of sleek travel gear a bounty hunter might wear. His steps were slow, deliberate. The other figure, shorter and cloaked in a strange silk hood, said nothing — even their aura was barely traceable.
The silver-haired man spoke first. "So you're the one they whispered about. The Whale Island boy with a 'Palace in his mind.'"
Vane stepped forward. "Say your name."
The man smiled. "You can call me Eral. And this—" he gestured to the silent figure, "—is my associate. You don't need to know their name. You only need to know we're here to test a theory."
Vane's muscles tensed, but his voice remained calm. "What theory?"
"That your student has a Nen ability that borders on being a danger to the balance."
Kaen scoffed. "Balance? What does that even mean?"
Eral tilted his head. "Let me put it another way, Kaen. If someone with your ability were to encounter a criminal, they could copy their power without consent. If they studied a memory, they could mimic it. And if they imagined a variant — they could surpass it. Tell me, what happens when someone like you starts thinking about nukes or teleportation?"
Kaen's jaw tightened.
Vane's arm twitched — but too late.
Eral stepped forward and unleashed his aura.
It wasn't like most battle Nen — it didn't scream or blaze. It hummed. Steady. Controlled. Cold.
A perfect diamond-shaped lattice of threads extended from his body like spider silk, forming a sharp geometric pattern in the air. "You and I are going to fight. My power is called Fate Weave. Every decision you make in the next five minutes will be bound by probability."
Kaen's eyes widened.
Vane called out, "He's a Manipulator — maybe Specialist hybrid. He warps chance by anchoring your aura threads into patterns."
"Exactly," Eral said. "Your moves become less likely to succeed, Kaen. If you try the same tactic twice, the odds drop in real time."
Kaen took a breath and activated Echo Scribe. His aura shimmered — and recorded every second of the moment. He embedded the current scene into his Palace and began running simulated outcomes of every option.
"Alright, then," Kaen muttered, "Let's test your theory."
⸻
Round 1.
Kaen blurred forward with Ghost Step, attempting a feint to the right followed by a low kick.
Eral didn't dodge.
He simply adjusted the silk threads with one hand — and Kaen's kick passed just wide.
Kaen stumbled slightly. The odds had been altered. His Mind Palace displayed a warning glyph:
[15% Success Rate – Path Altered]
Eral smirked. "First mistake. Straight aggression. Try again."
⸻
Round 2.
Kaen shifted tactics. He invoked a Tactical Echo glyph — one that auto-activated a reverse spin when aura tension spiked from behind.
But Eral anticipated it. His silk threads compressed the aura pattern and forced a misfire — the spin activated too early.
Kaen dodged a slash but was clipped along the side of his ribs.
"Second mistake," Eral said, walking closer. "Using memory-based pre-programmed defense. My ability corrupts timing. It won't play fair."
Kaen backed off, blood dripping down his side.
His Palace was struggling. Glyphs weren't fast enough. Echo Scribe was accurate, but he couldn't outthink probability manipulation in real time.
Not yet.
He needed something faster.
Smarter.
Deeper.
He sank into his Mind Palace mid-battle. Time seemed to slow. He opened a new chamber — one he had never touched before — the Imaginarium. It was the wildest part of the Palace. A space where raw imagination took shape without full testing.
He drew from his fear. His stress. His sense of being trapped.
And from that, he formed a concept:
What if I didn't fight against probability? What if I turned it into possibility instead?