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Chapter Text

Kyra sat waiting in the underground tunnel, a book in her hand. She tucked some of her long, pale blonde hair behind her ear, her crimson eyes flickering between the lines of words. The dim yellow lights overhead buzzed faintly, casting wavering shadows on the damp concrete walls.

“Hey.”

A voice broke the silence, casual but sharp enough to slice through her concentration. Her eyes flicked up, landing on a man—a clown of a man, complete with a painted face. A blue teardrop adorned one cheek, a pink star on the other. He looked about her age, though his piercing pale yellow eyes made him seem older somehow. Her gaze dropped briefly to the badge on his chest: number 44.

“I noticed you,” he said, his stare unrelenting.

He seemed familiar, though she couldn’t place him at first.

The man chuckled, apparently amused by her silence. “You were at the exam last year, weren’t you?”

Ah. That’s where she knew him from. His massacre certainly left an impression. But what was his name again?

“I’m impressed you escaped,” he continued, a twisted smile tugging at his lips. “Playing dead was wise. Most wouldn’t think of it, let alone pull it off. But don’t worry, I’m not here for a grudge match. Not yet, at least. Should we happen to fight, I welcome it. You’re strong, after all.”

Kyra’s expression remained calm, though her fingers curled slightly against the worn cover of her book.

“What do you want?” she asked aloud, her voice steady. If not a fight, why else would he approach her now?

“An alliance.” His smirk deepened. “I think my colleague and I could benefit from a third. And you, well... I think you’d benefit from staying on my good side.”

Ah, there it was. Kyra considered the offer. Hisoka—yes, that was his name—was someone she’d rather not make an enemy of. An alliance might serve her well, but this mysterious “colleague” of his was an unknown factor.

Besides that Hisoka himself was a double-edged sword, his unpredictable nature made him just as dangerous to his allies as to his enemies, yet rejecting him outright could be just as perilous. For now, she would play along.

“I suppose,” she said at last, her tone measured. “As long as I gain something from it, I don’t see why not. I’ll join you.”

“Excellent!” Hisoka clapped his hands together and rose in one fluid motion. “Come meet my colleague.”

He strode off without waiting for her reply, and Kyra stood to follow. She adjusted the strap of the bag slung over her left shoulder, ensuring her book was secure, and checked the position of her nodachi on her right.

Hisoka led her deeper into the tunnel, where the air grew colder and heavier. Finally, they stopped before a tall figure with sharp features and a body covered in pins. His badge read number 301.

Kyra’s eyes narrowed slightly. The pins weren’t just decorative; they radiated Nen. Whoever this man truly was, his appearance was nothing but a facade. He was using Nen to disguise himself—an impressive technique, she supposed.

“Gittaruk, I found us an accomplice,” Hisoka said with a dramatic flourish, gesturing toward her.

“Hello,” Kyra greeted simply, nodding once.

The man, Gittaruk, looked her over, his gaze sharp and calculating. “I don’t see why her, Hisoka,” he said bluntly. “She doesn’t seem all that strong.”

Kyra didn’t flinch at the remark. With her tall, lean frame, she knew she didn’t look particularly threatening. That was exactly how she liked it.

“On the contrary, my friend,” Hisoka replied with a chuckle. “She managed to hide from me during last year’s exam. Even after I was certain I’d killed her.”

“Oh?” Gittaruk’s tone turned skeptical. “She escaped you ? I suppose that’s something. Then again, you do get sloppy when you’re... excited.”

Hisoka laughed, crossing his arms. “Fair point. But still—don’t underestimate her. She’s resourceful.”

Gittaruk turned his attention back to Kyra. “Well? Anything to say for yourself?”

Kyra met his gaze evenly, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “I’ll just say this much: I know you’re wearing a disguise.”

Her words hung in the air, the weight of her implication undeniable. She didn’t elaborate further; there was no need. Sensing Nen required the ability to use it, and that was all she cared to reveal for now.

Gittaruk’s expression tightened ever so slightly, his eyes narrowing. He glanced at Hisoka, who was watching the exchange with obvious amusement.

“I suppose I’ll see for myself whether you’re useful,” Gittaruk said at last, his tone grudging.

“Excellent!” Hisoka clapped his hands again, his grin widening. “We’ll move independently for now—I’m certain neither of you will have trouble staying in the game.” He handed each of them a small radio. “Keep in touch~” he sang before sauntering off into the shadows.

Kyra tucked the radio into her bag and gave Gittaruk another curt nod before turning away. She retraced her steps back to her old spot, her mind already calculating her next move.

