[19]: Head Held Too High

Cyr flipped the card over and saw a faint line of text:

[Upright Hierophant] — Buff Card.

A buff card? So, it grants positive effects? That would imply there are also debuff cards for applying negative effects.

But what exactly was the Hierophant's buff?

After spending half a day in District 12 under the influence of the Hierophant card, Cyr came to a few conclusions.

So far, the Hierophant seemed to have three primary effects:

1. Enhanced Persuasion:

This was evident from how easily both the children and Sid believed whatever he said.

2. Attraction and Favor from Young Boys:

Judging by the way every boy in District 12 gazed at him with utter reliance, this was undeniable. However, there seemed to be no effect on young girls.

3. Inducing Offerings:

Sid had already dashed off to retrieve his so-called life savings. Meanwhile, several boys, carrying food they'd hidden away for themselves, eagerly offered it up.

Additional effects remained undiscovered—possibly because he hadn't explored the card's full potential.

However, gaining the favor of young boys? What kind of hellish joke was that?

Did it inherit the hobbies of those religious nutjobs that are called priests?

Cyr stared at the second effect, expressionless, his thoughts in turmoil.

And the third effect? It seemed designed to bankrupt people entirely.

Just look at these kids, offering him food even though they might go hungry without it.

Cyr found himself thinking that this ability is ridiculously fun.

Still, he wasn't interested in taking the children's cherished food. Waving them away, he turned his attention to Sid, who had returned in a hurry.

Sid clutched a worn leather wallet, clearly used for years, and eagerly pulled out several cards.

"This is all my savings. Take it—you'll definitely need it," Sid insisted, forcing the contents into Cyr's hands.

"And this," he added, holding out a Hunter License. "You can pawn it for a billion if necessary. It might come in handy…"

Sid looked ready to strip himself bare for Cyr.

The Hierophant card… truly wicked.

Cyr mockingly chastised his own ability before speaking. "I won't need the Hunter License. What's the PIN for your bank cards?" he asked, his mischievous smile unhidden as he casually accepted Sid's bank cards.

Sid, surprisingly, had five of them.

"The PINs are…" Sid obediently listed each one without hesitation.

"Good. I'll take them then," Cyr said, nodding. He made a few mock ceremonial hand gestures and added, "The gods will bless you."

Patting Sid on the chest, he deftly slipped the cards back into his pocket, picked up the backpack Sid had prepared, and retrieved the valuables he had previously buried beneath the church. Without a second thought, Cyr left Meteor City behind.

He felt no attachment to this place, even after spending several months here.

The only downside of leaving through District 13 was the overwhelming garbage heaps, which interfered with his Six Eyes.

The constant analysis of the endless piles of waste overwhelmed his senses, and all he wanted was to escape.

As he approached the boundary wall—a mere obstacle, not tall enough to keep anyone out—Meteor City receded into the distance.

The air grew fresher, free of the faint stench of decay.

---

[System Notification]

Host has left the starting point, Meteor City.

Main Storyline Tasks Unlocked:

Task 1: Seek the Seven Treasures of Beauty.

Task 2: Explore the current world.

Current World Exploration: 0.1%

Complete the main tasks to unlock the next world transfer.

Cyr stared at the mission: The Seven Treasures of Beauty?

The first names that popped into his head were Chrollo, Hisoka, and Illumi.

But he quickly shook his head. Wrong. The Seven Treasures weren't people; they were objects. The only one he could recall was the Scarlet Eyes—the rest were a complete blank.

It seemed getting a Hunter License was a must. Whether it was exploring the world or finding these treasures, it would be far more convenient.

That 0.1% world exploration progress was mocking him. Was it because he had spent all his time wandering around Meteor City? Did the system expect him to travel the entire world?

What a hassle.

Cyr pulled out the other two cards he had drawn earlier:

[Reversed Tower] — Debuff Card.

[Upright Sun] — Buff Card.

