"Sir! Help me! P-Please, my lord—!"
Tsezguerra's desperate, agonizing scream crackled through the Greed Island binder communicator. He sounded heavily injured. Seconds later, a GPS coordinate pinged on Ryker's screen before the transmission was abruptly severed.
Ryker's expression darkened.
Tsezguerra was a Single-Star Hunter and the leader of the multi-billionaire Battera's official Greed Island clearing team. Among professional Hunters, he was considered an elite.
For him to be pushed to the brink of death so quickly... something was very wrong.
According to my knowledge of the original timeline, Tsezguerra's team does eventually get outplayed by Genthru's Bomber trio, Ryker thought, his eyes narrowing. But it was a strategic loss. It never escalated to a sudden, brutal massacre like this.
It seemed Ryker's presence—specifically his execution of Genthru—had severely violently altered the timeline.
"We're heading out," Ryker decided after a brief moment of contemplation. "Gon, Killua, Bisky—move."
Regardless of the circumstances, Ryker had entered this game using the billionaire Battera's consoles and funds. Battera's only request had been for Ryker to occasionally look out for his clearing team. Since Tsezguerra was directly employed by Battera, Ryker felt a slight obligation to honor the billionaire's investment.
"Right!" Gon and Killua nodded instantly, sensing the urgency in his tone.
Greed Island. The Soufrabi Plains.
"I... I did exactly what you asked! I sent the distress signal! Now let me go!"
Tsezguerra, covered in blood and barely able to stand, stared in absolute terror at the four men standing before him.
He recognized two of them immediately: Sub and Bara, the surviving members of the infamous Bomber trio.
But it was the other two men who truly terrified him.
One was a handsome young man with a distinct cross tattoo on his forehead. The other was a tall, unnerving man dressed as a jester, his face painted with a teardrop and a star.
Half an hour ago, these four had suddenly materialized in the middle of the plains and immediately launched a completely unprovoked attack on Tsezguerra's clearing team.
Even after Tsezguerra had surrendered and explicitly stated they had no intention of fighting, the slaughter had continued. Desperate, Tsezguerra had ordered his fifty-man team to fight back.
What followed wasn't a battle. It was an execution.
The entire fifty-man team had been utterly annihilated by just one of the men—the jester. Armed with nothing but playing cards, he had danced through their ranks like a demon, effortlessly severing limbs and slicing throats.
Now, the Soufrabi Plains resembled a slaughterhouse.
Dozens of players lay screaming in pools of their own blood, their severed limbs scattered across the grass alongside their dropped Spell Books. Tsezguerra himself hadn't lasted three minutes against the jester before being crippled.
But the physical violence wasn't what had broken Tsezguerra's spirit. It was what happened after the players died.
The man with the cross tattoo had calmly walked among the corpses. He would slice open the skulls of the dead players, delicately extract their brains, and place them inside a bizarre, conjured grid-like cabinet.
Once the brains were stored, the man would manipulate the brainless corpses with invisible Nen threads. The gaping wounds would stitch themselves shut, and the dead players would lurch back to their feet.
They had become mindless, dead-eyed zombies. Flesh puppets.
Seeing his comrades butchered, mutilated, and then reanimated into unholy abominations had completely shattered Tsezguerra's resolve.
To make matters worse, the two Bombers had then moved through the surviving, injured players, attaching their signature [Countdown] bombs to everyone—including Tsezguerra.
It was only then that Tsezguerra realized the horrifying truth: the Bombers, despite their terrifying reputation, were nothing but mindless puppets serving the man with the cross tattoo. One of the Bombers was clearly dead and reanimated, while the other looked like a traumatized, broken slave.
The entire group was being controlled by the man with the cross.
When the bombs were set, the cross-tattooed man had ordered Tsezguerra to use his binder to call Ryker for help. Tsezguerra had heard the rumors that Ryker possessed an ability to defuse the Bombers' explosives. Desperate to save his men, Tsezguerra had complied, hoping Ryker would arrive and miraculously save them.
If any Phantom Troupe members had been present, they would have instantly recognized the two leaders: Chrollo Lucilfer and Hisoka Morow.
But in reality, the Chrollo and Hisoka standing on the plains were not the real ones.
They were high-tier flesh puppets, remotely controlled by the real Chrollo from a safe location.
Over the past few weeks, Chrollo had been hunting down specific players on Greed Island to steal their abilities. He had acquired two crucial Hatsu techniques:
[Brain Storage Cabinet] and [Absolute Marionette].
By combining these abilities, Chrollo no longer needed to keep his victims alive to use their Hatsu, nor did he need to be physically present to control them. As long as he preserved their brains in the cabinet, he could control their corpses remotely, practically operating them like video game avatars. Furthermore, by pouring his own aura into the puppets, he could grant them nearly 90% of his original combat strength. He had even given Hisoka the 'controller' to one of the puppets so they could fight side-by-side without risking their actual bodies.
"I'm starting to think you're the real nightmare of this world, Chrollo," the Hisoka-puppet chuckled, stretching its arms. "But this little setup makes me even more excited for our upcoming fight with Ryker~"
"Patience. Today is merely a test," the Chrollo-puppet replied calmly. "We will see if our combined strength is enough to eliminate him. If we fail, we simply log off and try again."
"Naturally~" Hisoka grinned.
Hearing their casual conversation, Tsezguerra's blood ran cold. He finally realized he was nothing but bait in a massive, elaborate trap designed to kill Ryker. And regardless of the outcome, he and his men were never going to survive.
SQUELCH.
Suddenly, several invisible Nen threads pierced violently through Tsezguerra's limbs, pinning him to the ground. A final, thicker thread drove directly through his skull.
