BOOOOOOM!
A deafening explosion rocked the badlands.
Everyone stared in absolute shock at the space directly behind Binolt. Where a small, rocky hill had stood just moments prior, there was now nothing but a smoking crater over a hundred meters in diameter.
Along with the hill, Binolt's right arm had been completely vaporized.
The serial killer collapsed to the dirt, screaming in agony as he clutched his bleeding stump. Cold sweat poured down his face, and his entire body convulsed from the shock and excruciating pain.
"Consider that the price for attempting to ambush us," Ryker said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "Furthermore, during our little exchange, I planted a Lightning Core directly next to your heart. If you ever harbor malicious intentions toward us again... you will die a much, much uglier death than that."
Binolt shivered violently. He looked up at the terrifying teenager, his eyes filled with a mixture of absolute dread and profound reverence.
"I... I understand," Binolt gasped through the pain. "Thank... thank you..."
He knew that surviving an encounter with this monster was the greatest stroke of luck he would ever experience in his miserable life.
"Get out of my sight. Before I change my mind," Ryker waved his hand dismissively.
Binolt didn't hesitate. He scrambled to his feet and stumbled away into the badlands, a broken but living man. Ryker had only spared him out of a fleeting sense of pity for his tragic childhood—nothing more. And with the Lightning Core resting against his aorta, the serial killer's life was permanently tethered to Ryker's whim.
"..."
The group watched in silence until Binolt disappeared over the horizon.
"Phew... I suppose that was the best way to handle it," Biscuit sighed, placing her hands on her hips. "Hopefully, he truly turns over a new leaf like he promised. Now then, we shouldn't waste any more time here. We have a long road ahead."
"I feel so much stronger than before!" Gon grinned, flexing his fists.
"Yeah, me too," Killua agreed, sparking a small arc of electricity between his fingers.
After their grueling, life-or-death combat training, the boys' baseline combat abilities had skyrocketed. They could easily wipe the floor with their past selves.
However, they hadn't walked far before they stumbled upon a colorful, balloon-covered tent sitting in the middle of the wasteland. It was a Greed Island NPC Item Shop.
"Mr. Ryker, why don't you take a break here for a while?" Biscuit smiled brightly. "I need to take these two back to the starting point for a different kind of training. I can buy the tools we need right here!"
Gon and Killua, who had just been celebrating their newfound strength, instantly froze.
Under their horrified gazes, Biscuit skipped over to the shop and purchased two heavy iron shovels and a large wooden wheelbarrow. She then dragged the protesting boys all the way back to the entrance of the rocky canyon.
Their new task? Dig a tunnel straight through the solid bedrock all the way to Masadora.
"Tough break, boys," Ryker chuckled, watching them go. "Make sure you listen to Master Bisky! She's an excellent teacher!"
Gon and Killua's miserable, subterranean labor had officially begun.
Ryker, on the other hand, couldn't care less. He was perfectly content to lounge around and relax. Once the boys leveled up and developed their signature Hatsu techniques, he could simply 'spar' with them and plunder their newly formed traits.
Your abilities are my abilities! Ryker smiled to himself, settling in for a nap.
Meanwhile, in a dimly lit tavern somewhere in Greed Island...
"Damn it all! Genthru is dead!"
A man with short, purplish-red hair and a bizarre double-spade tattoo on his forehead slammed his beer mug onto the wooden table. His face was twisted in a mixture of rage and terror. "Word on the street is that he was killed by some brat who just entered the game! It's unbelievable!"
Across the table, a man with long, dark hair growled under his breath. "And that's not the worst part. I heard that brat completely dismantled Genthru's bombs. If that kid stays in this game, he's our natural predator."
These two men were Sub and Bara—the surviving members of the infamous Bomber Trio.
Learning of their leader's death had struck them like a thunderbolt. But what terrified them more were the rumors spreading among the players: the kid named Ryker hadn't even used Spell Cards to kill Genthru. He had dismantled the explosives with his bare hands and crushed the Bomber in a head-on fight.
As long as Ryker was in the game, their extortion racket was useless. If they tried to plant bombs on other players, Ryker could just swoop in, defuse them, and look like a savior while painting a massive target on their backs. Their chances of clearing the game and claiming the 50 billion Jenny reward had plummeted to zero.
"I've secretly planted a few more bombs over the last few days," Sub whispered darkly. "If it comes down to it, we'll kidnap those players and use them as meat shields to swarm that little bastard!"
"We can detonate them all at once! Yes, a suicide bombing!" Bara agreed, his eyes flashing with desperate malice.
They had to eliminate Ryker. Whether it was for revenge or for the prize money, the boy had to die.
"Hehe... I heard this tavern just stocked a new vintage. Aren't you going to offer to buy everyone a round?"
A smooth, chillingly calm voice suddenly drifted from the shadows.
Sub and Bara stiffened. They slowly turned their heads to see two figures casually approaching their table.
One was a handsome man with a prominent cross tattoo on his forehead. The other was a tall, unnerving man dressed in a jester's outfit. They moved with a terrifyingly relaxed grace and seated themselves directly at the Bombers' table.
"Who the hell are you?" Sub spat, his hand inching toward his weapons. People seeking them out in dark corners rarely meant well.
