"Finally completed the third shift… Kidney Deficiency Face."
Uvogin and Nobunaga were still lying in shallow craters they had made themselves.
Watching the two of them stare at him with expressions as twisted as Gon's face when Hisoka crushed him in Heavens Arena, Rimo suddenly felt extremely refreshed.
Sure enough, overwhelming strength that could not be displayed was like Kurapika's chains without targets. Meaningless.
"Unlimited Technique," Rimo corrected lazily. "I named it Unlimited Technique."
He clasped his hands behind his back and explained in a relaxed tone.
"Simply put, I created a highly compressed spatial interval around me. It looks like only a small distance separates us… but in reality, that distance is infinitely divided."
He tapped the air in front of him.
"The closer your attack approaches, the more its movement is subdivided. Forward and backward vectors are equally restricted. That's why you felt like you were pulling back… but in fact, your force was just rotating in place."
The principle was not unlike manipulating flow with Ryu, except instead of redistributing aura between limbs, he redistributed the conceptual direction of motion itself.
Uvogin stared.
Nobunaga blinked.
They understood combat instincts. They understood power. But conceptual manipulation like this was closer to the category of Specialization, like Neon Nostrade's Lovely Ghostwriter or Chrollo's Skill Hunter, than simple Enhancement.
Rimo smiled lightly. He had no intention of hiding it.
He wasn't worried about leaking his ability.
First, the people present were the core members who had survived countless life-and-death situations together since Yorknew's mafia purge. Machi had stitched Uvogin's bones with Nen threads without hesitation. Nobunaga had charged Kurapika alone for Uvogin's sake. These were not the type to casually betray.
Second—
Even if it leaked, so what?
Unlimited Technique was merely one layer.
If someone someday truly discovered a way to break through the spatial subdivision field and reached his body—
They would then realize something terrifying.
The "monster" behind the wall was worse than the wall itself.
Rimo's base aura output, physical conditioning, and mastery over Ko and Ken had already surpassed ordinary Enhancers. The restriction he placed—remaining stationary at activation—greatly amplified the defensive density. But remove that condition, and he still retained overwhelming offensive power.
So yes. He explained it generously.
Uvogin and Nobunaga, however, looked constipated.
As Enhancers at heart, their ideal fight was simple.
Punch meets punch.
Blade meets bone.
Even if Rimo knocked them unconscious in one blow like Uvogin did to the Shadow Beasts, they would have laughed.
But this?
This felt like swinging at air.
It wasn't defeat. It was suffocation.
Yet if Rimo didn't use his ability, what was the point of testing it?
Their long-awaited excitement was instantly extinguished like candles in a storm.
Behind them, Machi finally let out a soft laugh.
Seeing the spar clearly over, she stepped forward.
"Rimo," she said calmly, "Chrollo came by while you were in seclusion."
The name made the air shift slightly.
Chrollo Lucilfer.
A faint gleam flashed across Rimo's eyes.
So… the spider was tightening its web.
"He said he wanted to meet you," Machi continued.
"Did you answer?"
"I didn't agree," she replied. "But I didn't refuse either."
Meaning the decision was his.
Uvogin and Nobunaga immediately stopped sulking and moved closer. Neither spoke. But both were watching him carefully.
Join the Phantom Troupe—or not?
Ever since he first encountered Machi in Yorknew's underground network, this question had occasionally surfaced in his mind. But developing his Nen, refining restrictions, and constructing Unlimited Technique had always taken priority.
Now Chrollo had personally extended a thread.
There would be no postponing it.
As an adult, Rimo's first criterion was always interest.
What were the benefits?
His thoughts drifted.
First—talent.
Specifically, several members whose abilities or qualities had strategic value.
Pakunoda.
Shizuku.
And…
Shalnark.
Pakunoda's Memory Bomb and psychometric reading were terrifyingly versatile. She could extract memories by touch and convert them into bullets, transmitting raw experience into another mind.
If combined with Rimo's Complete Mimicry, the infiltration potential was absurd.
V5 officials.
Kakin royalty.
Mafia heads.
Perfect replacement was no longer fantasy—it was logistics.
Then there was Shizuku.
Nen was deeply idealistic. Wing had said as much during Gon and Killua's training. The more rigid your worldview, the more self-imposed limits you placed.
Shizuku's vacuum, Blinky, functioned on a simple rule: anything she considered "non-living" could be sucked in.
Because her understanding of the world was strangely innocent, her ability occasionally bypassed conventional limitations.
Rimo, once a psychiatrist in his previous life, understood cognitive framing better than most.
He could not override established core beliefs—he couldn't convince her humans were non-living.
But context?
Context was malleable.
Beyond the known continents lay the Dark Continent, birthplace of calamities far stranger than Chimera Ants.
If certain entities could be framed within her understanding as non-living disasters—
The implications were frightening.
Even if only partially feasible, the strategic depth was enormous.
Finally—
Shalnark.
Interestingly, what Rimo valued most wasn't Shalnark's Autopilot mode or antenna control.
It was his brain.
Shalnark possessed high intelligence, technical expertise, data analysis skill, and calm objectivity. Within the Troupe, aside from Chrollo, he was the only one capable of structured strategic planning.
Uvogin and Nobunaga were frontline forces.
Machi relied heavily on intuition.
Intuition was powerful in crisis—but a team could not run on instinct alone.
Rimo was intelligent, yes. He also retained knowledge of many future trajectories.
But knowledge could become a cage.
From the moment he entered this world, events had begun diverging subtly. The butterfly effect was real. His interference had already shifted minor outcomes. Over time, those ripples would become storms.
He could not observe every variable.
He needed a capable external analyst.
A bystander who could see angles he might miss.
That was why Shalnark mattered.
Rimo exhaled slowly.
Joining the Phantom Troupe meant stepping into direct opposition with the Hunter Association, the mafia remnants, and potentially individuals like Hisoka.
Not joining meant forfeiting access to rare talents and intelligence networks.
Behind him, Uvogin cracked his knuckles.
"So?" he asked.
Machi's eyes remained steady.
Nobunaga adjusted his grip on his sword.
Rimo's lips curved faintly.
The spider had extended an invitation.
Now he had to decide whether to step willingly into the web—
Or become the thing that rewrote its pattern.