"You?!"
The Hisoka-puppet's eyes bulged, its painted face twisting into an expression of absolute disbelief as it stared at the pale, green-eyed man standing beside Ryker.
Ulquiorra Cifer.
Hisoka would never forget that man's face. It was this exact man who had effortlessly severed his arm during the Heavens Arena arc, inflicting the most humiliating defeat of his entire life. The memory of that crushing, hopeless loss had tortured Hisoka day and night.
In fact, his defeat at Ulquiorra's hands was the primary reason Hisoka had agreed to collaborate with Chrollo for this ambush. He viewed Ulquiorra as his ultimate prey—the greatest obstacle he had to overcome to achieve his twisted perfection.
But now...
Hisoka couldn't comprehend what he was seeing.
The man he considered his ultimate nemesis was standing passively behind Ryker, radiating the distinct, obedient aura of a subordinate.
What the hell is going on?! Hisoka's mind raced. What is his relationship with Ryker?!
Hisoka frantically recalled the events at Heavens Arena. He had investigated thoroughly, but he had never found a single thread connecting Ulquiorra to Ryker. They had seemed like two completely independent anomalies.
And it wasn't just Ulquiorra.
Standing on the other side of Ryker was a handsome, bespectacled man with a gentle smile.
Sosuke Aizen.
Aizen was currently the #2 target on the Phantom Troupe's hit list. Months ago, Machi and several other Spiders had tracked Aizen to Meteor City... and subsequently vanished without a trace. Chrollo had tried desperately to contact them, but it was as if they had fallen off the face of the earth.
As a member of the Troupe (albeit a fake one), Hisoka knew all about the Meteor City incident.
Why is Aizen here?! Why is he also standing behind Ryker?! What the hell happened in Meteor City?!
Nothing made sense. Every single variable had violently exceeded Hisoka's calculations.
And then there was the third man—a vicious-looking guy with spiky blue hair and a feral grin. Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. Hisoka remembered him completely dominating his matches in Heavens Arena with a flawless win record. He had wanted to fight the blue-haired brawler, but never got the chance.
Now, he too was standing behind Ryker, looking ready to rip someone's throat out.
While Hisoka was reeling from shock, Chrollo's internal state was far worse.
Chrollo had meticulously researched Aizen. He had drafted countless contingency plans to hunt down the man who had supposedly wiped out his Troupe members in Meteor City. He had also plotted out how to handle Ryker, and how to eventually assist Hisoka in hunting Ulquiorra.
He had intended to take them out one by one, executing a flawless, step-by-step strategy. Even as the leader of the Phantom Troupe, Chrollo knew that fighting even one of these monsters required absolute caution and preparation.
He never, in his darkest nightmares, imagined that all of his ultimate targets would appear in the exact same place, at the exact same time.
It was as if they had all formed an alliance under Ryker's banner.
That realization made Chrollo's scalp tingle with dread.
But what truly shattered Chrollo's composure were the two figures standing at the rear of Ryker's formation.
Machi and Shizuku.
His missing Troupe members.
"Machi... Shizuku..." Chrollo muttered through his puppet's lips.
He looked at them desperately, but the two girls simply stared back at him with dead, empty eyes. There was no recognition. No warmth. They looked at Chrollo as if he were a complete stranger.
As a master manipulator and puppeteer himself, Chrollo instantly recognized the signs.
"Chrollo, they aren't your Spiders anymore," the Hisoka-puppet warned, its voice grim. "They are under his absolute control."
Chrollo glared at Ryker, pure, unadulterated hatred burning in his eyes.
To Chrollo, wealth, fame, and power meant nothing. The only thing in the world he truly valued was the Phantom Troupe—his family.
But now, his family was being systematically dismantled. Several members had already been slaughtered by Ryker, and now, two of his beloved Spiders had been reduced to mindless slaves.
"Release Machi and Shizuku," Chrollo gritted his teeth, his normally calm demeanor completely fracturing. "Release them, and we can negotiate."
"Oh? Negotiate?" Ryker chuckled, a mocking smile playing on his lips. "Why don't you ask them yourself? Machi, Shizuku... do you want to go back to him?"
"We exist only to serve the Master. We will protect the Master with our lives," Machi and Shizuku replied in perfect, eerie unison, their voices devoid of emotion.
Having lost to Ryker in his [Nen Game], their wills and loyalties had been completely overwritten. They belonged to him body and soul. There were only two ways they could ever be freed: if Ryker willingly released them, or if Ryker died.
Hearing their robotic responses, Chrollo felt his heart bleed.
"Is there truly no room for negotiation?" Chrollo hissed, his aura flaring violently.
"You set a lethal ambush for me using explosive slaves and necromancy. You forfeited your right to negotiate the second I arrived," Ryker sneered coldly. "If I were the one losing right now, do you think you'd show me mercy?"
Ryker scoffed. "This is a world where the strong eat the weak. Don't insult my intelligence by pretending you have morals."
Chrollo's precious 'family bond' might seem touching to the Spiders, but to the rest of the world, they were monsters. Every single member of the Phantom Troupe was a mass murderer with oceans of blood on their hands.
Machi and Shizuku were no exceptions. Shizuku's vacuum cleaner, Blinky, was practically designed to hide the corpses of the innocent people they slaughtered. They were all born in Meteor City, a lawless wasteland where human life had no value.
