Clack.
A large black leather shoe stepped into a puddle, sending up little splashes.
The curly-haired man fell silent as he looked at the wreckage before him.
Rainwater from an unknown source had flooded the track and field.
All the memories had been washed away without a trace.
Uluru had built this place for him to exercise in back then because he thought his constitution was poor.
And now, Uluru lay quietly facedown in a puddle in the middle of the field. Apart from his head, which resembled a rotten orange, he looked as though he were merely asleep.
"Hey, Uluru, stop sleeping. Get up and eat-"
Mori called softly.
His voice echoed through the silent field, but no one would ever answer him again.
After a long while, Mori seemed to wake from a dream and buried Uluru's body.
It was the only thing he could do to mourn Uluru.
Then he turned, left the field, and headed toward the study where Ziwu had been staying.
As he walked, Mori analyzed the situation:
"To blow the [Enhancement] user Uluru's head apart without any resistance, the enemy had to be a Nen user from at least one of the upper three categories. Taking that unexplained rain into account, it was either the work of an [Emission] Nen Beast, or a [Transmutation] user who had trained in [Conjuration]."
Mori leaned toward the enemy being a [Transmutation] user:
When Uluru used his ability on himself, his greatest advantage was speed that was almost impossible to track. Yet the enemy had shattered his skull with precision. There were two possibilities. First, the enemy's ability had an effect that restricted Uluru's movements. Second, the enemy could accelerate to a speed greater than Uluru's.
Of the two, Mori favored the former. For one thing, once