"This guy's got real talent in combat," someone muttered.
"And he doesn't even use aura—he still managed to pull off that contract, and it scared the prison officials stiff."
"The guy's a killer, no doubt."
"His assassination skills are sharp."
"And cold-blooded."
"If someone like him made it to Heavens Arena, took the rookie challenge… he'd become a serious contender. Probably outclass Isaiah with ease."
"Maybe even reach the level of a Phantom Troupe member."
"Because, like Hisoka... he's a lunatic."
Hisoka was deranged, and Cole? Just as bad.
But there was a slight difference.
Their brand of madness wasn't exactly the same.
"Well, it doesn't matter now. He's dead."
Kaizen pulled out a folded map, slashed a red dot with his pen, and drew an X over it.
His eyes flicked to another city on the map.
"Looks like these death row inmates are somehow connected," he muttered under his breath.
"From what Cole said earlier, they're playing some kind of game."
"But they don't seem to get along."
"Out of the five inmates, one of them probably knows how to use aura," Kaizen mused. "But it's definitely not Cole."
His eyes sharpened, glinting with determination.
"Either way, I need to track down the next target."
In pursuit of speed, Kaizen flagged down a car. Airships had fixed schedules, and the next prisoner—Fransky—was holed up in a nearby city. A car would be faster.
"Kid, are you alone?"
The driver shot Kaizen a look through the rearview mirror.
Kaizen nodded.
"Someone's waiting for me at the destination. Drive faster."
The driver grinned. "Got it. Sit tight."
Kaizen closed his eyes and felt the subtle rocking of the car as it sped along the road. But beneath that rhythm, a slight unease gnawed at him.
There was a trace of malice in the air.
Kaizen could sense it, faint but distinct. His intuition had picked up on it.
He'd encountered hostility before, but those people wore their malice openly. He never needed to rely on instincts alone to detect it. This time, though, the intent was carefully veiled.
"It's kind of like Gon's intuition," Kaizen thought to himself.
Gon always had a knack for sensing when something was off—something that wasn't aura-related, but instinctive. It wasn't a learned skill but a rare talent. Not every strong fighter had it. Most relied on experience instead.
But those with natural intuition... they usually became very powerful.
"Did this driver decide to rob me?" Kaizen wondered. "Or... kill me?"
His eyes glimmered under his lids, but he didn't stir.
The car rumbled along the road for two hours. As the vehicle slowed, Kaizen's breathing evened out, as if he'd drifted off to sleep.
The driver cast a glance in the rearview mirror, confirming Kaizen's stillness. Satisfied, he eased the car to a gradual stop.
Quietly, he slipped out and made a phone call.
"Got a new one," the driver whispered. "He's in good condition. What do you think? He'll fetch a nice price with the nobles."
Kaizen's lips curled slightly in his pretend slumber.
"Human traffickers," he thought.
Before long, the driver's accomplices arrived—a group of shadowy figures clustered around the car, eager for their new 'product.' One of them yanked the door open...
And found nothing inside.
"Where is he?"
The driver's face twisted in confusion. "What the—?"
The accomplices glared at him, their patience wearing thin.
"You playing games with us?" one of them sneered.
"This is a joke to you?" growled another. "You wanna die?"
They lunged at the driver, fists flying.
From his perch on a nearby rooftop, Kaizen watched impassively as the traffickers beat the man senseless.
"Even if he survives," Kaizen mused, "he'll be paralyzed. And with nothing but wilderness around... some stray dogs will probably finish the job."
Without a sound, Kaizen vanished from the rooftop, reappearing within the next city.
Compared to the bustling Heavens Arena, this place was smaller, quieter, and far less vibrant. The night was creeping in, and only a handful of lights still flickered on the streets.
A soft ding broke the silence—Kaizen's phone buzzed with a message from Milluki.
New intel.
Fransky was supposed to be lying low in a hotel. Now, the report indicated he'd shifted locations and was posing as a boxer in a gym.
Kaizen activated his aura, sharpening his focus as he approached the gym.
It didn't take long to spot his target—a young man with short blond hair and a muscular frame.
A faint aura clung to Fransky, confirming his status.
"Looks like he knows Nen," Kaizen whispered, eyes narrowing.
Just then, Fransky's phone rang. His brow furrowed as he answered, his gaze shifting warily around the gym.
He moved quickly but calmly, gathering his belongings and slipping out the back door.
"So... he knows his location's compromised."
Kaizen smirked. "Too bad I'm already here."
He could tell Fransky wasn't an advanced fighter—an E-rank user at best. Someone like him didn't pose a real threat, not unless he had some hidden technique up his sleeve.
Fransky climbed into a waiting car.
"Drive! Now!" he barked at the driver.
But before the car could pull away—
BOOM!
The sound of an explosion shattered the night.
Fransky's eyes widened in shock as the vehicle burst into flames, sending debris flying in all directions.
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