Feitan stared at the epicenter, waiting for the smoke to clear. He expected to see ash. He expected to see a charred skeleton.
Instead, he saw a nightmare he would never forget.
Ryker wasn't ash. He wasn't even burned.
He stood in the center of the molten crater, wreathed in flames. The fire clung to his skin, dancing along his hair, harmlessly illuminating his perfectly unmarred physique. The only casualty of the attack was Ryker's shirt, which had burned away to reveal the dense, chiseled muscles beneath.
The flames slowly died down, but a single sphere of fire remained, hovering casually above Ryker's open palm.
He... he controls fire too?!
Feitan stumbled backward, his mind completely short-circuiting.
Impossible. This was my strongest attack. Even with my armor, the ambient heat burns me. How is he standing there without a scratch? Did he tank the temperature with just his bare skin?
Feitan couldn't comprehend it. It was like waking up inside a nightmare only to find you were still dreaming. The cracked, glowing earth and the blistering heat radiating off his own armor were the only proof that he hadn't hallucinated the attack.
"Heh... Not bad," Ryker smiled calmly. "A very impressive technique, as expected of the Phantom Troupe. But for me? The temperature was a bit lacking. It felt like a nice hot spring. If this is the limit of your power, then we're about done here."
[Trait: Fire Nen (Purple)]
Ryker had acquired this in Meteor City. While only a Purple trait, it was backed by his monstrous base stats and his absolute mastery of Lightning Nen (Red). Pure Conjuration/Transmutation attacks like Feitan's simply didn't possess the sheer numerical output to break through his defenses.
The only way to truly hurt Ryker was in close-quarters combat. And unfortunately for the Spiders, Ryker was a hexagram warrior—a master of all ranges with zero blind spots.
"Sigh. I actually wanted to play Uvogin's last words for all of you," Ryker pulled his phone out—perfectly protected by a layer of Nen. "But you guys ran away without saying hello. How rude."
He tapped the screen.
Uvogin's voice echoed across the blasted wasteland, roaring in anger and despair.
Hearing that voice, Feitan felt his blood boil. The sheer, raw fury of his dead comrade ignited a blazing hatred in his chest. A profound sense of loss, a chilling realization that the Spider was truly bleeding, washed over him.
Feitan vanished.
CLANG!
He reappeared directly in front of Ryker, his umbrella sword thrusting with desperate, suicidal speed. Fueled by hatred, he was faster than ever. But in trading defense for pure speed, he left himself open.
Schwing.
Ryker's fish knife flashed.
Feitan's elbow joint was cleanly severed.
It was a surgical cut. After spending a decade filleting fish on Whale Island, Ryker possessed an intimate, almost anatomical understanding of joints and bones. With minimal effort, he disabled Feitan's dominant arm.
It was brutal, but Ryker felt no pity for the man in front of him. Feitan was a torturer. He had slaughtered countless innocents—people with families, dreams, and lives—without blinking an eye. Did the Troupe ever consider the despair of their victims?
No. So I won't consider theirs.
Ryker had come alone today to ensure Kurapika didn't have to witness the sheer horror of what he was about to do to the Troupe. He was taking out the trash.
Clack.
Suddenly, Feitan's umbrella sword snapped open. A hidden grappling hook shot out, wrapping tightly around a massive boulder behind Ryker, pulling the wire taut across Ryker's body like a python.
"Oh? Trying to bind me?" Ryker asked, mildly amused. He flexed his muscles, and the steel cable immediately began to groan and warp under his Double Red Enhancement and Double Gold Strength.
But binding Ryker wasn't Feitan's plan.
Using the wire as a pulley, Feitan launched himself forward, ignoring his severed arm. He crashed directly into Ryker, wrapping his remaining arm and legs around Ryker in a death grip.
Feitan's eyes were wide, bloodshot, and completely insane.
"You are strong... but you're coming to hell with me!"
VMMMM.
Blinding, incandescent light poured out of Feitan's eyes, mouth, and ears. His entire body turned into a miniature nuclear reactor, expanding rapidly as it prepared to detonate from the inside out.
