The orphanage was only a ten-minute walk from the school. Cade strolled along the quiet road, surrounded by towering trees, their branches swaying gently in the wind. There were no signs of modern life, no traffic, no noise—just the sound of his footsteps crunching against the gravel path. As he neared the end of the walk, a large building appeared in the distance. It resembled an old cathedral, its gothic structure standing tall, though the paint had peeled in many places, showing the wear of time. Still, despite its age, the building held its dignity, standing firm against the winds and rain.

This building was once a magnificent place of prayer, filled with reverence and purpose. Now, however, it stood as a mere shadow of its former self, repurposed into an orphanage, its grand past quietly fading into time.

Cade reached the worn-out metal door, its cold surface towering twice his six-foot height. He placed a hand against it and pushed. The door opened, revealing a spacious hall.

"Hmmm, this door definitely needs maintenance," Cade thought as he fiddled with the hinges. But he also knew the place was running on tight finances. The orphanage was a two-story building. On the ground floor were the storeroom, the laundry room, and the kitchen. He could still smell the scent of laundry detergent in the air. Cade’s eyes briefly scanned the hall before his gaze landed on the wooden staircase lining the far wall, leading to the upper floor.

As he stepped forward, a thudding sound echoed from the stairs, signaling someone’s approach. A woman with a soft, plump figure emerged, wearing simple clothes. Her caramel hair was tied into a neat bun. In her arms, she cradled a small boy, no older than a year, lazily sucking on a bottle.

"I’m home, Sister Yuna," Cade said, smiling as he saw her familiar, warm face.

She returned his smile with a gentle, motherly expression. "Yes, you’re home. Here, hold little John for me while I make you something to eat." She handed the baby to Cade, who adjusted the boy in his arms as Sister Yuna headed into the kitchen. Little John wasn’t too pleased about the exchange, fussing slightly as Cade tried to soothe him with gentle teasing.

Cade headed up the stairs, thinking about the orphanage. Sister Yuna stood as the sole head of the orphanage, overseeing the care of seven children, Cade among them. Each day, she managed every responsibility, from cooking meals to ensuring the children received their education. The orphanage's survival depended on the support of its former residents, those who had once lived within its walls and had now grown, moved on, and sent back what little they could to help keep the place running.

With the baby in his arms, Cade made his way upstairs. The first floor opened into a wide living area, dominated by a large couch at its center. Scattered chairs and worn furniture filled the hall, and across from the couch, an old TV sat against the wall. On the couch, Brody, a four-year-old chubby boy, sprawled out like a miniature king, his tiny feet sticking out in all directions. Cade chuckled at the sight.

Next to Brody were Lily and Lucy, twin girls dressed in matching outfits. They sat on the edge of the couch, prim and proper, giving Cade a polite nod as he entered. He smiled back at them, taking another step forward.

Shwoom...

Suddenly, a sharp swoosh cut through the air. Without a second thought, Cade’s hand shot out, and he caught the hard leather ball sailing toward him with a firm grip. He turned his head to see Shaw, an eight-year-old boy with black spiky hair, standing there, a look of pure disappointment on his face.

"Aw, come on! I thought I had you this time for sure!" Shaw whined, his hands falling to his sides. Though he barely felt it, the throw had been powerful, much stronger than Cade would expect from a child.

"Sometimes I forget I’m now living in a fantasy world where talented individuals can do all sorts of crazy feats," Cade thought with amusement.

He glanced down at the rough ball in his hand, feeling its weight. Shaw’s mood shifted as a mischievous grin crept onto his face.

"Can you teach me how to do that?" Shaw asked, his voice full of hope.

Cade smirked. "Only if you can catch this."

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

With a swift motion, Cade drew his arm back and hurled the ball toward Shaw, aiming just beside his temple. Before Shaw could register the throw, the ball whizzed past him, missing him by a hair. Shaw’s eyes widened in shock as he realized how close the ball had come.

"Hey!" Shaw's distressed shout pierced the air as he sprinted to catch the ball. Passing little John to the Lucy sisters, who were watching the old, flickering TV, Cade sat down comfortably in the middle of the couch.

The news anchor on the TV was mentioning current affairs around the world. That is, until one particular news item caught Cade's eye.

"And now, in today's major headlines, billionaire Mr. Battera’s wife, who fell into a coma after a tragic car accident close to a decade ago, still shows no signs of waking up. Doctors suggest there is little hope for her recovery anytime soon. On the other hand, Mr. Battera is still looking to hire professionals to clear the magical game Greed Island in hopes of acquiring a magical potion to heal his wife."

Cade’s eyes narrowed, catching the weight of the news. His gaze shifted subtly before returning to normal.

"Heh, ‘magical potion,’ she says," Cade thought with amusement. "Well, Breath of the Angel is a card acquired after someone clears the game. Its effect can even bring someone back from the brink of death, so it’s not wrong to call it a magical potion."

Cade's heart pounded with anticipation as the world outside teetered on the edge of extraordinary events about to unfold. He couldn’t let these pivotal moments pass him by.

