Authors note:
From today on, I will only upload one chapter a day for now. Since I will be busy with YouTube and school, this will continue for I believe two weeks. On the weekend, I might upload two chapters a day.
-----------------------------
Jons hadn't said a single word since finishing his story.
Serik, meanwhile, was dying of laughter.
Not metaphorically—he was literally rolling in the dirt, clutching his stomach, kicking his legs helplessly like an overturned beetle. "HE—HAHA—HE THREW A BOOK AT YOU?! AND—AND—MONKEYS?! MONKEYS, JONS?!"
Tears streamed down his face.
Jons stood beside him, posture immaculate, hands folded behind his back, looking exactly as calm and dignified as ever. Inside, perhaps, he felt something. Outside, absolutely nothing.
He waited.One minute. Two. Three.
Serik's fit finally collapsed into weak hiccups. He sat up, wiped his eyes, and tried—heroically—to be serious. The massive grin on his face ruined it immediately.
Jons exhaled softly. "If you are finished, young master, we shall begin."
Serik nodded hard. "Yes. I'm ready. Serious. Totally serious."
"Relax your shoulders," Jons said.
Serik obeyed.
"Breathe slowly."
He inhaled.
"Empty your mind."
"…Even thoughts of grandpa—?"
"Especially those."
Serik shut his mouth.
Jons placed his hands lightly on Serik's shoulders—gentle, but precise in a way that made Serik tense from instinct alone. He had just enough time to wonder what was about to happen.
Then something inside him detonated.
Not a sound—a sensation.
Invisible gates burst open. Heat shot up his spine. Pressure wrapped around his muscles. The air thickened around his skin. His heartbeat skyrocketed. His breath caught. His vision sharpened so fast it startled him.
"What—what WAS that?!"
"Your Nen has awakened," Jons said, withdrawing his hands.
Serik stared at his fingers as a faint shimmer rippled around them like heat over stone. "This… THIS FEELS AMAZING!"
He leapt up, aura moving with him like a pulse. Without thinking, his body slid into White Emperor Style—one inhale, four movements, perfectly natural.
Jons watched silently.
Ten seconds. Exceptionally fast.
Serik finished, panting. "So THIS is Nen?!"
"Ten," Jons corrected. "Maintain it for the rest of the day. Sit. Meditate."
Serik sat instantly—way too excited—and closed his eyes. Five seconds later, his aura exploded outward like a popped balloon.
Jons corrected him again and again: "Focus on your breathing.
Your thoughts are too loud.
You are smiling again. Don't."
Hours passed. Slowly, painfully, Serik settled. By sunset, Ten wrapped around him softly, like a warm second skin.
"Stand," Jons said.
Serik stood.
"We are going to the forest."
The forest at dusk was darker, colder, its shadows deeper and heavier. Twisted branches stretched over moss like thin crooked arms. The air felt still, watching.
"Zetsu," Jons explained. "Closing your aura entirely. If done correctly, animals will not sense you easily." He described each detail: how to quiet aura, how the nodes shut, how to relax without collapsing, how fear caused leaks, how stillness was not physical rigidity but mental clarity.
Serik absorbed every word.
"You will practice until you succeed," Jons said. "When you can maintain Zetsu while moving, you may hunt. If you fail, you will not eat."And then he vanished.
Serik blinked. "Great. Perfect. Love that for me."His stomach growled.
He tried to shut off his aura by sheer force. His aura sputtered violently. A rabbit bolted so fast it was practically teleporting. Everything he did scared off every animal in the area. Dinner was tea. Only tea. Serik considered whether starvation might kill him before Nen training did.
The next night wasn't much better. His aura flickered wildly whenever he panicked or overthought things, which was constantly. Even when he managed several seconds of quiet, the smallest noise broke it. Every creature escaped instantly. Returning home covered in dirt, he received only a calm, "Your nodes remain too loud," from Jons.
Serik thought about eating leaves.
On the third night, something changed. He realized forcing Zetsu didn't work. Thinking too hard didn't work. Trying to control it didn't work at all. So he sat beneath a tree, breathing slowly, matching his breath to the rhythm of the forest—the rustling leaves, the insects, the pauses between sounds.
His aura softened. Thinned. Quieted.
A squirrel passed him and didn't react.
Serik's heart leapt—and the aura flared violently.The forest scattered.
But he had felt something. A glimpse. Proof that he could do it.
On the fourth night, he didn't force it. He didn't push. He didn't strain. He simply breathed and allowed his thoughts to pass by without grabbing them. His aura shrank with each calm exhale… until it disappeared entirely.
His presence vanished. The air around him felt still. A rabbit hopped close enough to brush his leg without noticing anything unusual.
Serik opened his eyes slowly. "…I did it."
He maintained Zetsu for minutes, then tens of minutes, until his muscles ached. Now came the hunt.
He moved with the forest's rhythm—quiet steps, careful weight shifts, attention to wind and leaf movement. Zetsu hid his aura, but not his sound, so he moved with deliberate softness. He observed animals, learned their reactions, and slipped through the environment like a shadow that forgot to exist.
A rabbit nibbled near a fallen log. Serik crouched, matched its pauses, crept forward, placed each foot on moss, and when he was close enough, reached out swiftly and cleanly. The rabbit barely reacted before he secured it. He silently pumped his fist.
He spotted two more rabbits grazing together. Circling wide, he nudged a loose stone, letting it clatter softly downhill. The rabbits startled ran—but toward him. He lunged, grabbing one, while the other tripped over a root he had noted earlier. In one smooth movement, he pinned it gently.
Three catches. Real, earned catches.
Later, he encountered a young boar—strong enough to be dangerous. Serik didn't dare attack it head-on. Instead he observed for nearly an hour, memorizing its movements. He noticed the soft mud near a narrow stream and used the natural terrain to form a simple trap. With Zetsu active, he subtly guided the boar toward it. The boar stepped between two roots, slipped, and slid harmlessly into the mud pit. Confused, but unhurt, it struggled just long enough for Serik to secure it with rope.
By the time he returned home, he was muddy, shaky, exhausted—but glowing with pride. Three rabbits. One boar. Hard-earned victories.
Jons opened the door and glanced at him, then at the animals. He nodded once. "Adequate."
Serik nearly collapsed from joy.
"Your bath is prepared," Jons added. "I will begin cooking."
Serik dragged himself inside. "…Zetsu is evil," he muttered. "But also incredible."
"Welcome to Nen training," Jons replied.