The air was thick, heavy with the scent of ozone and something ancient, something that smelled like petrified bones and damp earth. It clung to the back of Kurapika's throat, a constant, cloying reminder of where they stood. Before them, dwarfing the colossal Black Whale transport ship, was the Gate. It wasn't a structure of metal or stone, but a shimmering, almost liquid distortion in reality itself, a wound in the world that pulsed with a faint, sickly green light. This was the threshold to the Dark Continent, a place where humanity's rules were nothing more than a child's fantasy.
Kurapika stood on the observation deck, the wind whipping his blond hair across his face. His grey eyes, usually a calm storm, were fixed on the portal. The Kurta clan's scarlet was a fire banked low within him, a controlled burn that had seen him through the bloody theatre of the Succession War. He had won. Or rather, they had survived. Prince Woble, the infant fourteenth prince, was safe, and Queen Oito was by her side. His primary mission was complete. The last of his brethren's eyes had been secured from the clutches of Tserriednich, a victory that felt hollow in the face of the man's chilling depravity.
He had expected a sense of relief, of finality. Instead, a profound unease settled deep in his bones. The war was over, but the game had just changed. King Nasubi Hui Guo Rou, ever the grand schemer, had declared the expedition to the Dark Continent would proceed as planned. The "victor" of the succession, Prince Benjamin, now stood as the nominal leader of the Kakin Empire's foray into the unknown. Benjamin, with his brute strength and private army, was a predictable beast. Kurapika had learned to navigate his predictable rages. The true threats were the ones who had survived alongside them.
His gaze drifted to the figures standing nearby. Leorio, looking ridiculously out of place in his formal expedition suit, was nervously adjusting his tie, his usual boisterous energy subdued by the sheer, oppressive scale of the Gate. He caught Kurapika's eye and offered a weak, tight-lipped smile. It was meant to be reassuring, but it only amplified the tension.
Further down the deck, Hisoka stood leaning against the railing, a deck of cards shuffling idly in his long-fingered hands. The phantom jester had played his own inscrutable game during the war, appearing and disappearing like a ghost, his motives as clear as mud. He hadn't interfered with Kurapika's goals directly, but his presence was a constant, unnerving variable. He was a predator, and the Dark Continent was the ultimate hunting ground. What, or who, he was hunting now was anyone's guess.
A chill, colder than the wind, snaked down Kurapika's spine. He felt a familiar, predatory aura slither through the crowd. Illumi Zoldyck. He was here, of course, bound by his twisted contract with Hisoka. The assassin was a shadow, blending seamlessly with the other expedition members, but his Nen was a needle-sharp point of killing intent that Kurapika could never mistake. Where Illumi was, the rest of his dangerous family was never far in thought.
The ship's massive engines hummed, a low thrum that vibrated through the soles of his shoes. They were moving, inching closer to the shimmering portal. The light from the Gate intensified, casting long, distorted shadows across the deck. Whispers broke out among the crew and the Hunters who had signed on for this suicidal voyage. They spoke of the Five Great Calamities, of the horrors that had wiped out every previous expedition. Brion, the botanical weapon; Pap, the parasitic beast; Hellbell, the snake with the insatiable appetite; Ai, the gaseous life form of desire; Zobae, the disease that traded life for immortality. These were not mere monsters; they were concepts of destruction given form.
Kurapika's own Nen chains, usually a comforting weight on his arm, felt cold against his skin. His Emperor Time, the double-edged sword that had granted him the power to face the Phantom Troupe and navigate the succession war, came at a steep price. Every second spent with his eyes ablaze in scarlet stole an hour from his life. He had spent weeks, months, in that state. He could feel the cumulative toll, a deep, cellular weariness that no amount of sleep could erase. He was burning his life away, and now he was stepping into a land that devoured life itself.
"Are you ready for this?" Leorio's voice was low, cutting through his thoughts.
Kurapika didn't turn. He kept his eyes fixed on the portal, which now filled their entire view. The air crackled with energy. "No," he answered, his voice a quiet rasp. "But we don't have a choice. The association needs us. The princes are here. And Beyond Netero is already on the other side."
The name hung in the air between them. The son of the legendary former chairman was the catalyst for this entire mad venture. He had promised unimaginable rewards, the alchemical herb to cure all disease, the stones of eternal youth, the very sap of life. Promises that had lured the V5, the world's most powerful nations, into this gamble.
As the Black Whale crossed the threshold, the world dissolved. It wasn't a violent transition, but a sickening, silent slide into unreality. The sky vanished, replaced by a swirling vortex of colors that defied description. The familiar hum of the ship's engines was gone, replaced by a profound, deafening silence. Time seemed to stretch and compress, his heartbeat a frantic drum against the void.
Then, just as suddenly, it was over.
They were through. The ship floated in a vast, open sea, but the water was a strange, viscous silver. The sky was a tapestry of alien constellations, twin moons hanging like pale, watchful eyes. And on the horizon, rising from the silver sea, was the continent itself. It was a land of impossible geography. Mountains jagged like broken teeth clawed at the sky, and colossal trees, larger than any skyscraper, formed a dense, menacing jungle that seemed to breathe.
A gasp rippled through the onlookers. A wave of awe, quickly swallowed by terror.
It was then that Kurapika felt it. A Nen so immense, so overwhelmingly vast and ancient, that it made the royal guards of the Chimera Ant crisis feel like flickering candles in a hurricane. It wasn't malicious. It wasn't directed at them. It was simply... there. A fundamental part of this world, like the ground or the sky. It was the indifferent power of a god, and they were nothing but insects in its presence.
Before anyone could process the feeling, a piercing shriek echoed from the shore, a sound that tore at their sanity. It was a cry of pure, unadulterated agony. Simultaneously, every Nen user on the ship froze. A wave of suffocating pressure washed over them, forcing them to their knees.
Kurapika's eyes flashed scarlet, Emperor Time activating on pure instinct. He fought against the crushing force, his chains flaring to life around him. He pushed himself to his feet, his gaze sweeping the deck. Leorio was on the ground, struggling for breath. Hisoka was crouched low, a grim, excited smile plastered on his face. Even Illumi seemed to be struggling.
His eyes locked onto the source of the shriek. On the distant shoreline, one of the colossal trees was moving. No, not moving. It was uncoiling. A branch, thicker than the Black Whale itself, unfurled with terrifying speed, revealing a serpentine head lined with rows of crystalline teeth. It wasn't a tree. It was a creature.
And it was looking directly at them.