"A suicide bomb?" Ryker sneered. "Didn't you know I invented that trick?"
Zap.
Ryker vanished.
In his place, tucked neatly into Feitan's desperate embrace, was a tiny, crackling spider made of blue lightning.
[Lightning Beast: Substitution]
"You... bastard..."
Feitan stared at the little lightning spider as it chirped at him.
In that final millisecond, his life flashed before his eyes.
He saw the dingy taverns where he drank with Phinks.
He saw the mountains of corpses they had left behind.
He saw the blood-soaked streets of Meteor City.
He saw the mafia bosses who had tortured his family, and the exquisite pleasure he felt when he returned the favor.
He had climbed from the absolute bottom of the world to become a god of death. And now, it was over.
BOOM!
A catastrophic explosion, three times the size of the previous Rising Sun, annihilated the area.
Miles away, the fleeing Troupe members stopped and stared in horror.
A pillar of fire erupted into the sky, vaporizing clouds and turning night into day. The shockwave knocked trees flat and shattered the earth for miles. It was like a meteor had struck Yorknew.
The Spiders went dead silent.
They recognized that aura. They recognized the terrifying, final spike of energy before it completely vanished.
"Feitan..." Phinks fell to his knees, punching the dirt until his knuckles bled.
Feitan had sacrificed himself. He had detonated his own life force to take the monster down.
"He's gone," Machi whispered, her voice trembling.
Franklin, Shizuku, and Kortopi stood in stunned, grief-stricken silence. The invincible Phantom Troupe was being systematically erased.
Did he kill the kid? they wondered. He must have. Nothing could survive that.
But no one dared to go back and check.
The Edge of the Crater.
Ryker stood casually on a cliff overlooking the massive, glowing crater.
"Not bad," Ryker whistled.
He could have survived the blast point-blank, but he didn't feel like getting his pants singed again. Why tank a suicide bomb when you can just teleport away? It was a shame the blast vaporized Feitan's head, though. He had just lost out on a multi-billion Jenny bounty.
[DING! You killed Phantom Troupe Member: Feitan Portor.]
[DING! Random Plunder Initiated... Success!]
[Acquired: {Conjuration Talent} (Gold), {Unforgivable Sinner} (Gold), {Torture/Interrogation} (Gold).]
[DING! {Lucky Star} (Gold) Activated! Forced Drop...]
[Acquired: {Pain Packer: Rising Sun} (Double Gold).]
A symphony of notifications played as a massive influx of data and energy flooded Ryker's system.
[Trait: Unforgivable Sinner (Gold)]
[Effect: Conjure a unique suit of armor that significantly boosts defense and provides specialized offensive tools based on the user's affinity.]
[Trait: Torture/Interrogation (Gold)]
[Effect: Grants absolute anatomical knowledge of the human body and the psychological limits of pain.]
[Trait: Pain Packer: Rising Sun (Double Gold)]
[Effect: Born from staring into the sun until near-blindness in the darkest depths of Meteor City. Converts aura and pain into a miniature, localized star.]
Along with the traits came flashes of Feitan's memories.
Ryker saw a young boy sold into slavery for a loaf of bread. He saw the boy tortured in a pitch-black cell, forced to eat the flesh of those who died beside him. He saw the boy awaken his Nen in absolute despair, slaughtering his captors and drowning his city in blood.
He saw the boy stare into the actual sun, seeking light in a world of darkness, until he mastered the heat.
If there is no light, I will become the Sun.
Then, Chrollo arrived, defeated him, and gave him a family. And for that family, Feitan became a demon, inflicting the pain of his childhood onto thousands of innocent people.
"Tsk, tsk," Ryker shook his head. "A tragic backstory. But projecting your trauma onto innocents? That's just pathetic."
Ryker waved a hand, dismissing the memories. He only kept the combat experience.
"Rest in pieces, Feitan. Your pain is my gain. I'll put your abilities to much better use."
Ryker smiled, looking out into the darkness where the remaining Spiders had fled.
Three down.
He turned and walked away into the night.
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