After Uvogin was captured and imprisoned, Kurapika arrived at the abandoned park designated by Hisoka.
What he hadn't expected—was to see Hyūga Akira already there.
"Yo," Akira greeted him casually, tossing a data device over.
"Everything you want to know about the Phantom Troupe is in there."
Kurapika looked down at the screen.
It contained basic intel on every Troupe member—their identities, headcount, and partial information on their Nen abilities.
One name, however, was marked in red.
Shalnark — Deceased.
"This man…" Kurapika's voice tightened.
"I killed him not long ago," Akira said with a shrug.
"So fast," Hisoka murmured, smiling in that unsettling, expectant way of his.
Akira sat casually on the railing, legs swinging as he spoke to them both.
"Shalnark was basically the Troupe's brain. Intelligence gathering, analysis, planning—he was critical. With him dead, they've lost their information advantage."
"And once that happens," Akira continued calmly,
"their hatred naturally shifts toward the Mafia."
"The Mafia can't defeat the Phantom Troupe—but they can create opportunities."
Akira turned his gaze to Kurapika.
"So. When do you hand Uvogin over to me?"
Kurapika frowned.
"Uvogin is currently in Nostrade custody. I don't have the authority to just give him away."
He wasn't refusing out of sentiment—he was just an employee. Demanding prisoners from his employer wasn't an option.
"And besides… we haven't been able to extract anything from him anyway."
"That's fine," Akira replied lightly.
"Just don't stop me."
"What are you planning to do?"
"Go in," Akira said flatly. "Kill him."
He spoke as if discussing the weather, completely ignoring the fact that he was currently a wanted man.
Kurapika nodded slowly.
"…Fine."
"As long as you're capable of it."
Hisoka leaned forward, interest clear in his eyes.
"So who's next?"
Akira pulled out a wanted poster, revealing the weary-looking face printed on it.
"Nobunaga."
Hisoka's smile widened.
"That one's a frontline fighter."
"I wouldn't move without preparation," Akira said calmly, then glanced at Kurapika.
"Kurapika, you're the bait. You don't need to appear personally—just draw their attention."
"And you," he turned to Hisoka, "track the Troupe's movements."
"I'll handle the harvesting."
His plan relied on Gon and Killua.
With Shalnark gone, the Troupe no longer had reliable intel. Kurapika alone was enough to attract them.
Akira was confident that Gon and Killua being taken to the Troupe's base would still happen.
When the Troupe launched their second operation, Nobunaga would almost certainly stay behind to guard the kids.
That would be Akira's opening.
As for locating the Troupe's temporary base—
With Hisoka around, that was trivial.
Hisoka raised an eyebrow.
"That makes me a bit too exposed."
If his identity was compromised, the entire Troupe would turn on him at once.
Battle was art—but being swarmed was just suicide.
"Relax," Akira said, smiling. "They won't suspect you."
He had already arranged the excuse.
Far away, in the Troupe's hideout.
"The Spider will target your treasure on September 1st."
"Your rage will sever one of the Spider's legs."
"Beware—the Spider will—"
The prophecy abruptly ended.
Chrollo stared at the torn page.
"A prophecy…"
On the wall behind him, a man was pinned in place. Two pale, ghostly fish swam through the air, gnawing at his flesh.
"Where did this poem come from?" Chrollo asked quietly.
"And where is the rest?"
Trembling, the man replied,
"It was taken from a wanted criminal—Hyūga Akira. That's all I know. When it reached me, it was already incomplete."
"Hyūga Akira…" Chrollo frowned.
He opened a window.
As the wind poured in, the white fish dissolved into motes of light. The man collapsed, blood erupting from his wounds—dead.
"So that's how our information leaked," Chrollo murmured.
Akira was helping the Mafia—yet the poem itself looked stolen.
Everything appeared logical.
They attacked the auction.
The Mafia retaliated.
They lost a member.
Yet—
Something was wrong.
Something unseen was guiding events.
"What am I missing…?"
Back at the Nostrade estate.
Dalzollene led several Mafia members into the holding area where Uvogin was restrained.
"Needles couldn't pierce his skin," Dalzollene reported.
"So we used gas to knock him out."
Uvogin glanced at the unfamiliar man behind him.
"And who the hell are you supposed to be?"
This "Mafia member" was Akira, disguised with Transformation Jutsu.
Meanwhile, the Akira who had met Kurapika and Hisoka earlier—that had been a Shadow Clone.
"Who I work for doesn't matter," Akira said with a soft laugh.
"Just know that I'm here to kill you."
Dalzollene hesitated.
"No interrogation?"
"What did you get out of him?" Akira shot back.
Dalzollene smiled awkwardly. They'd learned nothing.
"Our methods aren't much different," Akira continued.
"If you couldn't get answers, neither will I. So killing him is the logical choice."
A black blade materialized in his hand—the Dark War Blade.
"And we've already placed bounties on the Phantom Troupe. It's only a matter of time before the rest are caught."
Dalzollene nodded eagerly.
"Right. They won't be causing trouble much longer."
Akira turned to Uvogin.
"Any last words?"
Uvogin closed his eyes.
Dalzollene tried to warn him.
"His body is—"
The sentence never finished.
Uvogin's head rolled across the floor.
[Experience Gained: 12363]
[Skill Acquired: Super Destruction Punch]
[Talent Acquired: Monstrous Strength]
[Consumable: Enhancer +1]
"Second one," Akira said, baring his teeth in a grin.
Dalzollene shivered.
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