Chapter Text

A few more hours passed, until a strange alarm went off, the tunnel wall lifted to reveal a man in a suit, he had lavender hair and a curled mustache.

“I apologize for the wait, the entry period for Hunter applicants has ended. The Hunter Exam will now begin! A final caution, if you are short on luck or ability you could very well end up seriously injured or even dead. Those who accept the risks, please follow me. Otherwise please exit via the elevator behind you” the examiner said.

No one moved, everyone here had already come this far.

“Very well, all 404 applicants will participate in Phase One” the examiner said, and began leading the way, slowly picking up the pace as the examinees followed.

“I neglected to introduce myself, I am Satotz, the Phase One examiner. I shall lead you to the exam’s Second Phase” the examiner said.

“Second Phase? What about Phase One?” Someone asked.

“It has already commenced,” the examiner said.

“You must follow me to Phase Two. This is the exam’s First Phase” the examiner said.

“Follow you? That’s it?” the same person asked.

“Yes, I cannot tell you where or when you arrive, you just need to follow me.” the examiner said.

So a test of endurance eh? Simple enough. Kyra supposed, perhaps too simple, then again they were to run in this dark tunnel for who knows how long and they wouldn’t know if Satotz would decide to pick up the pace.

Although even if the examiner continued at this pace Kyra guessed that many examinees would be falling behind before long.

~

Kyra estimated about two hours had passed since the start of the exam, just a little over thirty kilometers from the start, truly a marathon.

She had watched with dispassionate eyes as more and more examinees fell by the wayside, to already have traveled so far with no end in sight it pressed on the body as well as the mind.

Just as she predicted, many examinees were already falling behind. The rhythmic sound of their footsteps began to thin, the once-steady echo of hundreds of shoes on concrete now punctuated by labored breaths and stumbling feet.

It was pathetic, really. These people thought they had what it took to become Hunters, yet they couldn’t even keep up with a simple endurance test. Kyra shook her head faintly, a flicker of amusement tugging at her lips. Did they expect the world of Hunters to be kind to the weak?

One man stumbled ahead of her, his face slick with sweat, his legs trembling with each step. “Damn it... how much farther do we have to go?” he muttered, his voice cracking. He glanced over his shoulder at the thinning group behind him, as if hoping for some unspoken validation.

Kyra spared the stranger a pitying glance as she pulled ahead where he fell behind, even in the middle of the pack people were dropping out one by one.

The tunnel air was heavy with the sour stench of sweat, the oppressive darkness pressing down on the remaining examinees. But Kyra barely noticed. Her breathing was controlled, her steps efficient. Her lean frame made long-distance endurance her strength, and she’d spent years honing her stamina. She was built for this.

As she ran, her crimson eyes flicked toward the front of the group, where Satotz’s lavender hair bobbed faintly in the dim light. His pace remained maddeningly consistent—not fast enough to be truly punishing, but relentless all the same. That was the trap, Kyra realized. It wasn’t about speed—it was about breaking their spirits.

Simple, she thought, her lips curling into a faint smirk. Perhaps too simple. But then again, the truly weak won’t need more than this to weed them out.

Behind her, the sounds of the stragglers grew fainter, the tunnel swallowing their presence.

Pathetic, she thought again, her gaze fixed ahead.

~

Four hours in and sixty kilometers down, the pack had thinned significantly. The once-crowded tunnel now echoed with far fewer footsteps, and Kyra found herself running alongside Hisoka and Gittaruk.

Her crimson eyes flicked toward the pin-covered man. He oozed danger, but that didn’t stop Kyra from wanting to flex a little. The endurance test had been almost laughably easy for her so far, and she couldn’t resist the temptation to show just how unbothered she was.

Without breaking her stride, Kyra reached into her bag and retrieved a hair tie, deftly gathering her pale blonde locks into a messy bun as if the sixty kilometers behind them had been nothing more than a light warm-up.

“Hmph,” Gittaruk huffed, his sharp eyes catching the subtle display. “Trying to impress? A foolish effort if that is your best trick,” he said, his voice clipped.

Kyra smirked at the jab, tossing him a teasing sideways glance. “Maybe a little,” she said smoothly, her voice lilting with mock innocence. “But I’m just getting started. Later, boys~.”

With that, she picked up her pace, breaking away from them while staying comfortably in the middle of the remaining examinees. Her blonde hair, now swept up, bobbed with each stride, a subtle taunt in itself.

Hisoka chuckled low, his smirk as sharp as ever. “I told you so~,” he sing-songed, his golden eyes flicking toward Gittaruk. “She’s more than she appears. You should really learn to listen, my dear accomplice.”

