Rocky's mind was filled with conflicted thoughts. If he had never had any contact with the Kuruta tribe, or if they had never shown him care, he wouldn't have hesitated to leave them to their fate. But now things were different. Since arriving, the tribe had treated him with sincerity. Although their treatment had not always been warm, it was genuine, especially from the chief, who had taken him in like a grandfather. Rocky knew he could not just walk away and abandon them.
The Phantom Troupe. Rocky had heard rumors and tales, but now that he knew they were coming for the tribe, his golden finger seemed insufficient. His abilities were growing, but even with that, it was arrogant to think he could face them after only a few months of training. As much as he wanted to protect the Kuruta tribe, he doubted his ability to save them all. He was strong enough to protect himself, but he couldn't be the savior of the entire tribe. And yet, leaving them to their fate felt impossible.
A bitter smile crossed his face. "I'm afraid I'm not enough."
There was only one thing to do now: do what he could.
---
The next morning, the chief prepared a grand meal, his mood as bright as ever. The Kuruta tribe was small but filled with potential, and the future seemed hopeful, especially with Rocky's growing abilities. But as they sat down to eat, the chief noticed something was off with Rocky's demeanor.
"What's wrong? Little Rocky, are you sick?" he asked with concern.
Rocky shook his head. "No, I'm fine. I just had a dream..."
"A dream?" The chief frowned. "What kind of dream made you look like this? Was it a nightmare?"
Rocky nodded slightly. "Yes, it was a nightmare, but it felt so real. It wasn't like any ordinary dream."
The chief's eyes narrowed. He was a Nen user, and illness was rare for Nen practitioners. "What happened in your dream?"
"I dreamt... of our tribe being exterminated."
The chief froze, his eyes sharpening as he took in the gravity of the words. He had heard of bad dreams before, but for a child to speak so seriously about such a thing meant something more. He softened his gaze but kept his attention fixed on Rocky.
"It's just a nightmare, don't worry about it," the chief said, his voice calm but filled with concern.
"No," Rocky insisted. "I'm telling you, Grandpa Chief, it felt real. It was like I was there, experiencing it myself."
The chief's gaze intensified. He could see that Rocky wasn't joking. His instincts told him that there was something more to this.
"Tell me what you saw in the dream."
Rocky took a deep breath, his voice steady. "I saw spiders. Not real spiders, but people with spider tattoos on them. Each person had a number, and the one with the number 11 tattooed on him was... powerful. He shattered our house with one punch."
The chief's brow furrowed. "Spiders?"
He had heard rumors of a dangerous group known as the Phantom Troupe, but he had never thought it would be so relevant to his tribe. He knew that the Troupe had tattoos of spiders, each marked with a number. The dream Rocky described, with its vivid details, was too accurate to ignore. It couldn't be just a coincidence.
He studied Rocky's face carefully, considering the possibility. "You're saying this group, the Phantom Troupe, could be the ones who attack our tribe?"
Rocky nodded, his expression serious. "Yes, that's who I saw. The one with the number 11, he was the most powerful, but others came too. The village tried to fight back, but it was useless."
The chief sat in silence, deep in thought. He knew the Phantom Troupe was a formidable group, and Rocky's description sounded all too familiar. The child couldn't have known about the Troupe unless something deeper was at play. Maybe it wasn't just a dream. Perhaps it was a warning.
"That's... that's a serious thing you've said," the chief finally muttered. "I've heard of them before, but it's impossible for you to know this unless…"
"Unless I felt it," Rocky finished for him. "My Nen senses are heightened. This isn't just a dream. I know danger is coming. And if we don't prepare, we'll be caught off guard."
The chief's expression softened, but a shadow of worry lingered in his eyes. If Rocky was right, their time was running out. There was no way to predict exactly when the Troupe would strike, but the chief could no longer ignore the possibility.
"I'll consider what you've said. But we still have time," the chief said, though his tone was less sure now. "We'll reinforce the barrier and make preparations. Hopefully, we'll have time to relocate the tribe before anything happens."
Rocky nodded, but his mind was already working ahead. The Kuruta tribe needed more than just a warning. They needed to act fast. But his own power was still growing. He wasn't ready to take on the Phantom Troupe yet, not by himself. And if he couldn't save everyone, he had to make sure some of them survived.
But what if it wasn't enough? What if the Phantom Troupe struck too soon?
---
Later that day, the chief continued with his plans, trying to reassure the tribe that they had time. But Rocky couldn't shake the feeling of urgency. The chief's efforts might delay the inevitable, but the best chance the Kuruta tribe had was if they could evacuate, and that meant convincing the chief and the tribe members to leave before it was too late.
Time was the enemy now.
---
Rocky's thoughts were interrupted when the chief came to him later that evening, urging him to rest. But Rocky was restless. He couldn't afford to lose any more time.
As he lay in bed that night, he thought back to the conversation with the chief and the nightmare that had felt too real. He had warned them, but would they heed it in time? The only thing he could do now was strengthen himself—physically, mentally, and emotionally.
The Phantom Troupe was coming, and he had to be ready. It wasn't just about saving the tribe; it was about ensuring his survival, the survival of his friends, and the survival of everyone who mattered. There was no room for failure.
The only way forward was to train harder, faster, and smarter.