No snowflake in an avalanche ever feels responsible, Ryker thought callously. There is no room for crocodile tears here.
"I see. Since there is no room for talk..." Chrollo's expression turned terrifyingly dark. "Then we fight to the bitter end!"
SWISH!
The Tsezguerra-puppet moved first!
Under Chrollo's remote command, the reanimated Hunter whipped out his binder, preparing to activate a high-tier offensive Spell Card. Against a team of this caliber, Chrollo knew that relying purely on martial arts was suicide. He needed to abuse the game's mechanics.
SQUELCH!
But before Tsezguerra could even touch a card, he froze.
The puppet stood perfectly still, its dead eyes widening in a grotesque imitation of shock.
A massive, razor-sharp blue claw was protruding directly from the center of its chest.
The Tsezguerra-puppet had been completely impaled from behind. The claw had entered through its right shoulder blade and violently ripped diagonally down through its torso, shredding its spine, lungs, and heart like wet tissue paper.
In front of the horrified gazes of the surviving players, the elite Hunter was casually sliced into two separate pieces. The top half of his torso slid off the bottom half, hitting the dirt with a sickening thud.
Standing behind the bisected corpse was the blue-haired Arrancar, his hand dripping with gore.
Grimmjow grinned, licking a drop of blood off his cheek with feral delight.
As an apex predator specializing in hyper-speed melee combat, Grimmjow was an absolute master of the blitz-kill.
Chrollo and Hisoka's expressions violently contorted.
So fast! Hisoka thought, a bead of cold sweat forming on the puppet's brow. If he had aimed that attack at me... I would have been severely injured before I could even react!
Even though they were using puppets that lacked their full bodily instincts, Grimmjow's speed was undeniably terrifying.
"Attack! Everyone, attack them now!" Chrollo roared, his voice echoing across the plains. "If you kill them, I will deactivate your bombs! Anyone who hesitates for more than three seconds will be detonated instantly!"
The terrified, bomb-collared players froze.
They had just watched Grimmjow physically tear a Single-Star Hunter in half in the blink of an eye. Attacking Ryker's team was literal suicide.
But time was a luxury they didn't have.
BOOM! BOOM!
To prove he wasn't bluffing, Chrollo immediately ordered the Bomber-puppets to detonate two of the players who hadn't moved. The two men instantly exploded into a mist of blood and shrapnel.
"Aaaah! Kill them! We have to kill them!"
"I don't want to die!"
"If we fight, we might live!"
Driven entirely by the primal terror of the ticking bombs on their chests, the dozens of players screamed like cornered animals and charged toward Ryker's group.
Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh!
Before the mob could even take ten steps, Machi stepped forward.
Her fingers moved in a mesmerizing, impossibly fast blur. Hundreds of practically invisible Nen threads shot outward like a spiderweb, piercing straight through the charging players.
The ordinary players were nothing but cannon fodder. In a matter of seconds, they were all suspended mid-air, completely immobilized by Machi's strings.
However, Ryker's glowing golden eyes narrowed.
Through the System UI, he could clearly see the [Time Bomb] timers on their chests. And the timers had all just hit zero.
"Release!" Chrollo commanded sharply.
The Sub and Bara puppets triggered the mass detonation.
BOOOOOOOOOOM!
Dozens of high-yield Nen explosives detonated simultaneously.
Because the bombs were clustered together, the explosive force multiplied exponentially. A terrifying, blinding flash of light engulfed the plains, followed instantly by a deafening roar that shook the very foundations of Greed Island.
A massive, fiery mushroom cloud slowly rose into the sky, visible from miles away.
The sheer concussive shockwave violently blew the Chrollo and Hisoka puppets hundreds of meters backward.
Searing heat and thick, choking dust swept across the landscape. The screams of the players were instantly swallowed by the roar of the blast.
When the dust finally began to settle, the Soufrabi Plains were completely unrecognizable.
Where the lush grass and hills had been, there was now only a smoldering, glassed crater nearly five hundred meters in diameter.
Any player caught in the blast radius had been instantly vaporized. The Sub and Bara puppets had also been destroyed by their own explosion—a darkly ironic end for the Bombers.
Chrollo and Hisoka slowly stood up, their puppet bodies heavily burned and battered.
They remained perfectly silent, their eyes locked intensely on the center of the massive crater.
The heat of the blast had been enough to melt solid steel. Even someone with Isaac Netero's durability would have suffered catastrophic injuries at the epicenter.
As the smoke cleared, they stared at the blackened, scorched earth.
There were no bodies. No limbs. Nothing.
Did it work? Hisoka wondered, his eyes narrowing. Did we actually vaporize them?
No. That's impossible, Chrollo's mind raced. They are too strong to be completely erased like that. Especially Ryker. He has hyper-regeneration...
"Oh, I'm sorry to disappoint you. We're not dead."
A calm, mocking voice echoed from directly behind them.
Chrollo and Hisoka whipped around, their puppet faces contorting in absolute, primal horror.
Standing on the edge of the crater, completely unharmed and lacking even a speck of dust on his clothes, was Ryker.
Behind him stood Aizen, Ulquiorra, Grimmjow, Shizuku, Machi, Bisky, Gon, and Killua.
Ryker smiled warmly, looking at the massive crater. "But I have to admit... that explosion really reminded me of the fireworks back home on New Year's Eve."
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