After lunch, he slipped away to his room, one of the few private rooms in the orphanage. Only Sister Yuna and Cade had private rooms; the rest of the children were crammed together in a large, shared space. Cade’s room was modest, functional—a single bed, stacks of books piled haphazardly in one corner, and a simple wardrobe for his clothes. He placed his bag on the side of the bed, changed into his casual clothes, and neatly hung his uniform back in the cabinet. If there was one thing he couldn’t stand, it was messiness.

Sitting cross-legged on the bed, Cade closed his eyes, taking deep breaths to clear his mind of the day’s distractions. He pushed away thoughts of the past, present, and future, entering a deep meditative focus. Slowly, he became aware of a strange yet familiar sensation coursing through his veins—a viscous energy moving under his skin like blood. It was as if he could feel the very life force of this world pulsing within him. This was Nen, a power he had only ever read about in stories, now real, tangible, seeping through his pores in wisps. Cade began to gather the Nen that leaked from his body, pulling it back in, concentrating it into specific points, like filling balloons with air.

This wasn’t a skill that came to him overnight. It had taken him two weeks of relentless practice, trial, and error. But Cade persisted. His understanding of Nen was pieced together from countless hours of watching anime and sheer determination. Today, he was on the verge of something bigger.

"Just a little more... and I can open my aura nodes today. I won’t give up, not now," Cade muttered, his teeth clenched, sweat beading down his forehead. His mind was sharp, and emotions rarely clouded his judgment, but controlling Nen required him to let go of all inhibition. His eyes burned red from the strain, but he pressed on, mentally wrestling with the energy inside him.

Time passed agonizingly slowly, and then—finally—a soft pop. Cade’s body went slack, deflating like a balloon that had lost all its air. He collapsed onto the bed, gasping, his chest heaving like a fish struggling for air. For a few minutes, he just lay there, recovering.

When he gathered enough strength, he resumed his meditation. This time, controlling the Nen felt effortless. It responded instantly to his mental commands, no longer leaking from his pores but pulled tightly within him. He entered a state of Zetsu, diminishing his presence to almost nothing. A stupid grin spread across his face, wide and triumphant.

“Fuck yeah!” he shouted, forgetting for a moment where he was—the orphanage, with the other kids.

"Oh, crap," Cade thought, wincing.

A knock on the door broke his train of thought. “Cade? Is everything alright in there?” Sister Yuno’s voice was gentle but laced with concern.

Cade scrambled to his feet, rushing to the door. “Everything’s fine, Sister! Really, I’m okay.” After a few more reassurances and profuse apologies, he convinced her nothing was amiss.

After a while, Cade sat down on his bed, his mind calm and collected. He leaned back and thought about his next course of action. It was time to determine his Nen category. He had studied the six categories:

Enhancers, capable of strengthening their bodies or weapons.

Transmuters, able to alter the properties of their aura into things like electricity.

Emitters, who developed long-range abilities.

Conjurers, known for creating objects and giving them strange abilities.

Manipulators, who could control living or non-living things.

Specialists, who didn’t fit into any of the other categories.

He thought back to the personality traits Hisoka, a perverted hunter in the anime, had attributed to each category. Enhancers, Hisoka said, were straightforward and persistent. They acted on instinct, guided by their emotions, and rarely, if ever, resorted to dishonesty. Transmuters, on the other hand, were deceptive by nature. They concealed their true emotions behind layers of lies, their behavior unpredictable and hard to pin down. Emitters had a short temper, quick to react and often impulsive in their actions. They lacked patience for details and preferred swift resolutions. Manipulators approached life with a steady, logical mindset, moving at their own pace. The only time they strayed from this logic was when their loved ones were in danger. Conjurers were known for their seriousness and caution, never losing focus once they set their sights on a goal. Specialists, however, stood apart from the rest. They were unique, charismatic individuals who thrived in solitude yet somehow attracted others to them. Unlike the other types, Specialists could only develop a single Hatsu, making them all the more mysterious and powerful.

“Of course, Hisoka’s analysis isn’t perfect,” he mused, “but it’s a good starting point. By his standards, I’m either a Conjurer or a Specialist. Honestly, I’d prefer being a Specialist.”

Cade needed to know which category he belonged to. For that, he needed to perform a water divination. Rising quickly, he bolted downstairs, grabbed a few leaves, and filled a glass of water from the kitchen. Back in his room, he settled down on the floor, placing the glass in front of him with a leaf floating on the surface of the water.

Taking a deep breath, Cade cupped the glass with both hands and focused his aura into it. He watched intently, the air around him thick with anticipation. Moments passed, and then the water began to shift. Slowly, it turned a deep black, and small black impurities started to form, settling at the bottom of the glass.

"Heh, so I’m not a Specialist after all." A wry smile crossed his lips.

He sat back, letting out a small sigh. "Fine. Conjurers aren’t bad either. I’ll just have to get creative

and make do with what I’ve got," he said aloud, his voice filled with newfound resolve.