"Amazing... so powerful..."
"Just a flick of his finger..."
"Captain..."
The bodyguards stood in stunned silence. Kurapika, despite knowing Ryker longer than anyone, was the most shocked. He had seen Ryker fight before, but this? This was magic. Literal magic.
Brother Ryker has evolved again, Kurapika thought, awe mixing with a sliver of dread. He keeps climbing higher, leaving the rest of us on the ground.
"Captain!" Dalzollene stepped forward, his face flushed with excitement. "With you leading us, this mission is foolproof!"
Gone was the resentment of being demoted. Dalzollene had done the math. Ryker was a walking natural disaster. If an enemy attacked, Ryker would vaporize them. Being Vice-Captain to a god was infinitely safer than being Captain of a suicide squad.
"That haiku!" Basho exclaimed, clapping his hands theatrically. "That was the greatest haiku I have ever heard! Truly moving! A masterpiece!"
Baise rolled her eyes so hard they almost fell out of her head. Shameless ass-kisser.
"Lord Ryker," she purred, bowing low to show off her cleavage. "Serving under you is the honor of a lifetime."
"Me too!" Squala and Melody chimed in, terrified of being left out of the loyalty contest.
Ryker ignored the sycophancy. He was busy analyzing his new toy.
[Incantation Manifestation] was versatile. Low-level spells like Shakkahō worked perfectly. But what about the high-tier stuff? Or the Transformations? He'd need test subjects. Thankfully, Yorknew would provide plenty.
"Enough," Ryker waved his hand. "Take us to the target."
The Inner Sanctum.
"This way, Captain."
Dalzollene bowed like a well-trained butler, leading the group through the opulent corridors of the hotel suite. Gold leaf, marble, silk tapestries—Light Nostrade spared no expense.
Halfway down the hall, they passed a disturbing piece of art. It was a 3D relief sculpture embedded in the wall—a man, frozen in a scream, his limbs twisted, looking like he was drowning in the plaster.
"That..." Kurapika stopped. "Is that a sculpture?"
The detail was horrifyingly realistic.
"Ah," Dalzollene said nervously. "That's... Holm. A former colleague. He didn't follow protocol. His mistake endangered the Boss. So... this is his punishment."
He glanced at Ryker, sweating. "If it offends you, Captain, I can have it removed."
"No need," Ryker said, barely glancing at the frozen man. "It adds character. Let's go."
Dalzollene swallowed hard. He had put that "sculpture" there to intimidate the rookies. Now, it just felt like a bad omen for himself.
They reached a set of double doors guarded by heavy velvet curtains.
"Boss," Dalzollene knocked gently. "The new security team is here. May we enter?"
"Come in," a muffled voice replied.
The doors opened. A middle-aged maid ushered them into a room that smelled of expensive perfume and old paper. Behind a sheer curtain sat a figure.
"Captain, please," Dalzollene gestured.
Ryker walked forward, pulling the curtain aside.
Sitting on a plush chair was a girl. Blue hair, wide eyes, dressed in fine clothes but radiating an air of spoiled boredom. She looked up at the intruders with curiosity.
Neon Nostrade. The Golden Goose.
She stared at Ryker for a moment, tilting her head.
"He's pretty," she said, pointing a manicured finger at Ryker. Then, she turned to Dalzollene with a casual, innocent smile.
"Dalzollene? Peel off his face for me. I want it for my collection."
FUCK.
The air in the room vanished.
Dalzollene looked like he had been shot. His knees buckled. He wanted to cry. He wanted to die. He wanted to go back in time and become a farmer.
Peel off his face?!
Miss Neon, are you insane?! Do you know who this is?!
"Miss!" Dalzollene squeaked, sweat pouring down his face like a waterfall. "This is Mr. Ryker! A Two-Star Hunter! He is—"
He didn't dare look at Ryker. He was terrified that the man would simply kill everyone in the room to save time. Dalzollene knew his own strength. Compared to Tocino, he was stronger. Compared to Ryker? He was an ant trying to bench-press a boot.
Slap!
The sound was crisp, loud, and shocking.