As with the Hierophant card, there were no clear explanations for their effects. However, both had a countdown, with numbers rapidly decreasing.

It seemed he had a limited time to use them.

Curious, he decided to wait and see what would happen if he didn't use them before the timer ran out.

Three minutes later—

A white-haired old man, frail but brimming with energy, expressionlessly resumed his journey.

Now he understood what happened if he failed to use the cards in time. Both effects were applied to him.

He also discovered part of the cards' abilities:

[Reversed Tower] Effect 1: Aging.

[Upright Sun] Effect 1: Increased energy.

The combination was a cruel joke. His body was aged and sluggish, yet he felt boundless energy. It was like wearing an ill-fitting suit—everything felt tight and uncomfortable.

Especially in his Hierophant robes, which only enhanced the impression of him as an ancient pope.

The bizarre mismatch of soul and body persisted for 24 hours.

First, the Hierophant robes vanished. Moments later, his youthful appearance returned. Smooth skin, striking features—a boy of twelve or thirteen.

Cyr sighed in relief as he touched his face.

The experience made him realize he wasn't ready to confront aging. Terrifying.

He also harbored fears of marriage and parenthood. He embodied every anxiety typical of today's youth.

Yet none of this conflicted with his fascination with his ability.

The cards, after all, could be used on others. He looked forward to testing them on someone else.

From the timer on the cards, he deduced they had a 30-minute usage window. If not used on someone else within that time, their effects would backfire on him.

Additionally, card effects could stack, but with the randomness of each draw, predicting outcomes would be difficult.

If he recalled correctly, the Tarot deck had 78 cards. Each draw of three cards would yield unique combinations, and he could only draw again after 24 hours.

An unpredictable and complex ability.

The Tarot was often associated with natural law, also known as the Library of Nature's Secrets.

With that in mind, he named his ability:

"The Wheel of Law."

"Time to move on." Refreshed, Cyr finally felt ready to utilize Cursed Technique: Blue to speed up his journey.

---

Near the Gordeau Desert, a small town sat at the desert's edge. Originally a trade post for passing caravans, it had grown into a permanent settlement.

Though small, the town was bustling, with merchants leading camels and goods across its stone-paved streets.

"I don't remember the exact process for the Hunter Exam," Cyr muttered, walking along the street, wracking his brain for details.

He could recall some characters and locations, but most of the exam's specifics were hazy.

"Well, something about the Hunter Association using ordinary people or even beasts as guides. To find the actual exam site, you'd have to interact with them…" He scanned his surroundings.

Plenty of ordinary people and camels, but no sign of magical beasts.

Cyr had arrived in Meteor City on January 8, 1997, and now it was December 25, 1997.

The Hunter Exam would take place on January 7, 1998, and he needed to reach the exam site by then to register in person. He also vaguely remembered needing to sign a waiver of liability.

The upcoming exam was the 286th Hunter Exam. Gon and Killua would participate in the 287th Exam the following year.

He knew that location but wasn't keen on waiting another year.

—-—

Town

Most of the population were burly men, armed to the teeth and looking like gangsters or bandits. The few women were just as intimidating—broad-shouldered and sun-darkened, their muscular arms rivaling Cyr's legs.

Children were rare, and those that were visible clung to their homes like shadows.

The town had everything from fruit stands and weapon shops to inns and taverns. Yet Cyr's Six Eyes noticed the hidden, watchful gazes aimed his way.

In a sea of rugged desert dwellers, Cyr stood out like a lamb among wolves.

"Even kids are getting into the game now," sneered one of the town's hulking men. He nodded toward the slim, white-haired boy.

"Bet he's some rich kid with dreams of becoming a Hunter," another mocked.

"Look at that tattoo. Probably fake, just for show."

The men laughed, leaning against each other near a dim alleyway, their voices loud and derisive.

Cyr's eyes flicked toward them when he heard the words pale skin and tattoo.

