Want to read ahead? Join my Patreon for just $7 to get early access to all upcoming chapters!
> Patreon.com/NegativeTranslations
─────
Chapter 147: Hello, Amaterasu!
With the plan finalized, Kurapika briefly disguised himself before taking Shizuku and leaving the hotel. Ronin simply left a Shadow Clone with them for protection.
Kurapika's task was to contact the game's players and unite them against the Phantom Troupe.
This was incredibly simple. He didn't even need to spearhead the movement—someone else was already doing it. All he had to do was volunteer to personally stall the Troupe members, creating the perfect opening for the ambushers to strike with their spell cards.
The crux of the entire operation rested on whether or not they could actually kill the Troupe members.
If Ronin hadn't intervened, the likely outcome of this crusade would have just taught the Troupe that the players were united—meaning they couldn't slaughter them all at once, but they could easily pick off isolated stragglers one by one.
Judging from the attitude of the gathered mob, it was clear that the vast majority still hadn't grasped the true, lethal threat the Troupe posed. Some naively hoped that since the trio hadn't been hired by Battera, they wouldn't linger in the game for long.
But who could guarantee that?
Murder and plunder were the fastest ways for the trio to accumulate Designated Slot cards. Their overwhelming strength allowed them to use their lives as leverage, turning the players into nothing more than tools for their card collection.
In the end, everyone who had crossed paths with the Troupe became the first wave of vanguard troops.
Because Kurapika refused to waste any time, he openly offered to draw the trio's attention, which swiftly finalized the sequence of the ambush.
Unsurprisingly, the number of people willing to actively participate was fewer than Kurapika had expected. He didn't mind, though. Once the first wave of attackers successfully reaped the rewards from the Troupe's pockets, those waiting on the sidelines would inevitably jump in.
Greed was always the greatest bait. The only absolute requirement for the entire operation was speed.
From the moment Kurapika joined the assembly to the initiation of the ambush, Ronin had only taken a single nap at the hotel. In roughly three hours, everything was set in stone.
All Ronin had to do was appear at the entrance of the Spell Card Shop the moment Kurapika gave the signal and cast [Shift] directly on Bonolenov.
The destination for [Shift] was Antokiba. Players were already lying in ambush there. The second Bonolenov materialized from the teleportation aura, they would launch a synchronized strike, stripping him of every single spell card in his binder.
Designated Slot cards were the absolute grand prizes in this heist.
Aside from Ronin, the rest of the team had also received their specific assignments from Kurapika and were actively moving into position. Thanks to Ronin and Neon's early preparations, Kurapika and the others also had several usable spell cards in their Free Slots, heavily prioritizing teleportation-type cards.
Ronin approached the Spell Card Shop alone.
Ever since Feitan's group had seized the shop, the streets had grown eerily desolate. Even the occasional city guard would deliberately take a detour to avoid it. Clearly, the Troupe's violent playstyle was technically recognized by the game's mechanics.
Honestly, Ronin always felt that Greed Island's players were far too conservative. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that dying in the game meant dying in reality! This wasn't some virtual reality simulation; the consequences were flesh and blood.
While that realism was great in theory, it drastically limited the room for error, crippling the game's overall playability. That was likely why so many players, upon realizing they couldn't leave and couldn't clear the game, simply gave up and chose to live out their days settling down in the game.
Ronin didn't enter the shop. Instead, he took a seat in the store directly across the street. He couldn't see the interior of the Spell Card Shop from here, but conversely, the people inside couldn't see him either.
He waited patiently.
Inside the shop, the trio finally managed to gather all the necessary spell cards after rolling an excellent result on their dice.
Exchanging for [Breath of Archangel] was simple. Once forty unique spell cards were placed in Bonolenov's Free Slots, the cards collectively emitted a brilliant white light, and a prompt box forcefully popped up in front of him.
As soon as he hit confirm, the forty spell cards would materialize into [Breath of Archangel] in his hands.
Bonolenov nodded to Feitan and Phinks before pressing confirm.
A blinding white light flooded the shop as the projection of an Archangel manifested, gently exhaling a breath over Bonolenov.
As the breath washed over him, pristine new skin rapidly began to grow over his bandaged, skinless body.
The process was fast, but it didn't escape Ronin's watchful eyes. Right as the Archangel appeared, Ronin received a [Contact] notification from Kurapika. Judging by the timing, Kurapika was already in position nearby.
Ronin stood up. His aura was already honed to its absolute peak.
He had no intention of just casually using [Shift] to send someone away. Before he shipped Bonolenov off, he was going to hand-deliver a massive parting gift! After all, according to the plan, Bonolenov wasn't even their primary target right now.
The moment the shop door was pushed open, all three members whipped their heads toward the entrance. No one had dared to walk through those doors for days, not even the NPCs.
For someone to have the sheer audacity to barge in right as the Archangel was healing Bonolenov—were they tired of living?
But the moment they recognized the face of the intruder, both Feitan and Phinks felt their pupils constrict violently.
Ronin!
They were far too familiar with that face. After all, the few times the Phantom Troupe had truly suffered a devastating loss, it had been by his hands. He had consecutively slaughtered Uvogin, Omokage, and Isrli!
Phinks made the most logical choice—the exact advice Shalnark had given them if they ever crossed paths with Ronin again.
The sheer, suffocating threat radiating off Ronin triggered Phinks's instincts, and he instantly pulled a card from his binder.
It was [Leave].
Exiting the game immediately would render whatever trap Ronin had set completely useless.
But Feitan didn't share his mindset. Neither did Bonolenov, who had just fully recovered under the effects of [Breath of Archangel].
Feitan vanished from his spot, the thin rapier concealed within his umbrella already drawn.
Meanwhile, the bandages sloughed off Bonolenov's body, revealing his smooth, pale new skin. With his movements, the hollow piercings across his body began whistling with an aggressively pitched battle cry. His conjured combat gear rapidly materialized, alongside a massive double-headed war spear!
But the only thing greeting Bonolenov was a pair of blood-red, swirling Mangekyou Sharingan.
"AMATERASU!"
─────
Support this fanfict by leaving Positive Review, Comments, and Power Stones.
For Advance Chapters:
> Patreon.com/NegativeTranslations
