Auren, still with his back turned to the group, remains lost in thought. He stares at his transformed claw, unmoving, quietly feeling the immense power surging through him—his Aura clearly amplified by the gauntlets now encasing his transformed hand.
"Hunter Auren?"
"Are you alright?"
"Auren?"
"Hello?!"
"Auren!"
What?!
He blinks, snapping out of his trance.
"What's wrong, Hunter Auren? Are you alright?!" Ura's voice cuts through the haze, echoing behind him.
Auren suddenly snaps out of his thoughts. He stops focusing his Aura and slowly reverses the transformation in his hand, the monstrous claw fading back into its usual form, the gauntlet returning to its standard appearance along with it.
Taking a steady breath, then another, he turns around and forces himself to look casual.
"Sorry about that," he says smoothly. "I was just thinking. This find... it's surprising. Honestly, I didn't expect anything like it."
"I see..." Ura replies cautiously.
Auren's eyes drift to Goreinu, now sitting with his hand completely wrapped in bandages. A small pool of blood stains the floor beneath him, and Oron is kneeling beside him, cleaning up the last of the mess, along with one of his workers.
I'll heal his hand later... I feel a little guilty.
Now composed, Auren steps next to his friend and colleague. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Goreinu answers with a grin. "My fault for underestimating those damn things. Felt like I punched into a wall of sharp razor blades. The bleeding's bad, but I think my fist is cracked."
"I'll take care of it later. I know one of the best medics around," Auren replies, keeping his tone steady, as not to reveal or even hint at his Hatsu in front of strangers.
"So, can you bear the pain? I'm not quite done yet," Auren asks him.
"Yeah, it's fine. Just keep going!" Goreinu says, swinging his bandaged fist with exaggerated confidence, masking his earlier pain.
Fine then....
Auren nods and returns to the containers, crates, and boxes filled with items, spending another thirty minutes combing through the rest—but it's clear his attention is elsewhere.
This is a waste of time—my thoughts are all over the place. I'll sort through them properly when I'm home. I need to catalogue and categorize them anyway.
"I think I'm done," he finally declares.
"There's one more thing, Hunter Auren," Ura says, stepping forward. "While we focused mostly on weapons, tools, armor, and clothing, we also gathered a few other items with lingering Aura. The field agents we hired picked up anything suspicious they came across. The total cost only came to about thirty million. If that displeases you, I'll personally reimburse the full amount."
"You did fine," Auren replies immediately, perking up. "While I won't be using those myself... I have my uses for them."
I've got a few things to trade already, and more of those certainly won't hurt.
"I want all of it delivered to my airship. Right now," he commands.
"We have trucks close by. We can deliver to the airport right away," Ura confirms, with a smile.
"I'm joining you," Auren says firmly. "Let's talk further about collaboration once the items are delivered safely to my ship."
"I guess it's time to get to work then," Oron says, clapping his hands together. "Alright, guys, move it! Time to work!" he yells, signaling to the warehouse staff in the distance.
Under Auren's close, watchful eye, the workers begin loading crate after crate onto a large truck that drives into the underground bay.
But before the first truck is even filled, Oron raises his hand and calls out, "Hold it! Move that one aside." He quickly contacts another team—and a second truck is summoned to be loaded next.
"Wait," Auren says, narrowing his eyes. "This one isn't even full yet. Why are we calling in a second truck? If possible, I want everything delivered in one truck."
"Weight," Oron replies immediately. "These trucks are on the smaller side, suitable for Yorknews traffic. Also, some of the items are fragile. We can't stack crates on top of each other. Trust the pros, Mr. Hunter. We also need space for some of our people to ride in the back. They'll be armed—protecting your payload."
"I'll give you the benefit of the doubt," Auren says coolly.
Especially since I know the Ben's Knives were loaded onto this truck. I'll have Goreinu ride in the other one—just to be sure nothing happens to the rest of my items.
"There's no need to worry about security, Hunter Auren," Ura says, almost as if she's reading his thoughts. "We guarantee everything will arrive safely. Every single item will be accounted for, I'll make sure of it... personally."