"Don't be so hostile," the man with the cross tattoo—Chrollo Lucilfer—smiled warmly. "We merely wish to propose a partnership. You see, in a way, our goals align perfectly. We both want that little boy dead."
"I have no idea what you're talking about. And we don't do partnerships," Bara sneered, standing up. "We're leaving."
"Possessing such a unique explosive ability, yet choosing to skulk in the shadows like rats... it's obvious you two will never achieve true greatness," Chrollo said softly, his dark eyes locking onto Bara. "Why don't you lend your abilities to me instead?"
Sub and Bara's blood ran cold.
How do they know about the bombs?!
Their identity as the 'Bomber' was their most closely guarded secret. If anyone in the tavern overheard this conversation, they would be lynched by the entire player base in seconds.
"I said, I don't know what you're talking about!" Bara roared, turning to bolt for the door.
THWACK! THWACK!
Before Bara could take a single step, a sickening pain erupted in his knees. He crashed hard onto the floor.
Two glowing, blood-red playing cards were embedded deep into his kneecaps.
"Now, now, where are your manners?" Hisoka purred, a sadistic, bloodthirsty grin stretching across his painted face. "Leaving without even buying us a drink? How disappointing."
"You bastards! You're dead!" Sub roared, his aura flaring as he lunged across the table to attack Chrollo.
SWISH—SWISH!
Two more red streaks flashed through the dim light. Sub's wrists and ankles were instantly pinned to the wooden floorboards by playing cards.
The Bombers opened their mouths to scream in agony, but no sound came out.
A thick, invisible, rubbery membrane—Hisoka's Bungee Gum—had instantly clamped over their mouths, sealing their screams in their throats. In the loud, raucous tavern, not a single patron noticed the brutal subjugation happening in the dark corner.
"W-Who are you monsters?!" Sub's eyes widened in absolute, primal terror. The vicious arrogance from moments prior had completely evaporated.
They finally realized the truth: the two men sitting across from them were apex predators. They hadn't used a single Spell Card; they had completely dismantled two elite Nen users with nothing but raw, overwhelming combat power.
"Our names? You don't need to know them," Chrollo smiled pleasantly, pulling a thick, crimson book from thin air. "It is time to make a choice. I only need one of you to survive. Tell me... which one of you is willing to live?"
Sub and Bara stared at the man, their faces draining of all color. They began to tremble uncontrollably.
Two minutes later.
Four figures walked out of the tavern's front doors.
"We barely got to finish our drinks. How terribly dull," Hisoka sighed, shuffling a deck of cards with blinding speed.
"Patience. Once we deal with Ryker, I'll buy you drinks for three days straight. And as for our agreement... you will get the fight you desire," Chrollo replied calmly.
Walking beside Chrollo was Sub. But the bomber's face was paler than a corpse, his eyes blown wide with permanent, unadulterated trauma.
During the ultimatum, Bara had stubbornly refused to betray his partner.
And so, Bara died.
Hisoka had decapitated him with a single flick of a card, sending a geyser of blood and brain matter splashing directly across Sub's face. The sheer horror of the execution had shattered Sub's mind instantly, and he immediately surrendered his loyalty to Chrollo.
But what happened next was even worse.
Under Sub's traumatized gaze, massive amounts of thin Nen threads had pierced through Bara's corpse. The severed head was rapidly stitched back onto the neck. Then, like a grotesque marionette, the dead man stood up. The corpse's eyes were clouded and dead, devoid of a soul, yet it moved perfectly.
Now, Sub was forced to physically support the reanimated, zombified corpse of his best friend as they followed the two monsters into the night.
Bara's explosive Nen ability had already been stolen, permanently locked away within Chrollo's [Bandit's Secret].
"I certainly hope so. Hehe," Hisoka chuckled darkly, a dangerous glint in his golden eyes.
Half a month later.
Covered in dirt, sweat, and grime, Gon and Killua finally broke through the bedrock, completing Biscuit's brutal tunneling assignment.
Their aura was visibly denser, their muscles more defined.
As Ryker looked at them, his eyes practically turned into dollar signs. He could clearly see the new traits hovering above their heads.
Killua had manifested [Lightning Nen] (Purple)!
Gon had manifested [Charged Smash] (Gold)! The prototype for his Jajanken!
"Brother Ryker! We finally finished! We're so much stronger now, even Master Bisky praised us!" Gon cheered, waving his dirt-caked hands.
"Ryker! Fight me!" Killua demanded instantly, pointing a challenging finger at the older boy.
"Well, well," Ryker sighed, feigning reluctance while internally jumping for joy. Someone had just delivered pillows to him right when he was getting sleepy. He had been trying to think of an excuse to beat the traits out of them, and here they were, offering themselves up on a silver platter.
"Alright then. Let's test the fruits of your labor," Ryker smiled, rolling his shoulders and cracking his knuckles.
Getting a Purple and a Gold trait for absolutely free? Greed Island truly was paradise.
Ring! Ring! Ring!
Just as Ryker stepped forward to accept the challenge, a sharp ringing tone interrupted the moment.
"Hm?"
Ryker paused, pulling up his Greed Island Binder interface. A specific contact icon was flashing urgently on the screen.
Well, that's a surprise, Ryker raised an eyebrow.
He hadn't expected this particular person to contact him, especially after so much time had passed. And judging by the frantic nature of the call... they were in deep trouble.
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