Deep within the lush canopy of Whale Island, Ging Freecss crouched behind a screen of broad leaves, his expression uncharacteristically solemn.
He moved with a hunter's precision, carefully parting the foliage to peer at a small boy fishing by the riverbank. The boy's silhouette—especially the wild, gravity-defying hair—was a seventy-percent match for his own.
By sheer accident, Ging had selected Gon as the target for his Accompany card. If not for his god-like reflexes and instincts, he would have landed right on top of the kid. He groaned internally, making a silent, frustrated face at his son's back before retreating into the shadows.
I really don't know what to do with myself, Ging thought, a rare wave of guilt washing over him.
Years ago, his mind had been wandering, and he'd decided to drop Gon off with Mito for a "short while." But Ging lived in the moment, drifting wherever his whims took him. He loved the unknown, the thrill of a life where every second was a blank slate. By the time he'd snapped out of his trance and checked the calendar, he realized he'd left his biological son in his hometown for nearly three years.
Even a man as unconventional as Ging knew that "forgetting" your son for three years was a new low for fatherhood.
He didn't know how to face the boy, so he kept putting it off. Then, he'd blinked, and poof—another three years had vanished. On the virtual screen of his Greed Island interface, the teammate column for "Player 1: Ging Freecss" listed only two names: Mito and Gon.
Both were healthy. At least he didn't have to worry about them dying. He glanced at the digital portrait of eight-year-old Gon and felt a cold sweat prickle his brow. The last time he'd seen the boy in person, Gon was a toddler.
Better to stay hidden for now, Ging decided, pulling his hat low over his eyes and vanishing back into the woods.
Outside the Zoldyck Testing Gate, a tall figure with waist-length black hair strode up the mountain road. "Killua," a cold, melodic voice echoed. "How did you know I'd be returning today?"
Seeing Illumi, the panic in Killua's chest reached a fever pitch. His strength failed him; his arms went limp, and the massive stone slabs he had worked so hard to open slammed shut with a thunderous bang.
"Young Master Illumi," Zebro, the gatekeeper, said with a respectful bow.
Illumi didn't even glance at him. He walked straight to the closed gate and placed a single hand against the stone.
Click. Click. Click.
The high-tech sensors groaned under the weight of an impossible force. Illumi didn't just push the door; he dominated it. Six of the seven nested gates—a total of sixty-four tons—were shoved open as a single unit.
Behind the threshold, Killua watched his elder brother casually hold open sixty-four tons of rock with one hand. He took two involuntary steps back, his heart hammering against his ribs. The gap between them was still a goddamn ocean.
The heavy alloy vault door, nearly half a meter thick, stood ajar. It couldn't close because the mangled body of a security guard was wedged into the frame.
Blood pooled beneath the doorframe, staining the scattered banknotes on the floor. The bank hall was a chaotic graveyard of shattered bulletproof glass, spent casings, and corpses. Outside, the wail of police sirens drew closer, reflecting off the buildings of the urban sprawl.
Feitan stepped out of the building, his hands in his pockets, his high collar pulled up to mask his face. He ignored the sirens, disappearing into a nearby stairwell and heading for the roof.
On the rooftop, a young man with short blond hair was leaning over the edge, tapping away on his cell phone as if he were playing a mobile RPG. He was watching the firefight between the police and the stragglers below with academic interest.
"Feitan," Shalnark said, not looking up from his screen. He finally clicked the phone shut. "By the way, Omokage is dead. And that new recruit, Bambie? She's gone too."
Feitan's only reaction was a sharp, disdainful snort.
"How long was Bambie even in the Troupe?" Phinks asked, appearing suddenly behind them. He was dressed in a tracksuit, looking every bit the street thug. "First Kortopi, now Bambie. We're down again. We need a new member."
To the Phantom Troupe, a spider had twelve legs and one head. No more, no less. It was their sacred geometry.
"There's still the matter that," Feitan's muffled voice came from behind his collar.
"He's likely the killer," Shalnark said, holding up his phone. The image on the screen was a blurry, candid shot. It showed the side profile of a young man and a terrifying, eight-armed black shadow looming behind him.
"A Nen beast?" Phinks leaned in, squinting.
"Could be a clone," Feitan suggested.
"Omokage must have used his ability to take this and send it to me right before he bit it," Shalnark explained, shaking the phone. "So... are we talking revenge?"
"Don't be stupid," Phinks spat. "Why waste breath on trash that got itself killed?"
"Instead of revenge," Feitan said coldly, "we should consider recruitment."
"If he killed Omokage, he's got teeth," Phinks admitted. "But the photo is a mess. Finding him sounds like a chore. Let's skip it for now."
"Even if we find someone, Chrollo has to give the nod," Feitan reminded them. "Can any of you reach him?"
Shalnark and Phinks both shook their heads.
"The last we heard, the Boss was in Meteor City picking up Bambie," Shalnark said. "Machi or Franklin might be with him."
The three spiders stood in silence for a moment. Finally, Phinks groaned. "He's been hunting for so long with nothing to show for it. Isn't it time the Boss gave up on this 'True Martial King' treasure?"
"Speaking of which," Shalnark wondered aloud, "does that treasure even exist?"