She raises the stack of documents. "We'll be checking off each item as we go. I'll personally vouch for the accuracy of this list."
"I see," Auren replies, voice calm but measured. "I'm impressed. If this goes smoothly... I might have an offer for you. But if it doesn't... I'll have to take on an unplanned hunting mission."
"That won't be necessary," Ura says, her face briefly tense with embarrassment—before it hardens into something more serious.
The loading continues under the supervision of both Auren and Goreinu. Eventually, the group splits up: Auren and Ura enter one truck, while Goreinu and Oron ride in the other.
Despite Auren's concerns, the trucks move steadily through Yorknew's congested streets.
The trip takes nearly two hours, but nothing unexpected happens along the way.
Once they arrive at the airport, Auren steps out and approaches the security personnel, calmly presenting his Hunter License.
Thanks to the license, both trucks are quickly waved through the checkpoints and allowed to proceed toward his airship, which landed quite a distance from the airport's center, in a quiet part reserved for VIPs like himself.
As the trucks pull up nearby, Ura takes command, directing the workers as they begin unloading and transferring the crates.
While the men start moving the cargo, Ura carefully oversees the process. She checks every crate herself—opening each one, confirming the contents, double-checking them against the documents in her hand.
It's a slow, meticulous process. The work stretches out over two more hours, but Auren remains attentive throughout the process. The cargo hold in Auren's airship fills rapidly, Jolt, helping where he can, making sure it's evenly distributed, ensuring the airship's ability to fly without problem.
Finally, the last of the crates are moved. The warehouse workers look drained, a mix of boredom and irritation on their faces from Ura's relentless quality control.
"Excuse me... boss..." one of them says, approaching Oron awkwardly. "We've still got these."
He lifts a pair of boots.
Auren immediately recognizes them—they're his own, left behind earlier.
Looking mildly annoyed, he walks over, snatches them from the man, and tosses them onto a crate.
Can't leave personal items lying around. Just to be safe... you never know if someone's using a Nen ability that needs a personal item. Chances are low—but I'm not taking any risks.
"Thanks," Auren mutters, pulling out a couple of 10,000 Jenny bills and handing them to the man, who blinks in surprise before grinning and accepting the tip with a greedy nod.
"Why are you still wearing those things, anyway?" Goreinu asks, eyeing Auren's shoes, gauntlets, and bracers. "Why not take them off?"
"Huh?" Auren asks, not comprehending what he is saying. "Take them off? I'll keep them on... someone else can take them off—after I die."
Why the hell would I ever take them off? I can take them off when I shower and sleep, but besides that. They almost feel like they are part of my body. I will never take them off—they almost feel as natural as Eternity.
Goreinu looks baffled, but just shrugs. "I guess it's your decision. If they don't bother you...."
"I can understand," Ura says quietly, her gaze lingering on Auren's new equipment.
"Follow me inside the airship," Auren says. "You can send your men away."
Ura and Oron nod and quickly dismiss the workers, who quickly drive away before joining him aboard.
As Auren leads them through the ship, they briefly pass by Jolt, who is already back inside, sitting next to his wife, Marsha.
"Marsha," Auren says, pausing just a moment, "Could you bring a couple of drinks to the small meeting room close by? Water, tea—whatever we've got. I'll be using it for a while."
"Of course," she says with a polite smile.
Auren, along with Goreinu, leads his guests into a small room aboard the airship. The space is modest—just a simple table with a few chairs—and it's one he's never really used before.
"Nice ship," Oron says, looking around. "I guess you are quite rich... I can understand that you invest in a nice airship. If I had your money, I would buy myself a nice one too!"
"Indeed," Auren replies. "An Airship is vital for a hunter..."
They continue their small talk for a little while longer.
It only takes a few minutes before Marsha arrives, aided by her husband. Together, they bring in several bottles of water, a couple of sodas—some of Auren's personal favorites—and four cups of freshly brewed tea.
They both swiftly excuse themselves, leaving Auren alone with Goreinu, Ura, and Oron.
"Let's begin then," Auren says.
Time to rope them in... I need to make my position more than clear... Carrot and stick.
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