Six months.
That was how long Morrow had mastered Nen.
In terms of technique, aura output, and even potential aura...
Morrow was far inferior to the seasoned veterans before him. Worse still, he lacked combat experience with Nen.
He—
Had never been particularly ambitious.
If he had to name a goal, it was simply to live well, eat well, and sleep well.
So he never went out of his way to stir trouble, quietly honing his Nen abilities while earning money to repay Morena.
As for combat, he had sparred a few times with Saixin as an Enhancement-type user.
But those were nothing more than casual exchanges.
Now, in this life-or-death situation, would he regret not dedicating more time to improving his strength?
Morrow felt no regret—or rather, he had no spare thoughts to dwell on such things.
All he knew was... he had to rely on his own Nen abilities now to find a sliver of hope in this seemingly hopeless situation.
But before activating his ability, he needed to create an opening.
In the brief silence, Morrow's mind raced.
Chrollo had stopped Bonolenov out of curiosity, but Morrow didn't believe Chrollo would patiently wait for his answer.
After all, with Pakunoda's memory-reading ability, they could easily extract all his secrets after capturing him alive.
And even if he outright revealed the name of Chrollo's Nen ability, along with its Vows and Limitations, it likely wouldn't break Chrollo's focus.
So how could he make the most of this fleeting chance to speak?
What words could strike deep into the hearts of those before him?
Faced with mortal peril, Morrow's brain burned with frantic intensity.
Then, a name surfaced naturally—
Sarasa.
The owner of this name was the catalyst for the Phantom Troupe's formation—and a lingering wound in the hearts of Chrollo and the others.
"Sarasa."
Without hesitation, Morrow shouted the name long buried in the depths of Chrollo, Pakunoda, and Shalnark's hearts.
The street, the wind and rain.
A name that should never have been spoken at this moment surged forth like a boiling tide, violently shaking the minds of Chrollo, Pakunoda, and Shalnark.
Why did this boy know Sarasa's name?
Just as their confusion arose, Morrow struck.
Deceptive Shooting Star.
Morrow raised both hands, forming egg-sized emerald-green Nen bullets in his palms.
In an instant, the bullets shot forward, aimed straight at the momentarily distracted Pakunoda and Shalnark.
A direct strike at their openings!
The emerald bullets reached them in a flash.
However, Bonolenov—who had no reaction to Sarasa's name—shoved Shalnark aside at the last moment, narrowly avoiding the incoming projectile.
Almost simultaneously, Chrollo, whose mental fortitude was extraordinary, steadied himself just in time and yanked Pakunoda out of harm's way.
Both Nen bullets missed their marks.
At the same time, Morrow sprinted toward the sidewalk.
The person guarding the back exit...
Judging by the overwhelming killing intent, it had to be one of the Phantom Troupe's assault specialists.
So until that person showed themselves, Morrow had no intention of heading that way.
His only escape routes were the sidewalks on either side!
He glanced back swiftly at Chrollo's group.
Deceptive Shooting Star had missed... Ultimately, it was because his Hatsu wasn't mastered enough to release his ability faster.
Yet he couldn't deny that in this brief minute of contact, Morrow had truly recognized Chrollo's exceptional qualities.
These named characters from the original work were mostly not to be trifled with.
Morrow withdrew his gaze. Though the Deceptive Shooting Star had missed, he showed no trace of disappointment.
His Deceptive Shooting Star had a second phase...
"Sorry."
On the empty street, Shalnark snapped back to attention, frowning slightly.
Bonolenov gave Shalnark a strange look before turning his gaze to Morrow, who was sprinting through the rain, and chased after him.
Chrollo's eyes were icy as he effortlessly overtook Bonolenov, his figure cutting through the layers of rain as he pursued Morrow.
Shalnark and Pakunoda steadied themselves.
Questions remained, but as long as they captured Morrow alive, all doubts would be answered.
They followed closely behind.
—--
Ahead.
Morrow glanced back again at Chrollo and the others closing in.
"About time..."
Calculating the timing in his mind, Morrow raised his right hand, preparing for the Shooting Star's return.
His Deceptive Shooting Star was an Emission-Manipulation composite ability with an attack range of only a hundred meters.
When the Shooting Star reached its maximum distance, it would freeze in midair and remain stationary for 1 to 5 seconds.
Morrow could set the exact duration of this pause before releasing the Shooting Star.
Once the set time elapsed, the Shooting Star's power, speed, and size would double, then reverse course along a target-seeking trajectory back to Morrow.
This second-phase power boost was the Vow effect of this ability.
The accompanying Limitation was—
The returning Shooting Star would also harm Morrow.
In other words, if nothing else blocked it, Morrow would have to either dodge or endure the impact.
The reason Morrow imposed this Limitation lay in the Tree Rings on the back of his right hand.
Beneath the Tree Rings, his entire hand was as hard as a tortoise shell...
Thus, he could use it to deflect the returning Shooting Star.
Timing it perfectly, Morrow abruptly adjusted his stance.
Amid the relentless wind and rain, two faint sounds abruptly rang out.
Then, two deep fluorescent green lights pierced the rainy night, carrying a dangerous aura as they shot toward Pakunoda and Shalnark.
The suddenness of the attack, combined with Chrollo and Bonolenov being ahead, left Pakunoda and Shalnark with no assistance this time.
When the doubled-power Shooting Stars struck, Shalnark barely reacted, managing only a slight twist of his body.
The Shooting Star hit his abdomen, instantly blasting away a chunk of flesh, as if bitten by a gaping maw.
Pakunoda was a beat slower.
Blood sprayed as her face jerked violently—her upper torso was blown open by the Shooting Star, her instantly weakened body collapsing forward onto the ground.
The sudden turn of events disrupted Chrollo and Bonolenov's pursuit.
Seeing his success, Morrow channeled over half his aura output into his legs and continued sprinting forward at full speed.
He had done all he could—
If he still couldn't escape, then he'd accept his fate.
Just as this thought crossed his mind, the faint afterimage of a face flashed in the corner of his vision—barely discernible but filled with a sinister, seething rage.
Feitan?! As the thought arose, Morrow felt a sudden chill on the bridge of his nose. Immediately after, his consciousness—like a violin string on the verge of snapping—was stripped away at a pace that seemed slow but was in fact lightning-fast.
In his final moment, a single question surfaced in Morrow's mind.
Am I... dead?
—--
Cold. Trembling.
Morrow's eyes snapped open. What greeted him was a row of vertical, rusted iron bars.
It seemed to be a cage.
"Where... is this?"
Taking in his surroundings, Morrow froze.
The lingering sensation of Zetsu still clung to him, but it was quickly replaced by fragments of memory.
He had returned to the moment he first crossed over—one year ago!