Tsezguerra's eyes widened in sheer disbelief, his face frozen in a mask of shock. He didn't understand why they had killed him after he had cooperated. He had planned to shout a warning to Ryker the moment the boy arrived, but Chrollo hadn't even given him the chance.
"S-Sir!"
The surviving players screamed in horror as their leader's eyes rolled back into his head.
"He's here. Hehe," the Chrollo-puppet smiled, looking up at the sky.
Controlling these high-tier puppets felt incredible. It was like sitting in a bunker and flying a heavily armed military drone into a warzone. There was zero personal risk.
BOOM!
Four figures plummeted from the sky, cratering the earth upon impact. It was a long-distance fast-travel card effect.
The Hisoka and Chrollo puppets immediately narrowed their eyes, their gazes locking onto Biscuit.
"Four of them? That's slightly unexpected," the Hisoka-puppet murmured. "One of them has an incredibly dense aura. She's far stronger than the two brats."
"Sir! Help us!"
The Tsezguerra-puppet suddenly began screaming, thrashing wildly against the dirt, its hands seemingly pinned by Hisoka's cards.
It was a flawless performance by Chrollo, puppeteering the freshly killed Hunter to look like a desperate hostage.
"Oh?"
Ryker stood up from the crater, brushing the dust off his coat. He swept his gaze across the plains, his lips slowly curling into an irrepressible smirk.
This is hilarious.
Through the System's interface, Ryker could see the glowing text boxes hovering above every single person in the area.
Virtually every player on the ground had the same Purple trait:
[Time Bomb (Countdown)] (Purple)!
But more importantly, half of the players—including Tsezguerra—had another trait:
[Human Skin Puppet] (Purple)
[Status: The host is dead and is currently being operated via remote telekinesis.]
Aww, what a shame, Ryker sighed internally. I was actually hoping to save Tsezguerra to fulfill my promise to Battera. But you guys had to go and die before I even got here.
Ryker then looked at the four 'villains' standing opposite him.
[Target: Sub]
[Target: Bara (Puppet)]
[Target: Chrollo Lucilfer (Puppet)]
[Target: Hisoka Morow (Puppet)]
Interesting. They didn't even come in person. They set a trap using drones, Ryker sneered.
"Brother Ryker! It's Mr. Tsezguerra!" Gon gasped, stepping forward.
"Gon, wait. Something's wrong," Killua warned, his assassin's instincts screaming at him. He smelled the thick stench of blood and saw the mutilated corpses scattered across the grass.
"Be careful. The aura radiating from those players on the ground is completely unstable. It's incredibly bizarre," Biscuit warned, her eyes narrowing as she analyzed the battlefield.
"I see you've recognized us, Ryker," the Chrollo-puppet smiled pleasantly. "However, the current situation heavily favors us. How exactly do you plan to save these hostages?"
The Hisoka-puppet stood silently to the side, radiating a chilling, venomous killing intent.
Even though they were merely puppets, Chrollo and Hisoka had poured vast amounts of aura into them. They were operating at nearly 90% of their true strength. For them, this was the ultimate simulation battle.
"Save me! Please! You promised Mr. Battera you'd help us!" the Tsezguerra-puppet wailed, flawlessly acting out its role.
"Do you hear that?" Chrollo smiled. "I will make you a deal. If you allow us to sever one of your arms, I will release every single hostage here. Since you possess some form of rapid cellular regeneration, losing an arm shouldn't be a permanent loss for you. It's a very fair trade."
Chrollo had specifically stolen a Nen ability that inflicted a localized necrotic freeze. The moment Ryker's arm was severed, Chrollo would freeze the stump, completely nullifying Ryker's hyper-regeneration. It would cripple the boy instantly, practically guaranteeing their victory.
It was a dirty, underhanded tactic—but against a monster like Ryker, Chrollo didn't care about honor.
"Don't do it, Mr. Ryker!" Biscuit yelled. "They have absolutely no intention of keeping their word!"
"Please... please save us! I have a family!"
"I don't want to die!"
The surviving players—and the puppets—began to beg and weep, creating a cacophony of despair.
Gon clenched his fists, his heart aching for the suffering players. He looked up at Ryker, hoping his older brother would find a way to save them.
But to Gon's shock, Ryker's face held no sympathy. Instead, Ryker looked utterly bored, his eyes filled with mocking contempt.
"I have to admit, Chrollo... it's a tragic situation," Ryker chuckled, shaking his head. "If I had arrived half an hour earlier, I might have actually entertained this little hostage negotiation. But unfortunately, your leverage is completely worthless."
Ryker smirked, his eyes flashing with golden light. "I don't negotiate for the lives of corpses."
Chrollo and Hisoka's expressions violently shifted.
He saw through it?! He instantly knew they were already dead?!
"It seems the elaborate setup was unnecessary," the Hisoka-puppet sighed, drawing a deck of razor-sharp cards. "Let's just kill him."
"A pity. I suppose we have no choice but to swarm them," the Chrollo-puppet commanded.
Instantly, the dozens of reanimated corpses—including Tsezguerra—lurched to their feet, their dead eyes locking onto Ryker's group. The Bombers primed their detonators. It was going to be a massacre.
"You want to talk about swarming?" Ryker laughed out loud, a terrifying, suffocating spiritual pressure erupting from his body. "If we're talking about jumping people... I think you're the ones who are outnumbered!"
Ryker snapped his fingers.
CRACK!
The air behind Ryker instantly tore open, revealing the black void of a Garganta.
Massive, terrifying figures stepped out of the darkness one by one.
Sosuke Aizen!
Ulquiorra Cifer!
Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez!
Shizuku!
Machi!
Chrollo and Hisoka stared in absolute, paralyzing horror as the Espada descended upon Greed Island.
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