"I don't have the habit of making others wait for me."
The jellyfish-like anomaly had vanished within two days of its discovery, leaving no trace across the Six Continents.
As for the dazzlingly beautiful gourd-shaped stone, it initially appeared harmless when discovered. After cautious testing revealed no immediate danger, the discoverer deemed it a treasure and sold it to a wealthy collector at a hefty price.
However, one day while admiring his collection, the rich man was horrified to find the stone multiplying rapidly. It soon filled his entire gallery, obliterating all his prized artifacts.
Worse, several fragments of the stone escaped, their rampant proliferation wreaking havoc in the surrounding area. It took a monumental effort—and the intervention of skilled Environmental and Hunters from the Hunter Association—to contain the disaster.
Such are the tales etched into history: a few celebrated successes shining brightly, overshadowing the heaps of failures and broken dreams beneath them.
Even so, countless people, believing themselves to be the exception, flocked to Braga—a city notorious for its allure and peril.
Over centuries, the accumulated despair of the dead, unable to move on, had saturated the land with resentment, transforming it into a hellish domain. Ironically, this fearsome reputation also filtered out the faint-hearted, leaving only seasoned adventurers and elite Hunters to brave its dangers.
When Ronnel stepped off the airship and onto the streets of Braga, the oppressive atmosphere hit him immediately.
Unlike the vibrant luxury of Yorknew City, Braga carried an air of chilling intensity—a mingling of blood, iron, and death. A quick glance at the passersby told Ronnel everything: these people were no ordinary civilians.
They were strong.
Ronnel withdrew his gaze and calmly headed toward the rendezvous point where Ging was waiting.
The Braga Plain lay at the northwest edge of the city, straddling the line between relative safety and utter chaos. Southward, the city of Braga provided a rare sanctuary. To the north, however, lay a wasteland teeming with resentful spirits and lethal hazards.
Even the plain itself held dangers, lurking just out of sight.
At the entrance to the plain, Ronnel spotted a lone figure standing with his back to him. Quickening his pace, Ronnel soon got close enough to take in the man's distinctive appearance.
A weathered, unshaven face; a gray and white robe with a black and blue collar, and a green turban that bore an almost Arabian flair.
Despite his disheveled state, the resemblance was unmistakable: the man looked like Gon, aged several decades.
This was Ging Freecss.
"Yo! Ronnel," Ging greeted with a casual grin, his voice light yet familiar. "You're early—ten minutes ahead of schedule."
Ronnel raised an eyebrow. "It's only ten minutes. You're earlier than me."
"Hah! I don't have the habit of making others wait," Ging replied with a laugh, digging into his robes to pull out a bright red apple.
"Care for one? It's a top variety from Laney Orchard. My favorite!"
Ronnel eyed the apple, its glossy skin undeniably appealing. But then he glanced at Ging's less-than-sanitary hands and immediately declined.
"No thanks. I've got a thing about cleanliness—especially when it comes to food."
Ging scratched his head nonchalantly. "Fair enough. I've met stranger quirks."
Taking a big bite of the apple himself, he chewed thoughtfully before addressing the task at hand.
"I've read about your abilities online. I know you can dispel resentment and death energy, but I need to confirm something before we head out." Ging's tone grew serious, his eyes sharp and calculating.
"The ruins we're exploring are steeped in death and malice. One wrong move, and you could lose more than just your footing. I've prepared some equipment, but are you absolutely certain you're up to this?"
"If it's only resentment and death energy, then I'll manage," Ronnel replied confidently.
Ging scrutinized him, his gaze unwavering.
"I'm handling beasts, plants, and other hazards, but I didn't bring more Nen users for backup because I wasn't sure you could hold your own. In a worst-case scenario, even I can only guarantee saving two people in our group."
"You can call them over now if it'll make you feel better," Ronnel offered with a calm smile.
Ging smirked and shook his head. "Nah. I already turned them down once. If I go crawling back now, I'll never hear the end of it."
Tossing the apple core aside, Ging motioned toward the plain. "Alright, let's move. We've got work to do."
But as Ging started walking, he noticed Ronnel wasn't following. He turned back, puzzled.
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