Kaizen's pupils shrank.
The weapons these people wielded were far beyond ordinary. Even if they weren't as formidable as Poor Man's Rose, they weren't much weaker. The greatest difference lay in the massive figure looming at the center of the battlefield.
The middle-aged Kurta man controlling the giant's body looked grim.
A surge of unnatural aura enveloped him, and his skin began to fester.
Boom!
The giant vanished.
The man no longer had the strength to maintain its form. His body plummeted from the sky, signaling the inevitable destruction of the Kurta clan.
A massive net ensnared one of the faster Kurta warriors. A Manipulator-type Nen user wasted no time, driving a long spear straight into the Kurta's chest.
Another Kurta, capable of turning invisible, had reached his limit.
A blade slashed through his throat.
Pfft!
Seventeen more Kurta met the same fate, their throats cut in unison. Blood gushed out in torrents.
Under the control of shadows, several puppets swarmed another Kurta warrior.
Bonolenov raised his hand.
A massive sphere materialized above.
Boom!
It plummeted at incredible speed.
Then—
"Big Bang Impact!"
"Ripper Cyclotron!"
Uvogin and Phinks struck simultaneously. Their combined might was overwhelming. Even an A-rank Nen user couldn't withstand such an onslaught.
A figure stumbled out of the dust and debris.
Whoosh!
Feitan moved in an instant.
The Kurta warrior instinctively recoiled, only to step directly into Nobunaga's waiting trap.
"Quick-Draw Strike."
A flash of steel.
In the next moment, the Kurta fell to the ground, a deep gash splitting his back. His skin, his muscles—severed cleanly. Even the white of his bones was exposed.
Boom!
The last of the Kurta had fallen.
Unlike those before him, this one did not die with rage, hatred, or resentment in his eyes. Instead, his expression was one of relief.
Perhaps, after witnessing the massacre, he understood that the fate of his people was already sealed.
Against enemies this numerous and powerful, there was no escape for the Kurta.
Those without scarlet eyes were butchered like livestock.
Those with them were tortured, toyed with.
Their flaming red eyes—treated as commodities.
"It's over."
The surviving mercenaries and outsiders exhaled, some grinning with satisfaction.
Regardless of how many Scarlet Eyes they managed to harvest, this operation had guaranteed them a handsome reward.
The Kurta had existed in secrecy for generations—there had to be treasures hidden in their village. If found, it would be an unimaginable fortune.
"These damn red-eyed freaks put up a good fight," one of the mercenaries muttered. "We lost a lot of men."
Most of the dead were hired hands—disposable assets, of little concern to those in charge.
But some had come with comrades, with partners.
Not every group had the strength of the Phantom Troupe.
Kaizen surveyed the battlefield.
The valley was silent now. With the last Kurta fallen, all that remained was death.
Then, suddenly—
Kaizen's gaze landed on a lone figure.
A woman.
Long hair. White robes.
She exuded a cool and distant aura, starkly out of place in the blood-soaked valley. Unlike everyone else, there was almost no scent of blood on her.
And yet…
Something about her was familiar.
"Sheila!"
Kaizen's eyes narrowed.
He recognized her from the original story.
Sheila—the woman who had supposedly stumbled upon the Kurta's hidden village by accident. The one who befriended Kurapika and introduced him to the Hunter's Guide, setting him on the path to becoming a Hunter.
A naive bookworm. A clumsy girl who always tripped while reading.
Or so she claimed.
Kaizen had once speculated that the exposure of the Kurta clan's hidden sanctuary had something to do with Sheila.
Now, with the tribe annihilated, her presence here—calm, unbothered—confirmed it.
She had led the outsiders here.
She had orchestrated the massacre of the Kurta.
Kaizen smirked grimly.
Kurapika idolized Sheila.
She inspired him to become a Hunter.
If he ever learned the truth, what would his reaction be?
Compared to Sheila, the Phantom Troupe was almost incidental.
Yes, the Troupe had slain many Kurta. But they were merely one faction among several.
The true architect of this genocide—the one who guided the outsiders to the Kurta's doorstep—was the very person Kurapika had once trusted most.
The moment he learns the truth, Kurapika's mind will shatter.
While most of the mercenaries were beginning to relax, some remained tense.
Kaizen noticed it now.
There were different factions among the outsiders.
A high-ranking official from the Aiyi family of the Kakin Empire.
A formidable Nen user from the Mimbo Republic.
Members of Meteor City—aside from the Phantom Troupe.
And, of course, hired mercenaries.
Kaizen had initially overlooked them. But now, he could see the divide clearly.
Kakin. Mimbo. Meteor City. Mercenaries.
Their postures were stiff. Their eyes darted with suspicion.
They were wary—of each other.
"What are they nervous about?"
Kaizen's mind raced.
"What's their real objective?"
Then—
The ground trembled.
All around them, fragments of the battlefield began vanishing. Bit by bit, they shrank at an alarming speed.
Until they coalesced into a sphere.
A perfect, floating sphere.
It radiated a powerful aura.
Kaizen's eyes widened as he recognized it.
"Nen Spirit!"
"The lingering aura of the Kurta!"
"It's moving…"
"This is just like when Dominica took Kolossim with her."
Kaizen's thoughts clicked into place.
"This… this is what they're after."
"Their goal isn't just the Scarlet Eyes."
"They're after the Nen Spirit itself."
"A living remnant of power."
"A training ground. A source of endless potential."
"For any organization, something like this is invaluable."
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