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Battera was pushing sixty-five, but the women he chased were barely twenty.
Everyone assumed the girl on his arm was his granddaughter. Battera didn't care what they thought. She was his real love—liked him for who he was, not the money or the age.
A car wreck changed everything. She ended up in a coma, a vegetable.
He flew in the best doctors money could buy. All they could promise was keeping her stable. No waking up. No getting better.
Then he heard about two legendary "spells" inside Greed Island.
Angel's Breath—healing that could fix anything.
Witch's Youth Potion—something that could roll back the years.
He'd sell his soul to get them. So he bought twenty-two full game consoles and dropped hundreds of people inside, chasing the reward.
Years passed. Nothing. Not one team had cleared the damn game.
He raised the bounty to thirty billion Jenny. Still got nothing but losers and amateurs.
Today was the same story. Another applicant showed up at his castle looking for a shot.
Battera barely bothered meeting most of them. His head of security, Sabaz, handled the first cut. When Sabaz actually called him in, it meant the candidate had real teeth.
Kurapika had already tracked Battera's castle back in Yorknew. The second they left Gramglaslan, the whole crew headed straight there.
Sabaz and his armed goons tried the usual intimidation routine the moment the five of them stepped inside.
It flopped hard. Ronin's group didn't flinch. Even Abachi, the new girl, looked like she could handle herself. After one quick test, Sabaz picked up the phone and called the boss.
Sabaz liked his easy life. The castle was full of expensive shit, but nobody with half a brain tried robbing it. Most days he just sat around. Screening applicants was light work—he just had to spot the ones who weren't complete jokes. Battera couldn't tell real power from cosplay anyway.
Ronin clocked Sabaz the second he saw him. The guy had some skill—maybe a step above the fresh meat hitting Heaven's Arena's 200th floor. Nothing that would keep him up at night.
When Battera finally showed, another Nen user walked beside him for protection. Not anyone Ronin recognized. Looked like Jeet still hadn't taken the job.
Kurapika ran the whole negotiation. Ronin let him. Battera seemed impressed once Sabaz gave the thumbs-up. He liked what he saw.
Problem was, he'd already burned through most of his consoles. Five fresh slots weren't happening.
"Bad timing," Battera said, sounding almost sorry. "If we still had the console that got stolen at that Yorknew auction, I could've fit all of you in. Right now I've only got two open spots. Three of you would have to wait."
Ronin spoke up for the first time. "If a player dies inside the game, or gets kicked out, does that free a slot?"
The room went still. Everyone heard the unspoken part—Ronin wasn't talking about gentle persuasion.
Battera tensed, then answered anyway. "Yes."
Ronin kept his voice calm. "I'm not saying we murder them. I'm saying we find a way to pull players out safely so we can swap our people in."
Battera nodded slowly. He could work with that.
Ronin had no plans to start killing random players. Even if that bomb maniac was already planting traps inside, that wasn't his fight. As long as the guy stayed out of his way, Ronin would leave him alone.
His idea was simple—get inside, figure out how to eject people, then coordinate from both sides until they had enough slots.
"I'll take Neon in first," Ronin said.
Kurapika agreed without hesitation. Shizuku was the next strongest after Ronin. She and Kurapika could hold the fort outside. Kurapika's brain would handle the rest.
Battera liked Ronin's quick decision. Truth was, he preferred the idea of kicking players out over straight-up murder inside the game. Cleaner. Less messy. He kept that opinion to himself.
From the way they talked, Battera could tell their real goal wasn't clearing the game or chasing the thirty-billion payout. They had something else in mind.
They had power. They had purpose. His security couldn't guarantee his life one hundred percent. So he wasn't about to say no and find out what happened next.
Battera was a survivor. He hadn't built this empire by being stupid.
As they left the room, he was already thinking. Maybe it was time to take his friend's advice and reach out to that professional Hunter, Jeet.
Offer the guy enough money—bump it to fifty billion—and maybe he could lock down both real security and an actual shot at beating Greed Island.