Kurapika knew that Neon was his foundation, while the assassination group merely catered to the Ten Dons—a nice bonus but not essential. Even if he couldn't appear in person this time, he'd have another chance. But if something happened to Neon, there would be no future for him.
Kurapika understood the stakes and, though calm, couldn't shake a hint of unease. Staying out of touch with the Phantom Troupe these past couple of days might be for the best. Just as he thought that, his phone rang.
"Hello?"
"It's me, Kurapika!"
"Gon?"
"Yeah, listen—we ran into the Troupe earlier and got caught…"
In the streets, Gon and Killua had barely managed to escape Nobunaga. Finding a safe spot, Gon quickly called Kurapika. After Kurapika recovered from the shock, he unleashed a storm of reprimands on the two boys.
Meanwhile, in an abandoned building…
"Those two little brats… they got away…" Nobunaga stared in disbelief at the gaping hole in the wall, his sword limp at his side.
"Hehehe~"
"Shut up, Hisoka. Get rid of that creepy face, and stop laughing!"
"Hehehehe!"
"I said, shut up!"
Losing his temper, Nobunaga lashed out, feeling outsmarted by two kids, and Hisoka's mocking laughter only added insult to injury. Leorio shook his head nearby, visibly unimpressed.
Anyone would be humiliated after getting tricked by two kids—especially as a member of the world's most notorious criminal group.
"Ah, so they slipped right through Nobunaga's fingers, huh? Impressive. I can't wait to see what kind of abilities they develop," mused Shizuku, a sinister smile creeping across her face.
Elsewhere, atop a skyscraper, Chrollo had assumed the role of maestro, conducting a violent symphony in the chaos of Yorknew City as the flames of war flared.
"Click."
Phinks emerged from a thicket, snapping the necks of two gangsters with a swift, brutal efficiency before moving forward. Beside him, Feitan—clad in black and bone—darted through the underworld ranks. With little more than a flick of his hand, Feitan decapitated his foes effortlessly.
"Bang, bang, bang!!"
"Rat-a-tat-tat!"
Franklin's machine-gun fists fired mercilessly, his powerful frame covered in "aura," rendering the gangsters' bullets as harmless as rain. Meanwhile, Kortopi stood unharmed nearby, occasionally taking his own shots.
"Swish~!"
Machi, deft as a puppeteer, strung up her enemies, while Pakunoda manipulated other gang members into turning their guns on their allies. Shalnark was doing something similar, treating this brutal spectacle as a mere game.
He called out, "Ronnel, you can take over another area if you want. I can manage things here."
"Just making sure you're not going solo," Ronnel replied with a grin, darting towards Machi and the others to stay visible on the front lines.
His goal was simple: by proving his loyalty to the Troupe, Chrollo would have no reason to suspect him.
Chrollo, as sharp and mistrustful as he was, wouldn't miss the smallest detail.
On the top floor of the auction building, Ronnel noticed a blood-stained trail that Chrollo seemed to have deliberately left. A slight smile formed on his lips.
As the master of this farewell requiem, Chrollo was clearly making his presence known. The blood marking the path likely came from Chrollo's victims, left as bait for any other killers. Intriguing…
Ronnel raised his right hand, tapping his face lightly before slipping on a mask from his bag. Now disguised, he glanced behind him.
Footsteps echoed down the empty corridor as a man from the security feed—the one in the hat—appeared.
"You're here because you smelled blood too, huh?"
For the coming battle, the man had discarded his hat. His pale face wore a crazed, thrilled grin, eyes alight with bloodlust after witnessing Chrollo's speed earlier. This was his ideal opponent. Anticipation coursed through him, making him tremble slightly.
"I'd advise you to get out while you can. This opponent is beyond your level, unless you want to end up like this," he sneered, pointing at the blood-stained trail on the floor.
Ronnel cast an unimpressed glance at him, finding him no less twisted than Hisoka. Without a word, he strode ahead, following the path.
"Tch. Fool. A fool like you will only get in the way!" the man hissed, the sight of Ronnel's indifference only fueling his excitement. With a gleeful snarl, he drew a knife and lunged forward.
"Go to hell!"
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