One minute earlier.
Atop a building overlooking the fountain square.
Silva stood at the edge of the rooftop, his long hair fluttering in the wind.
He took out his phone, glanced at the message, paused briefly, then put it away. His wolf-like eyes fixed on several figures in the square below.
As night fell, the towering fountain at the center of the plaza shimmered with multicolored lights.
The dancing light show, synchronized with the flowing water, drew the attention of most passersby.
Smiling, they gravitated toward the fountain, even children laughing and running toward it.
Meanwhile, the Phantom Troupe members, led by Chrollo, avoided the crowd drawn to the spectacle.
Stepping over the dazzling light effects flickering on the ground, they moved through the elongated shadows, passing the fountain from the opposite side and heading toward the edge of the square.
On the rooftop.
Silva's gaze followed Chrollo and the others, slowly locking onto one of them.
The Phantom Troupe's No. 8 member.
Silva stared at the man, his aura surging like a torrent. He raised his right hand, the undulating aura around it instantly sharpening into a jagged form.
This stalactite-like sharpening of aura was a phenomenon of a Nen user concentrating their attack power into a single point, a hallmark of an Emitter-type ability user before striking.
Yet, as Silva gathered his aura for the attack, not even a trace of killing intent leaked from it.
His aura was like a raging river, yet utterly silent.
This was clearly the result of years of refinement.
Then, he struck.
Leaping from the rooftop, the sharpened aura around his palm transformed midair into an electrified Nen sphere over a meter in diameter.
Like a meteor tearing through the night, he descended with pinpoint accuracy onto the Phantom Troupe's No. 8 member.
Before this trajectory of terrifying destructive force landed, Chrollo, Pakunoda, Kortopi, Shalnark, Machi, Omokage, and Lucius, the No. 8 member directly in its path, all sensed the fleeting danger.
That sense of crisis was like a sudden electric pulse in their minds.
Its horror lay in the fact that…
Even if you "saw" it, your body couldn't react in time.
A deafening explosion echoed across the city.
A crater formed in the stone-paved square, spiderweb cracks radiating outward for dozens of meters.
Inside the crater, Lucius lay dead, his back grotesquely twisted and caved in.
Silva stood beside the corpse, calmly pulling out his phone.
The other Phantom Troupe members had retreated to the cracked ground, their eyes burning with killing intent as they glared at Silva for his sudden assassination of Lucius.
His method of ambush…
Speed and power aside, the truly terrifying aspect was the utter silence of his attack.
Chrollo's gaze was icy, devoid of any other emotion.
The other members, however, shifted from shock to murderous intent, their hearts still gripped by lingering fear.
They knew full well. If Silva had targeted any one of them, their fate would have been no different from Lucius's. It wasn't that Silva's strength seemed invincible; this impression stemmed more from his unpredictable assassination skills that left no room for defense.
Under the deathly stares from Chrollo and the others, Silva remained unfazed. With a flick of his toe, he flipped the corpse over, then took out his phone and snapped a photo of the dead man's face.
He had deliberately avoided striking the head during the kill to preserve facial integrity.
Truthfully, with the reputation the Zoldyck family elders had built, such meticulousness wasn't necessary.
But decades in the profession had ingrained certain habits in Silva, habits born from professionalism.
After sending the corpse photo to the client, Silva dialed a dedicated contact number.
The call connected in a second.
"The job is done. Transfer the payment to the designated account."
With that, Silva hung up and pocketed his phone, exuding effortless composure.
However, his actions also unmistakably revealed his identity as an assassin to Chrollo and his group.
Chrollo's gaze remained sharp and cold, fixed unwaveringly on Silva.
"You killed one of my members. Now, you have two choices."
His voice was icy. Even with a comrade dead before his eyes, his tone betrayed no anger or sorrow, only calm.
Silva ignored Chrollo's words and stepped out of the crater on his own.
His movement instantly ratcheted up the tension in the air.
Machi and the other members, watching Silva walk to the opposite side of the crater, unleashed their killing intent without restraint.
At that moment, the stunned bystanders in the square seemed to snap back into motion, screaming and fleeing in panic.
In an instant, the square descended into chaos; shrieks and children's wails filled the air.
Only the fountain's light show remained unaffected, its dazzling display continuing uninterrupted.
Chrollo didn't stop his members from venting their emotions, his eyes still locked onto Silva across the crater.
In any situation, the Spider's rules came first; this was the foundation of their existence.
So regardless of strength, the moment Silva killed Lucius, the rule of succession immediately took effect.
Chrollo removed his disguise, hat and sunglasses, and tossed them aside. Then, in that same eerily calm voice, he continued:
"One, accept recruitment and join my group. Two, refuse and die here."
At Chrollo's words, Silva abruptly halted. He glanced back at Chrollo, who had already assumed a combat stance.
From the undulating aura radiating off Chrollo, Silva sensed an unshakable resolve.
Impressive aura. This young man... isn't ordinary.
Silva silently appraised him before turning away again, ignoring the proposal entirely as he walked off without a word.
Seeing Silva persistently disregard Chrollo, Machi and the others suddenly unleashed their maximum aura output, baring their fangs.
But it was Chrollo who struck first.
Silva's dismissive response was tantamount to refusal.
Whoosh!
Chrollo vanished in a flash.
On the other side of the crater, Silva, his back still turned to the Spiders, slightly raised his gaze. The moment his foot touched the ground, he too disappeared.
The next instant...
A dull thud of fist meeting elbow echoed across the battlefield. At the source of the sound, two figures materialized out of thin air, Chrollo and Silva.
Boom! Boom! Boom...!
The two engaged in a fierce exchange, their fists and feet colliding with such force that ripples of aura erupted with each impact.
In just a single second, they clashed over a dozen times using pure martial arts and Nen Techniques before abruptly separating.
As Chrollo retreated, his feet scraped against the ground, kicking up white smoke. A bloody gash appeared on his arm, but he didn't even glance at it, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on Silva.
Silva, too, stepped back to steady himself, but his stance remained as immovable as a mountain. His eyes locked onto the young man before him, who appeared to be around the same age as Illumi.
—--
On the streets.
The crowd fled from the square in panic, their faces twisted with fear.
Yet Hisoka moved against the tide, his eyes narrowed as he stared in the direction of the square.
In the distance.
Morrow also walked against the fleeing crowd, but his attention was drawn to the nearby high ground.