Humanity

The iron bars of the cage were rusted, making them brittle and weak.

Bolstered by Nen aura, Moro forcibly bent apart the vertical bars, creating an opening large enough for him to leave the cage.

Ignoring the terrified stares around him, Moro bent down and stepped out of the cage. Hearing movement from beyond the compartment door, he shifted sideways and reached out to grip a bar again.

He wanted to snap the bar off, but lacked the strength to do so.

With time running out, Moro noticed that the bar was not welded at either end. He wrenched the bent bar free from the cage frame.

Just then, the compartment door opened. Sunlight flooded in, revealing a rather tall figure, and—

A handgun!

Moro's expression changed abruptly.

At his current level, having only just completed opening Nen, even a small-caliber handgun could inflict real damage on him.

Moreover, a Nen user's control over aura came more from accumulated practice, training the body to remember it like an instinct.

So even though Moro had successfully opened Nen, he still needed time to adapt and familiarize his body with the flow of aura.

Under these circumstances, the threat posed by a firearm was obvious.

The instant he saw the handgun, Moro had no room for further thought. He hurled the bent iron bar in his hand.

Thanks to his proficiency in the Emission category, its direction and accuracy were flawless.

The rapidly spinning bar tore through the air and struck the person opening the compartment door with precision.

With a scream, the man was sent flying backward by the impact.

But at that moment, accompanied by a faint sound, a throwing knife wrapped in aura shot through the air, aimed straight at Moro's leg.

It was an attack from another person...

And that person was a Nen user!

In his haste, Moro could only barely twist his body.

Slash.

The throwing knife grazed Moro's knee, sending a spurt of blood into the air.

Moro's expression darkened slightly. Enduring the pain from his wound, he decisively retreated deeper into the compartment, putting distance between himself and the iron door.

He knew there were two people responsible for transporting the goods, so he had been mentally prepared from the start.

But the cargo truck stopping so suddenly, along with the fact that one of them was a Nen user, still caught him somewhat off guard.

More importantly—

Judging from the timing of the throwing knife attack, the other party had likely already learned something about the situation inside the compartment before stopping the truck. That was why he had his armed companion open the door.

And since there had been no heightened vigilance when the door was opened, he clearly had not told his gun-toting companion much critical information.

In other words, he had deliberately sent his armed companion to open the door, using him as bait while also presenting a visible threat.

That person...

Was exceedingly cold-blooded.

Moro pressed himself against the side wall of the compartment, his expression grave.

He raised his head and swept his gaze over a dim corner of the ceiling. He could vaguely make out a faint red dot.

A surveillance camera.

Lowering his gaze, Moro frowned.

He had not considered these possibilities in advance. He had been careless and failed to account for everything.

Especially the possibility that one of the transporters was a Nen user...

But Moro never poured too much emotion into frustration or regret. Learning from mistakes and failures was the principle he had always upheld.

That was also the fundamental reason he had managed to establish an antique shop and achieve stable profits in less than half a year.

After all, the trade in antiques and handcrafted art was rife with fraud, scams, counterfeits, and the like.

Of course, Moro had been cheated before, and he had fallen into more than one setup.

Yet it was precisely those experiences that gave Moro the vital experience he now possessed to handle so many situations.

Moro looked toward the compartment door.

From the moment the other party attacked until now, he had never shown himself.

And there was one thing that bothered Moro greatly.

He was certain that, at the moment of that attack, the other party had every opportunity to seriously injure or kill him in one blow.

But the other party had not done so. Instead, he had chosen to attack Moro's leg.

He was clearly a cold-blooded bastard who could decisively abandon his companion at a moment's notice, yet he had held back in this situation.

"Does preserving the 'goods' matter more than the risk of his companion dying as bait...?"

Moro realized this.

The so-called goods naturally referred to their group of human cargo.

From this, Moro inferred that the other party had a duty to keep the goods as intact as possible. He could not help thinking of the attack on the cargo truck that had resulted in the deaths of most of the human cargo...

Was there some hidden reason behind that?

Could it also indirectly prove the importance and value of this batch of goods?

Unfortunately, although he had survived by sheer luck at the time, he had quickly lost consciousness.

When he woke up, he was already aboard a ship bound for the Kakin Nation.

At the time, he had no memories related to this world. Worse, he could not understand the language, so he had been unable to learn the cause and circumstances right away.

Afterward, he had not paid much attention to those matters.

Otherwise, if he had known more, he should have more information now.

What he could confirm at present was that the attacker's duty to preserve the goods took priority even over his companion's life.

Perhaps he could make use of that...

Moro quickly checked his wound first. It was not deep, but without any attempt to stop the bleeding, it would still be a hidden danger.

He did not have much time left.

"Hmm?"

At that thought, Moro's pupils contracted. He stared intently beyond the compartment door, where there had been no movement at all, then quickly glanced back at the throwing knife embedded in the compartment wall.

Time...

The other party undoubtedly held the initiative, yet showed no sign of pressing his advantage. He had not even revealed himself.

Was he being excessively cautious, or waiting for something?

Moro stared at the throwing knife. For the time being, he could see no clue, nor did he rashly consider pulling it out to use as a weapon.

Still, he vaguely felt that he could not remain locked in this stalemate. He had to make a choice.

He would take a gamble.

Moro suddenly charged toward the compartment door.

Outside Moro's field of vision, Zazan heard the movement and instinctively raised his left hand. Aura surged, and a throwing knife materialized out of thin air. He was about to throw it toward the sound.

The entire sequence, as well as his on-the-spot reaction, stemmed from his combat instincts.

But the rationality that followed made him forcibly suppress the urge to throw the knife.

Because with his target in a blind spot, his predictive attack might very well accidentally kill the human cargo.

That moment of hesitation allowed Moro to leap out of the compartment successfully. He landed more than ten meters away and saw Zazan standing beside the cargo truck.

He had bet right.

Seeing that the other party had not attacked, Moro steadied himself. He discreetly glanced toward the spot deeper inside the compartment where the throwing knife had landed, then tensed his nerves and prepared to react to anything.

Zazan clenched the throwing knife, unable to hide the surprise in his gaze as he looked at Moro.

This kid... was too strange.

"Are you always this brave?"

Zazan toyed with the throwing knife expressionlessly.

Moro said nothing, using the time to help his body adapt to the circulation of aura.

Seeing Moro remain silent, Zazan frowned and said coldly, "If I'd attacked just now, you'd be dead or half-dead."

"You could have done that from the beginning, couldn't you?"

Moro's face remained calm.

"..."

Zazan's expression shifted.