"What you lookin at, kid?" one of the men called out. "Better drink more milk and grow up first."

They took a few menacing steps forward, forming a tight circle around him. At nearly two meters tall, they towered over Cyr, casting long shadows that blocked out the desert sun.

Some of the merchants glanced over, hesitant to intervene.

Cyr, however, remained unfazed. His cold, detached gaze swept over them.

"Your heads are held too high," he said quietly.

A sudden, oppressive silence descended.

The sounds of the bustling town faded. All the men could hear was the rapid thudding of their own hearts. A palpable sense of dread settled in, as though something terrible was about to happen.

One man instinctively dropped to his knees, trembling.

"Hey, what are you—" one of his companions began, only to be cut off by a sharp, invisible force.

"SHHK—"

"AAAAHHHHHHH!"

In an instant, the standing men were sliced clean in half. Their torsos fell away from their legs, spilling intestines and blood onto the dusty ground.

The survivors clutched at their bisected bodies, futilely trying to piece themselves back together, wailing in agony.

The kneeling man dared to open his eyes, only to see the carnage surrounding him. His companions lay in bloody, dismembered heaps.

He looked down at himself, his clothes soaked in their blood. Though still alive, he was paralyzed with fear.

Cyr's cold, amused gaze met his.

"You made the right choice," Cyr said, his tone dripping with condescension.

The man's mind spiraled into despair. He understood the unspoken truth: had he not knelt in submission, he would have been reduced to the same grisly fate.

Trembling, he wet himself in terror.

[Congratulations, Host. Compatibility with Sukuna has increased.]

[Current Compatibility Levels: Gojo Satoru 20%, Sukuna 20%.]

Hearing the system notification, Cyr's mood lifted considerably. Feeling generous, he decided to spare the man who had made the "right choice."

He wasn't deliberately trying to boost his compatibility with Gojo Satoru or Sukuna. While he was a cosplayer, that didn't mean he wanted to play someone else all the time. His history of personal takes on characters showed that he was more about improvisation and fun than strict roleplay.

Without the initial 20% appearance-based boost to his compatibility with Gojo, it was clear his connection with Sukuna would naturally be higher. His nature leaned more toward Sukuna's personality, after all.

"Hey, you there, kid! Want to join our caravan?" a loud voice called out. Cyr ignored it.

The voice persisted, "You with the white hair and tattoos! Interested in working with us?"

That caught Cyr's attention. He glanced up to see a dark-skinned man dressed in a white robe and headscarf. The man was decked out in gold chains and gem-studded rings, practically radiating wealth.

Behind him, others in the caravan wore similar attire, resembling a group from the world's richest oil kingdom.

Seeing Cyr's acknowledgment, the leader flashed a dazzling smile, revealing a mouthful of pearly whites.

"Take a look at our task, young man!" he said, gesturing to a notice hanging on a nearby camel.

The notice read:

[Recruiting guards! Protect the caravan through the Gordeau Desert. Food and lodging provided. Compensation negotiable.]

Cyr, dressed in his simple sleeveless vest and carrying a plain white backpack, looked at the notice thoughtfully. His pale skin and intricate tattoos made him stand out even more against the rugged desert backdrop.

The caravan leader patiently awaited his decision. After a moment, Cyr asked, his blue eyes glinting with mischief, "Can I ride a camel?"

The leader was briefly taken aback but quickly nodded enthusiastically. "Of course! You can ride as much as you want!"

"Then we have a deal. Let's go," Cyr replied, accepting without even discussing payment.

"Perfect! Everyone, we've got our guard! Pack up—we're moving out!" the leader shouted to his team.

Almost instantly, a motley crew of armed men emerged from the nearby inns. They carried everything from guns and bows to machetes and spiked clubs. Their rugged appearances and fierce expressions made them look like they belonged in a battlefield.

Cyr, by contrast, strolled along with just his backpack, looking more like a student on a field trip than a bodyguard.

°°°

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