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Third-Person POV
The hideout buzzed with quiet activity as the Phantom Troupe members went about their business. Zephyr sat cross-legged in a corner, carefully weaving Nen threads between his fingers. The delicate craft calmed him, a meditative practice he'd perfected over the years. But his tranquility was short-lived.
"New guy," a sharp voice called out.
Zephyr looked up to see Machi Komacine standing over him, her cold eyes appraising. She twirled a strand of her own Nen threads between her fingers, a subtle challenge in her posture.
"Show me what you can do," she demanded.
Zephyr raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a faint smirk. "You think I'm here to entertain you?"
Machi's gaze hardened. "No. I think you're here to prove you're worth keeping around."
Switch to Zephyr's POV
I stood, brushing the dust from my coat. Machi's threads were famous in Meteor City—precise, unbreakable, deadly. I'd admired her work from afar, but admiration wouldn't win this duel.
"Fine," I said, stretching my fingers. "But don't cry when you lose."
Machi didn't dignify my taunt with a response. Her threads snapped into existence, thin, shimmering lines stretching out like a spider's web.
Third-Person POV
The rest of the Troupe began to gather, curious about the confrontation. Feitan leaned against a wall, his expression unreadable, while Shalnark watched with an amused grin.
Zephyr moved first, flicking his fingers to send a web of threads toward Machi. She countered effortlessly, her own threads slicing through his like a hot knife through butter.
"Is that all?" Machi asked, her voice dripping with disdain.
Zephyr didn't respond. Instead, he stepped back, his fingers moving in intricate patterns. His threads re-formed, weaving together into a dense shield that blocked Machi's next attack.
"Interesting," Shalnark murmured. "He's not bad."
Switch to Machi's POV
He was quick, I'll give him that. But speed wasn't enough. My threads were stronger, sharper. I sent another volley his way, aiming for his legs.
To my surprise, he didn't dodge. Instead, he manipulated his threads into a makeshift whip, deflecting my attack mid-air.
"Clever," I muttered.
Switch to Third-Person POV
The battle escalated, threads flashing like lightning between the two Manipulators. Zephyr used his threads to maneuver around Machi's strikes, creating traps and diversions. Machi, in turn, dismantled his defenses with surgical precision, her movements calculated and ruthless.
Finally, Machi managed to corner Zephyr, her threads closing in like a noose. But just as she moved to deliver the final blow, her own Nen threads froze mid-air.
"What—?" she started, but then she saw it. Zephyr had subtly attached his threads to hers during the fight, manipulating them just enough to disrupt her control.
Zephyr smirked, stepping back. "Checkmate."
Chrollo's POV
From my perch above the arena, I observed the match with interest. Zephyr's ability to adapt was impressive. Even against Machi, one of our most skilled members, he'd held his ground.
"He's got potential," I said aloud.
Phinks, standing beside me, scoffed. "Potential doesn't mean loyalty."
"That's true," I agreed. "But loyalty can be forged."
Back to Third-Person POV
Machi retracted her threads, her expression unreadable. "Not bad," she said, turning to walk away.
Zephyr raised an eyebrow. "Is that your way of saying you're impressed?"
She paused, glancing back over her shoulder. "Don't get cocky. You're still a long way from earning my trust."
As the crowd dispersed, Shalnark approached Zephyr, clapping him on the back. "You know, I think you'll fit in just fine," he said with a grin.
Zephyr didn't respond, his mind already turning over the implications of the fight. He wasn't here to make friends, but he knew one thing for certain: trust in the Phantom Troupe was earned through blood and battle, and he was just getting started.
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