Just ahead, where the road stretched into the wilderness, a group of four figures were making their way toward an abandoned building.
Among them were two particularly distinct individuals. One had a scruffy ponytail, a weathered face that gave off the impression of a wandering swordsman, and a long katana strapped to his waist.
The other was tall and built like a fortress, but what stood out the most were his unusually long, drooping earlobes, stitched together as if they had been surgically altered. There was no mistaking them, Nobunaga and Franklin of the Phantom Troupe.
After stepping off their airship, the four Spiders traveled on foot toward the gathering point. "It's been a while since we've all been together, huh?" Nobunaga muttered, scratching his chest.
"Three years and two months," Feitan replied in a flat, disinterested tone. "And this time, we've got two new recruits." His voice was muffled by the scarf covering the lower half of his face, but the way he spoke left no room for conversation.
Even Machi, whose instincts were usually razor-sharp, had failed to notice something odd, The real Feitan wasn't here. What stood before them was a shapeshifter, a near-perfect copy that not even Machi's intuition could detect.
"By the way, Hisoka's Bungee Gum is actually pretty impressive," Nobunaga commented, his voice carrying an unusual seriousness. It wasn't often that he openly acknowledged another fighter's strength.
"You're overestimating him," Franklin said flatly, unimpressed. "He's strong, but not that strong."
Nobunaga shrugged, but there was a dangerous glint in his eyes. His hand casually rested near the hilt of his katana, his grip firm but relaxed.
For a moment, the air between them grew thick with tension. The casual conversation had ended. It was the calm before the storm.
Larry raised an eyebrow but said nothing, quietly moving forward. The tension in the air thickened as, in the next instant, Nobunaga's sheathed sword clashed against Franklin's forearm, producing a deep, echoing collision.
A gust of wind erupted from the impact, kicking up dust that spread outward from beneath their feet. To an outsider, it might have seemed like a serious fight was about to break out, but everyone present knew better, it was just a warm-up.
Nobunaga hadn't even unsheathed his blade, merely striking with the scabbard, while Franklin didn't bother retaliating with his aura. He simply took the blow with his arm, unfazed.
Far from the scene, Larry still witnessed everything through Ditto's ability, allowing him to observe events as if he were there in person. He stood by the window, his gaze falling on the bleak, desolate cityscape outside.
A faint smirk tugged at his lips as he processed the information Ditto had transmitted. 'Enjoy it while you can, Spiders.'
It wasn't as if they were all going to die here in Yorknew. But according to Larry's predictions, most of them wouldn't be walking away from this. At the very least, the experience of fighting such powerful opponents would be worth the effort.
***
As the night deepened, Kurapika and his group checked into their previous hotel, keeping a low profile. Meanwhile, the Phantom Troupe regrouped at an abandoned building, their designated meeting point.
"Damn it! It's almost the next day, and Hisoka's still not here!" Uvogin slammed his fists together with a loud crack, his impatience evident.
He was a hulking man with unkempt hair, a leather apron slung over his broad frame, and a face that resembled a wild beast. His straightforward nature and raw physical power placed him firmly among the Enhancer types, much like the Berserkers from certain legends.
Just as his frustration peaked, a sudden gust of wind flickered through the room, extinguishing the candle next to Chrollo.
A slow, almost playful voice drifted from the shadows. "Oh my, it seems I arrived just in time to hear something… interesting~" Half of Hisoka's body emerged from the darkness, his lips curling into a sly, unsettling smile.
"Captain, we're all here," Shalnark called out, his youthful face still holding traces of amusement.
Chrollo stepped forward, the moonlight filtering through the broken windows and casting a soft glow over the gathering. The eerie illumination only accentuated his presence, the cross tattoo in the center of his forehead, the long black coat, and the ever-present book in his hand.
Hisoka's golden eyes reflected Chrollo's figure, and for a brief moment, his lips parted slightly, as if savoring the sight. An almost imperceptible aura leaked from him, but he quickly reeled it back in.
Feitan shot him a glance, but as usual, said nothing.
"Captain, give the order already!" Uvogin growled, cracking his knuckles. "What's the target this time?"
Chrollo's voice remained calm. "The underground auction treasures."
The members immediately started throwing out guesses.
"A book? The leader does like collecting books."
"No, it's gotta be a game. There are tons of rare ones up for auction."
"Usually, the big-ticket items are gold, jewelry, or some ancient artifacts."
Chrollo listened silently, a faint smirk playing at his lips. None of them had guessed correctly. Only Uvogin seemed to suspect the truth, his brows furrowing slightly as he looked at their leader.
Finally, Chrollo spoke, his voice carrying a subtle finality. "We take everything."
A moment of silence passed. Then, realization dawned, followed by grins of anticipation. They weren't thieves who picked and chose their loot. They were the Phantom Troupe. If they were going to steal, they would steal everything.
"In my name…" Chrollo continued, his voice barely above a whisper but carrying the weight of death itself. "Kill anyone who gets in our way."
Excitement crackled through the room like an unspoken battle cry. The Troupe members were eager, ready to unleash havoc on Yorknew.
Feitan, standing in the shadows, adjusted his mask and smirked. 'We'll see who dies first.'
Yorknew City Located on the western side of the Urubian continent, Yorknew was a city built on corruption.
On the surface, it gleamed like a beacon of wealth and progress, but beneath its polished exterior lurked a cesspool of crime. Every aspect of life here, from business to politics, was under the control of various gangs.
Togashi had loosely modeled this city after real-world locations, with Yorknew corresponding closely to New York City. Like its real-world counterpart, it was a haven for the rich and a playground for criminals. If you had money, there was nothing you couldn't buy in Yorknew.
The underground auction was the crown jewel of this lawless metropolis. Its catalog alone was thick enough to be considered a book, listing rare and priceless items that couldn't be found anywhere else. The entrance fee alone was a staggering 12 million Jenny, an amount that ensured only the wealthiest could participate.
The stakes were high, and security was tight. But none of that mattered to the Phantom Troupe. They had already seen the future. Thanks to Neon's prophecy, they knew what was coming.
The security around the auction was at an all-time high.
Especially in the city center where the event was being held, armed gangsters patrolled the streets and alleys, their presence a constant reminder of the tension in the air. Despite their precautions, the entire day passed uneventfully. No attacks, no disturbances, almost as if they had been worrying over nothing. But in reality, the real danger was only just beginning.
As night fell, a thin veil of darkness covered the sky, with only the pale moon casting a faint glow over the city. However, down below, Yorknew City was alive with neon lights, a dazzling spectacle of wealth and vice.