Meteor City.
North District, Block 13.
Inside a crumbling two-story house built from scrap metal and discarded concrete slabs.
On the staircase sat a handsome black-haired boy, a book resting loosely in his hand. The faint moonlight coming through the cracked window illuminated the cross-shaped mark on his forehead.
Chrollo Lucilfer lowered the book slightly and glanced outside.
"Still didn't come today…"
His tone was calm, almost indifferent, but the fact that he had remained here for three days straight already proved the importance of the matter.
Downstairs, a short, pale man with navy blue hair clicked his tongue irritably.
"Hey, Chrollo," he said coldly. "That guy called Rimo… is he really worth all of us sitting in this rotten place waiting?"
His golden, narrow eyes gleamed with restrained killing intent.
Feitan had never been patient. Whether torturing enemies or hunting prey, he preferred immediate action.
Three days.
No missions.
No theft.
No movement.
Just waiting.
"I admit Uvogin and Nobunaga aren't weak," Feitan continued sharply. "If they acknowledge him as their leader, he shouldn't be trash. But is he really worth this?"
Chrollo closed the book fully and stood.
Though two years younger than Feitan, he was noticeably taller once upright. His presence changed the moment he moved—calm, controlled, with a quiet gravity that naturally drew attention.
He descended the stairs step by step.
"Feitan," Chrollo said gently, "Rimo's strength is not in question."
"When I contacted Uvogin and the others recently, their aura control had clearly improved. Their Ten is stable. Their Ren is structured. That isn't natural growth."
Feitan's eyes narrowed.
Chrollo continued.
"You also received reports. Uvogin's activity range expanded. Their movements became organized instead of impulsive. All of that happened after Rimo joined them."
That was the key.
Uvogin, who once relied purely on brute force like during his massacre of the Shadow Beasts in Yorknew, now showed disciplined aura flow.
Nobunaga's blade control had sharpened.
Machi's thread precision had increased.
This wasn't coincidence.
"There is no doubt," Chrollo concluded softly, "Rimo possesses an ability our group needs."
It was difficult to associate such composure with a thirteen-year-old boy.
Yet as he reached the final step, the quiet authority surrounding him was unmistakable. It was the same presence that had persuaded them to dream of forming a thirteen-legged Spider in a place like Meteor City.
Inside the room were only three others tonight:
Franklin.
Pakunoda.
Feitan.
Chrollo looked at them calmly.
"If you don't want to wait, you can return to the base. I'll remain here. We'll regroup later."
Feitan glanced sideways at Pakunoda and Franklin.
Pakunoda leaned silently against the wall, arms folded, expression thoughtful. Franklin stood unmoving, massive frame steady like a wall.
Neither reacted.
Feitan clicked his tongue again.
"Fine," he muttered. "Then I'll see for myself what kind of man he is."
He wasn't blind to logic.
Rimo was already a Nen user.
More importantly, he had seemingly helped Uvogin and the others refine their aura in a short period of time. That alone was extraordinary. Even Chrollo had only recently learned Nen himself after negotiating with the Meteor City Elders.
And if Rimo's ability could produce such changes—
It was undoubtedly valuable to a team.
Recruiting him meant indirectly acquiring Uvogin, Nobunaga, and Machi as well.
From a strategic standpoint, it was the best deal available in Meteor City.
Feitan understood this.
He simply disliked waiting.
Seeing no further objections, Chrollo pushed the door open and stepped outside.
The night air of Meteor City was cold and dry. Trash mountains loomed like dark silhouettes under the moon.
Chrollo looked up at the crescent moon.
He hadn't expected that after only a few months of negotiating with the Elders for permission to study Nen and eventually leave Meteor City, variables would appear.
Originally, Machi and the others had been prime candidates.
He had already approached them once.
He promised a path outward.
Permission.
Freedom beyond the landfill.
Machi had hesitated—but Chrollo had seen the yearning in her eyes.
Learn Nen.
Gain strength.
Leave this place.
That had been the plan.
Then Rimo appeared.
A name Chrollo had never heard before.
When he returned after completing his initial Nen training and gathered information, he found Uvogin and the others already transformed.
His first instinct had been simple.
Remove the obstacle.
That was the Spider's creed.
We steal whatever we desire.
We eliminate whoever stands in our way.
Just as they would one day slaughter the Kurta Clan for the Scarlet Eyes without hesitation.
But that thought vanished the moment Chrollo met Uvogin again.
He could feel it clearly.
Beneath Uvogin's explosive aura was something structured. Controlled.
Disciplined.
Nobunaga's killing intent was sharper.
Machi's threads carried deeper precision.
They were no longer rough stones.
They had been polished.
And the one who polished them—
Had to be far stronger.
Chrollo was not foolish.
He had only recently opened his aura nodes. Compared to Uvogin's natural Enhancement and Machi's instinctive talent, he was still a newcomer.
If even they had grown this much—
How strong was Rimo?
Forceful seizure was no longer realistic.
So the options were reduced to two.
Give up.
Or recruit.
Giving up was unacceptable.
Chrollo had envisioned thirteen members from the start. Thirteen legs of a Spider. But even within Meteor City's massive population, truly exceptional individuals were rare.
Abandoning three at once?
He would not accept that.
So only recruitment remained.
Chrollo's nature was pragmatic.
In Yorknew, when stealing the underground auction goods, Uvogin declared they would simply kill everyone involved.
Chrollo went further—arranging the elimination of the Ten Dons through hired assassins.
Efficiency over pride.
Even the staged deaths using Kortopi's Gallery Fake later demonstrated this philosophy. Reputation meant nothing. Survival and gain meant everything.
Face?
Meaningless.
The underworld valued pride and dominance.
The Spider valued results.
If lowering his posture secured Rimo—
Then posture could be lowered.
Chrollo's eyes reflected the moonlight faintly.
He was a thief.
Not a king.
As long as the Spider grew stronger, personal pride was irrelevant.
"Let it proceed smoothly…"
His voice was soft, nearly lost to the wind.
Somewhere in Meteor City, another piece was moving.
And tomorrow—
The web might gain a new thread.