Before anyone could process what was happening, Ryker had stepped forward. He didn't argue. He didn't negotiate. He simply backhanded Neon across the face.
The force of the blow spun her head around. A perfect red handprint bloomed on her pale cheek.
Neon sat there, stunned. Her world had just shattered.
She was the Princess of the Mafia. Her father worshiped her. Her bodyguards feared her. If she wanted a human body part, she got it. Her life was a paved road of indulgence and cruelty, insulated by money and blood.
But now?
Her cheek burned. Her ears rang.
Ryker stood over her, smiling faintly.
He wasn't angry. He was checking the System.
[Target: Neon Nostrade]
[Traits: {Specialist Talent} (Gold), {Lovely Ghostwriter} (Gold), {Collector} (Purple), {Masochist} (Purple), {Loneliness} (Purple)]
No notification?
Ryker frowned. The System hadn't registered a combat state yet.
Slap!
He hit her again. Backhand.
Neon gasped, tears welling in her eyes.
The room was paralyzed.
Dalzollene felt his soul leaving his body.
Kurapika watched with stoic eyes. He knew Light Nostrade's empire was built on blood. This girl, casually asking for a man's face, was a monster in human skin. Ryker was just teaching her the pecking order.
But the others? They were terrified.
Assaulting the Boss's daughter? The Golden Goose?
If Light Nostrade found out, he would hunt them to the ends of the earth.
"Captain..." Squala whimpered. "Please..."
"Crazy... he's crazy!" Baise whispered. She touched her own cheek, remembering the slap she took earlier. Suddenly, she felt lucky. Neon was getting the deluxe treatment.
Neon touched her bleeding lip. She looked up at Ryker, her eyes wide, trembling.
She didn't scream. She didn't call for help.
She looked... excited?
Oh, right. Ryker remembered her traits. {Masochist} (Purple).
She had never been denied anything. Pain was a novelty. Being dominated was a thrill.
"Troublesome," Ryker muttered. "The {Masochist} trait is interfering with the hostility detection. I need her to fight back, or at least fear for her life."
Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap!
Ryker grabbed her by the collar and unleashed a flurry of slaps. Left, right, left, right.
He wasn't abusing her. He was debugging the System.
To the onlookers, it was a brutal beatdown. Neon's face was swelling rapidly. She looked like a bruised peach.
The maid finally snapped out of her shock. "Miss Neon!" she shrieked, running toward the door. "I'll call the Boss!"
Thud.
Kurapika stepped in, delivering a swift chop to the maid's neck. She crumpled to the floor, unconscious.
"Hiss..." Dalzollene inhaled sharply.
He was cooked. He was roasted. He was served on a platter.
Neon had threatened to skin a Two-Star Hunter. Ryker had responded by tenderizing her face.
This was a disaster.
Finally, Neon's brain registered the genuine danger. The thrill of pain gave way to the primal fear of death. Her body stiffened, her aura flaring in a panic response.
[DING! Hostility Detected. Combat State Engaged.]
Finally.
"Took you long enough," Ryker sighed. "Triggering NPCs is such a hassle."
He pulled back his fist.
BAM!
A solid, heavy punch to the gut.
Neon folded like a lawn chair. She flew backward, crashing onto her opulent bed, and went limp instantly. Unconscious.
Silence.
Absolute, terrified silence.
Dalzollene was trembling so hard his teeth chattered. He wanted to kneel and beg for mercy, but his legs wouldn't work.
It's over. We're all dead. Light Nostrade will kill us all.
Ryker, however, was beaming.
[DING! You defeated Neon Nostrade.]
[DING! 10% Chance to Plunder Trait...]
[DING! Failed.]
[DING! Talent {Lucky Star} Activated. Forced Plunder Initiated.]
[DING! Success! Acquired: {Specialist Talent} (Gold).]
[System: Target Cooldown: 3 Days.]
Jackpot.
Ryker cracked his neck, looking at the unconscious girl on the bed.
"Don't look so grim, everyone," Ryker said, turning to his terrified team. "She needed a lesson in manners. Besides..."
He grinned.
"I just saved her life. If she had asked anyone else for their face, she would be dead. I'm a nice guy."
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