The sea was a nightmare of vertical waves and howling wind. The handmade raft rose and fell with the swells like a piece of driftwood in a washing machine. Liam and Shizuku were white-knuckled, gripping the logs for dear life.
"Maybe the treasure was hidden in that arrow!" Liam yelled over the roar of the storm. "Maybe it's gone to the Dark Continent! That old king was a prick!"
"Is this really the time for a history lesson?!" Kurapika screamed back, his eyes bulging as he clung to the side of the boat.
Beside him, Kite was silent, focused on the rhythm of the waves. Every time the raft and boat threatened to drift apart, one of the manipulated sea beasts would snap the connecting rope taut, dragging them back together.
They had been drifting for hours, following the vague "north" of Liam's star-mark connection to his rock sparrow, only to be swallowed by this sudden squall. The sky was a bruised purple-black, and the horizon had vanished completely.
Shizuku tapped Liam's hand, a signal that she was ready.
"Doraemon! You're up!" Liam shouted.
Shizuku manifested Blinky. She didn't hesitate, pointing the vacuum's nozzle at the wall of water ahead. "Blinky, vacuum up the storm and the sea."
A localized miracle occurred. The vacuum began to swallow the turbulence, creating a hollow "pipe" of calm air and water amidst the chaos. The raft and boat surged into this narrow tunnel of stability, while the storm raged uselessly against the vacuum's artificial vacuum.
On the island, the wind howled through the ruins.
Beyond turned his gaze to the dying Ant King. After listening to Pariston's twisted logic, a dark understanding began to dawn on him.
"The Queen is the heart of the colony," Pariston said, spreading his arms as the rain soaked his suit. He wore a smile that invited violence. "Only a Queen can produce a King that meets... certain specifications." He looked at the half-beast, half-ant creature on the ground. "This one is a failure. It cannot die yet. We need a new vessel. We need a human woman with the right... potential."
Beyond sneered, his lip curling in disgust. "You sound just like that guy."
"What's the matter, Killua?"
Illumi stepped through the sixth gate, his face a perfect, porcelain mask of indifference. He looked at his younger brother—pale, shivering, and paralyzed with fear. "Aren't you going to welcome me home?"
The shadow cast by Illumi's presence seemed to darken the entire courtyard. His long hair drifted like ink in water.
"Killua... are you trying to run away? Who gave you such a selfish, willful idea?"
When the ocean finally calmed, Liam was sprawled out on the half-destroyed raft in nothing but his shorts.
Shizuku sat across from him, still holding Blinky. For the last ten minutes, the vacuum had been acting as a bilge pump, spraying out the thousands of gallons of seawater it had sucked in during the storm.
Liam felt different. The "Memento Mori" panel in his mind was humming. While they were tossing and turning in the dark, countless sea creatures had been crushed by the pressure of the storm. Because they died within a kilometer of him, their energy had been harvested automatically. Two thick, gray ribbons of mist were now spiraling around his internal silhouette.
Not my fault! Liam thought gleefully. From now on, I'm only going to dangerous places!
The more danger, the more death. And if he just happened to be "passing by" when a tragedy occurred? Well, that was just efficient business.
He suddenly frowned, rubbing his temple. "That's weird. I feel like I'm forgetting something important."
"What?" Kurapika called out from the boat. He was leaning over the gunwale, looking pale and dizzy, but otherwise intact. He hadn't heard Liam clearly over the sound of Shizuku's vacuum.
Liam waved him off, but then he sat bolt upright, his eyes snapping to the horizon.
A star-mark signal had just flared, sharp and urgent. It was coming from Lumos, the Moon Tiger. He had left the beast with specific instructions: if it found a certain person, it was to injure itself to trigger the healing pulse and alert him.
It found her.
Hunter Association Headquarters, President's Office.
Netero was balancing on one foot, his other leg extended in a perfect horizontal line. He was idly spinning a volleyball on his big toe, his eyes half-closed in meditation.
At the desk, a small, green, bean-shaped man—Netero's personal secretary—was typing away at a computer.
"How many applicants this year, Beans?" Netero asked.
"One thousand, eight hundred and eighty for the 284th Hunter Exam, sir."
On a raft in the middle of the ocean, Liam slapped his thigh so hard it echoed. "The Hunter Exam! I forgot to sign up!"
He groaned, looking at the endless blue water. "Whatever. We'll deal with it when we hit land."
He shifted his focus back to the sensory link with Lumos. Through the tiger's eyes, he saw a lush forest on the edge of a vibrant town—the "Elf Playground" on Ghost Island. And there, in the middle of a crowd, was a blonde girl who looked like a porcelain doll.
The girl was smiling sweetly as she pinned a screaming jewelry merchant to the dirt with one hand.
In the heart of a remote mountain range, Chrollo Lucilfer lowered his hand from a wall covered in ancient Divine Script.
He stared at the stone in deep thought, his brow furrowed. Behind him, Machi leaned against a tree, yawning. She had long since lost interest in the "True Martial King" and his supposed treasure.
The Boss didn't move. He just stared at the silent mountain, wondering if the treasure he sought had ever been there at all.
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