An endless azure sky stretched above, and beneath it, an airship sliced through the white clouds. Kevin sat back in his seat, sipping coffee, eyes fixed on the view outside. Airships—obsolete in his previous life—had replaced airplanes in this world. Ground transportation, however, mirrored what he had known. Perhaps that was simply the subtle difference between worlds.
"Dear passengers, we will soon be arriving at Saba City. Passengers whose destination is Saba City, please prepare…"
Kevin stood, collecting his luggage—the strange items he had brought from the jeep packed neatly—and made his way off the airship. He hailed a taxi, heading for his "home," a remote location on the outermost ring of the city, colloquially the suburbs. Despite its isolation, Kevin found himself satisfied with the detached house.
"Come on, brain, give me some memory fragments! You're a top student, don't act like an idiot," he muttered, scanning the three-story building. White exterior walls, a yard enclosed by a two-meter-high fence, and a separate garage. Inside and out, he explored meticulously until his memory led him to a basement.
Spacious and well-organized, the basement resembled a laboratory—not sinister in design, but devoted to chemical research. Beakers, droppers, and countless unfamiliar materials filled the room. A dedicated storage space held biological specimens submerged in unknown liquids: unidentified animals, massive limbs, brain matter, eyeballs, and internal organs.
"I'm not exactly a good person," Kevin remarked dryly, the fragments of memory stirring. He recalled refining substances at a potion table. No wonder the jeep had contained meticulously sorted herbal powders.
His investigation revealed that this body had graduated from the Royal Medical Academy of the Gugan Kingdom—one of the world's top institutions. The prodigious academic background aligned with the neatly arranged potions in a refrigerated cabinet.
"Wait, if it's for experiments, there should be lab journals," Kevin realized, quickly searching the nearby cabinet. A trove of experimental journals emerged, organized yet interspersed with casual notes and bursts of inspiration. Among the terminology, absurd and profound concepts appeared: *Life Energy, Ki, Nen, Soul…*
Delving deeper, Kevin felt instinctual memories surface—primal knowledge intertwined with basic comprehension of language and reasoning. A superpower innate to him after graduation awakened. Emotion surged from memory fragments: joy, madness, pride.
Raising his hands, Kevin channeled his Ki without the previously introduced techniques. It surged outward, tangible, condensing into a crystalline balance scale. Unlike any ordinary scale, it featured three pans arranged in a triangular formation—gold, silver, and copper. Beneath it, a hollowed base ten centimeters thick featured a central circular hole.
"A Moment of Dream," Kevin whispered, recognizing it instinctively. A potion-making machine, a Potion Crafting Station. He knew how to operate it: placing three different Materials on the corresponding pans and positioning an empty potion bottle in the hollow space below. By activating his Nen Ability, a potion of randomized properties would be produced.
But something was off.
Kevin rubbed his head as memories clashed with current knowledge. The method in his memory conflicted with what the station now showed him. He couldn't deceive himself, yet the mismatch gnawed at him. Why? What was the purpose of this discrepancy?
In his original memory, the [Materials] for potion crafting had been limited to tangible biological products—plants, animal parts, and similar substances. Now, however, an entirely new option had appeared: minerals. Naturally, all materials still had to be his own, items he possessed or had ownership of.
Even more striking, the effects of a potion—once a complete mystery until drinking—could now be roughly discerned by placing the materials on the scale. He could perform an action called [Estimation], giving him foresight into the outcome before crafting.
An enhancement, undoubtedly—but why? Was it a side effect of his transmigration, or some quirk of this world's rules? Kevin didn't fully understand, and he lacked any deep comprehension of Nen Abilities, but he could perceive the logic: the object before him was undeniably generated by Ki.
This realization overturned some of his previous worldview. Ki—life energy, usually thought of as a force to strengthen the body or unleash attacks—could now be materialized into a tangible, functional object capable of creation.
Reasonable? Perhaps not. Did it matter? Kevin didn't care. He had long since accepted the extraordinary: transmigration, possession, even body-snatching. This was simply another quirk of the world.
With a renewed sense of purpose, he began experimenting tirelessly with his "superpower," testing the scale, combining materials, and analyzing outcomes. The temptation of such abilities was intoxicating—any normal person would have been utterly consumed by the opportunity.
Only caution held him back: if others with similar powers were nearby, recklessness could bring trouble. Now, safely back at this "home," Kevin allowed himself a rare sense of relief.
Controlling Ki within his body came naturally, almost smooth like muscle memory. Strengthening his body with Ki—the most basic application of life energy—was effortless, intuitive. Expelling Ki, however, remained more difficult, requiring focus and precision.
Time passed in a blend of training, experimentation, and observation. The world outside might be complex and dangerous, but here, in the quiet of his basement, Kevin felt a rare sense of mastery forming—one small step closer to unlocking the full potential of his extraordinary new life.