The wind howled through the cliffs of Whale Island, brushing over the turquoise waters that glittered under the morning sun. It was a quiet place—peaceful, serene, removed from the rest of the world's chaos. But hidden in its simplicity was the birthplace of countless stories. One such story began in a small wooden house nestled among the tall trees just outside the village.
Inside, a boy stood on a chair, stretching to reach the dusty old bookshelf. His fingers curled around a thick volume titled "Journeys of Nen: Theories of the Mind and Soul." The cover was worn, and the corners bent from years of being read and reread. This book wasn't ordinary—not for Kaen, a twelve-year-old whose obsessions ran deeper than most boys his age.
Kaen had unruly black hair, often tied in a short knot at the back, and eyes the color of amber honey that glowed with curiosity. He wasn't like the other children on the island. While they played by the shore or climbed the cliffs, Kaen devoured books—especially the ones left behind by his mysterious father, a man no one spoke of but whom Kaen longed to understand.
He opened the book and let the pages flip until he found the diagram he'd stared at a hundred times: the Ten principles of Nen. He traced the shapes with his fingers—Ten, Zetsu, Ren, Hatsu, Gyo… They called to him like the language of a lost world.
From outside, the sound of a fishing bell rang. "Kaen!" called Aunt Mito, wiping her hands on her apron. "Don't forget to bring in the nets! You promised!"
"Coming!" he shouted, placing a bookmark and tucking the volume under his arm.
As he made his way down to the shore, he muttered bits of text to himself, mimicking the exercises he'd read about. He had no teacher, no formal training. But Kaen was smart. He didn't just read—he understood. He theorized. He experimented.
And unknown to everyone on Whale Island, Kaen had already awakened his aura months ago.
⸻
That night, Kaen sat under the stars, cross-legged on the edge of the cliff where he'd built a little sanctuary. A circle of stones marked the boundary of his training ground. He exhaled slowly, allowing the warmth in his chest to flow outward. His aura extended and wrapped around his body like a thin mist. It was clumsy at first—but tonight, it was refined.
He began the practice of Ten, strengthening the aura around his body to protect him from the elements. Then Zetsu—he shut his aura flow entirely. The silence in his body was deafening, but calm.
And then, for the final part: Hatsu.
He had discovered his ability just two weeks ago, during a moment of pure insight as he read a passage on memory and Nen. His eyes had widened; his heart had raced.
He'd named it:
Mind Palace – a Nen ability that allowed him to use any Nen technique he fully understood, and create new variations of them using his own imagination. But only if he could truly grasp how they worked. No half-measures. No mimicry without comprehension.
Kaen closed his eyes.
In his mind, a vast palace stood. Endless corridors branched into rooms filled with symbols, diagrams, and mental projections. He walked through the palace now, barefoot on marble floors that shimmered like moonlight. He passed a room labeled "Zushi – Shingen-Ryu Nen Basic Techniques," where a small version of Zushi performed Ten, Ren, and Gyo in a loop. He'd watched videos online, dissected them, replayed them until he could visualize every muscle contraction.
Another room held an image of a girl using In. Kaen had never met her, but he'd read her abilities from a leaked Hunter Association field report. His memory was perfect, and his understanding nearly as deep.
And then there were the rooms he created—imaginative branches of Nen never seen before.
In one, a whip made of solidified aura coiled and uncoiled like a serpent. He called it "Cognition Lash"—an enhancement technique that inflicted a burst of false sensory data onto an opponent, tricking them into perceiving time slower or faster.
In another, he developed "Echo Scribe," where he projected a clone of a Nen ability he'd used in the last ten minutes—at 30% power, but with a delayed activation like a time bomb.
But he was still limited. His Mind Palace didn't grant instant mastery. He needed input. Data. Battle footage. Textbooks. Conversations. The more he learned, the larger the palace grew.
Suddenly, Kaen snapped out of his trance.
A presence.
Someone was near.
He shifted into Gyo instinctively, focusing aura into his eyes. From the trees behind him, a ripple of energy shimmered. He stepped back, pulse quickening.
Then, from the shadows, a voice called out.
"Not bad for a kid with no teacher."
Kaen spun around. A tall man stepped forward, dressed in a long cloak, his face half-hidden behind a scarf. His aura flared briefly—just enough to intimidate.
"I sensed your Ren from across the ridge," the man continued. "You're reckless. But interesting."
"Who are you?" Kaen asked, keeping his stance low.
The man held up a small card. The symbol of a Hunter's License gleamed in the moonlight. "Just a traveler. Name's Vane. And I think you've got potential. But you're wasting it here."
Kaen didn't lower his guard. "What do you want?"
"To train you," Vane said, folding his arms. "Because an ability like yours? If you don't learn to control it, it'll consume you."
Kaen hesitated. "You know about my ability?"
"I know enough," Vane replied. "You're a Specialist. Or something beyond it. You built a Mind Palace? That's not something just anyone can do. You're already tapping into synthesis—the creation of abilities. That's dangerous."
Kaen looked out to the sea. The breeze had stilled.
He had long dreamed of leaving Whale Island—not because he hated it, but because he knew he didn't belong. His world was out there, where Hunters fought, explored, and uncovered the unknown.
"Alright," Kaen said at last, turning to Vane with a firm gaze. "Teach me."
⸻
To be continued in Chapter 2: Training ghosts.