Kevin laid out several of his hand-crafted potions on the table. "My rapid progress is largely thanks to this ability as well," he said, a note of genuine humility in his voice. In truth, it was the synergistic combination of Blank Meteor and A Moment of Dream that had fueled his explosive growth.
He then gave Bisky a concise overview of how his alchemical Nen ability functioned.
After listening, Bisky nodded thoughtfully; it aligned closely with her initial deductions upon first seeing the table. "Kite or Sanbica would absolutely love your ability," she remarked.
"Who?" Kevin had no frame of reference.
Bisky waved a dismissive hand. "Friends of mine. Don't worry about it. Let's stay focused on your ability." She picked up one of the Strength Potions. "So, you're saying if someone else drinks a potion you've made, there are side effects?"
Kevin nodded. "Since my amnesia, I haven't given any of my potions to others, so I don't know the exact nature of the side effects. I only know they won't outweigh the potion's benefits."
"Hmm…" Bisky pondered, a flicker of surprise in her eyes. "That's somewhat unusual. Your ability is undeniably support-type. For such abilities, causing side effects to the beneficiary is typically the last thing that should happen." She shook the vial gently.
Kevin felt an internal wince. There hadn't been side effects before. They manifested after the original owner's death. Post-Mortem Nen was just that extreme and selfish. Even in death, the original Kevin's obsession wasn't vengeance against Jin, but the endless pursuit of crafting fascinating potions. That selfish will now tainted the potions Kevin brewed, imposing a tax on anyone else who used them.
"However, I can understand this 'flaw'," Bisky continued, though her tone suggested a deeper critique. Kevin caught her meaning and nodded silently.
"In my professional opinion," she said, her expression turning slightly disdainful as she examined the vial, "the cost-to-benefit ratio of this ability is… disproportionate. You must procure the materials yourself, with the risk of total loss if you fail. It requires deep, specialized knowledge for research and formulation. It forces you into a Zetsu state during use. And while you haven't stated it, there's undoubtedly a significant drain on your latent aura capacity. With so many restrictions and costs, the result is… this?" She shook the Strength Potion again, her implication clear: the payoff seemed paltry.
Kevin was taken aback. He'd always viewed A Moment of Dream as his golden ticket, his ultimate advantage. In the eyes of a true master, was it really that mediocre? If this was its enhanced, Post-Mortem state, how weak must the original version have been?
"Among these conditions, the forced Zetsu is a particularly severe drawback," Bisky continued. "With so many restrictions, the resulting potion should logically achieve a far more potent effect." She leaned forward suddenly, her gaze sharpening. "No, I retract my earlier assessment. Tell me about the Enhancement-type ability you constructed for yourself. Of course, if revealing its mechanics would create a fatal weakness, then don't."
Mori, sensing the shift to sensitive information, quietly got up to leave.
"Don't worry," Kevin assured him. "My ability isn't the type that can be easily countered."
Hearing this, Mori's curiosity won out, and he silently resumed his seat.
Kevin then gave a brief explanation of Blank Meteor.
After listening, even Mori had to admit it didn't seem like an ability with obvious, exploitable rules. He relaxed slightly.
Bisky looked at Kevin, a slow, approving smile spreading across her face. She reached out and gave his shoulder a firm pat. "That's much better. It seems you have a very clear understanding of your own strengths and have integrated them quite cleverly." She was visibly pleased.
In her expert view, Kevin's two Nen abilities, taken in isolation, were rather unimpressive. But combined, they told a different story—a story of clever synergy and self-aware design.
"So," she concluded, setting the potion down, "the help you need from me is regarding the sources or acquisition channels for high-grade, precious materials?"
"Exactly," Kevin confirmed, relief and anticipation washing over him. This was the guidance he'd been hoping for.
The bedrock of his abilities was [materials].
With sufficiently potent [materials], his strength could skyrocket. The problem was, many such materials couldn't be acquired with money alone. Moreover, Kevin needed to verify their properties—whether they would trigger that instinctive "craving"—before he could even use them.
"Hmm, hmm." Bisky cleared her throat with a smug little hum, taking two light, almost dancing steps. She crossed her arms and tilted her chin up slightly. "Mori."
"Yes!" Mori responded, producing a long, slender case from a bag at his side.
"This is my gift to you," Bisky announced.
As a Hunter—a Two-Star Hunter, no less—Bisky's information network and intelligence-gathering capabilities were formidable. She had, of course, been discreetly monitoring Kevin's activities. She'd noted the massive, worldwide expenditures on rare materials through various online channels. It wasn't hard to deduce this was driven by his Nen ability's requirements.
"Take a look. See if it's what you need."
Kevin's eyes lit up. "A gift!? You're too good to me, Princess Bisky!" he exclaimed without a hint of restraint.
Bisky basked in the praise for a moment, then asked an odd, non-sequitur question. "Have you… looked in a mirror recently?"
"?" Kevin was baffled. Does she think I look haggard? "No, I…" he admitted, "I have a bit of resistance to looking in mirrors."
"Then you'd better take a look. Maybe you won't be resistant anymore after you do." With that, she pulled a small, ornate hand mirror from her purse and offered it to him.
Puzzled, Kevin took the mirror and raised it to his face.
His eyes flew wide. He quickly flipped the mirror face-down on the table. "This is… me?" His voice was thick with disbelief.
"When I watched your match earlier, I was genuinely startled," Mori chimed in from the side.
Tentatively, Kevin picked the mirror up again.
He felt an unexpected, hot prickling behind his eyes.
The face in the mirror was now strikingly similar—at least seventy percent—to his own appearance from his previous world. The remaining thirty percent came from the original body's handsome but formerly gloomy features. The two had merged. The pervasive, shadowy gloom that had clung to the original Kevin was completely gone, replaced by a warm, steady, sunlit vitality. He no longer had to force himself to accept a stranger's reflection as his own. It was an unexpected and profound gift.
"Open the present and have a look," Bisky said gently, redirecting the moment. "It's a rather nice trophy I acquired some time ago."
Nodding, his emotions still swirling, Kevin turned his attention to the long case. He unlatched and opened it.
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