Gittaruk watched her pull ahead, his brows furrowing. There was something about her—a presence that irritated him as much as it intrigued him. She didn’t just run; she challenged. It wasn’t in her words or even her actions, but in the way she carried herself, as though she knew she belonged ahead, as though she were daring him to prove otherwise.

Hisoka’s laughter snapped Gittaruk out of his thoughts, the clown clearly savoring the exchange. Gittaruk scowled but couldn’t tear his gaze from Kyra’s retreating figure.

A challenge, huh? His fingers brushed against the needles at his side, a flicker of determination sparking in his chest. Fine. Let’s see how far you get, little girl.

He quickened his pace slightly, though not enough to catch her. Not yet. The game had just begun.

Chapter Text

Around the eighty-kilometer mark, Satotz picked up the pace as the group began ascending stairs. Each step seemed designed to test their resolve, the monotony and strain pressing harder with every climb.

As annoying as it was, Kyra had yet to break her stride or even catch her breath. The tingle of sweat on her back was her only concession to the growing exertion, and she silently thanked herself for tying her hair up earlier.

She chanced a glance behind her. Hisoka and Gittaruk weren’t too far behind—unsurprising, really—but what caught her attention was how Gittaruk had pulled slightly ahead, his eyes sharp and locked on her.

A smirk played on her lips. Alright, then. Flicking her hair in a taunting gesture, Kyra picked up her pace just as a distant light pierced through the oppressive darkness of the tunnel. The end was near.

Gittaruk, unwilling to back down from her blatant challenge, surged forward, his steps pounding against the stone stairs. He was fast—faster than she expected—but no matter how hard he pushed, Kyra always managed to stay one step ahead.

The finish loomed closer, the light spilling brighter with each step. Finally, crossing the entrance first, Kyra emerged into the open air, her crimson eyes gleaming with smug victory. She hadn’t just won their unspoken race—she’d done it without so much as a hint of fatigue.

“You,” Gittaruk said as he caught up, his tone sharp and clipped. She turned to him, her red eyes blazing with triumphant amusement.

“I will win next time,” he declared, his voice low, a thin layer of frustration cracking his otherwise stoic demeanor.

Kyra tilted her head, her smirk widening. “You can try,” she teased, her voice smooth and taunting.

Behind them, Hisoka’s signature chuckle rang out as he arrived. “Having fun, Gittaruk?” he asked, his voice brimming with amusement, his grin as sharp as ever.

Gittaruk didn’t reply. Instead, he turned away, his expression as composed as ever, though the stiffness in his movements gave him away. His pride had taken a hit, and he wore the silence like a sulking child.

Kyra and Hisoka exchanged a glance, sharing a moment of unspoken understanding before breaking into laughter. Gittaruk’s shoulders tensed slightly, but he refused to look at them.

“Careful, Hisoka,” Kyra said, still grinning. “He might start sticking pins in you next.”

“Ah, I’d welcome the excitement,” Hisoka replied with a smirk, waving off the jab.

Gittaruk said nothing, but the subtle clench of his fists made Kyra’s victory taste all the sweeter.

~

The rest of the remaining examinees filed in from the tunnel, forming a loose gathering around the entrance as they waited for Satotz to speak.

As the fog began to lift, an expanse of wetlands stretched before them—vast, murky, and unwelcoming.

“The Numere Wetlands,” Satotz began, his calm voice carrying an undertone of warning, “also known as Swindlers Swamp. We must cross these wetlands to reach Phase Two of the exam. This place is home to many bizarre creatures—cunning, insatiable beings who thrive on deception and prey upon humans. Be very careful. If you let them fool you, you’re dead.”

A mechanical whir echoed behind them as the tunnel’s entrance groaned shut. The sound was final, sealing off any chance of retreat. A single straggler sprinted toward the entrance, desperation etched into his face, but it was too late. The heavy steel door closed with an ominous clang, leaving the man pounding uselessly against it.

“These wetland creatures,” Satotz continued without pause, “will use every trick in the book to fool their prey. This is an ecosystem where deceit is survival—hence the name, Swindlers Swamp. Stay very close to me if you wish to avoid falling victim to their tricks.”

Kyra’s gaze swept across the wetlands. Quicksand, hidden predators, fog rolling in to obscure everything—it was a nightmare for most, but for her, it was exhilarating. Her crimson eyes flicked to Gittaruk, who had yet to recover fully from their earlier race. She smirked.

Our race isn’t over yet.

This leg of the journey would be far more challenging. The muddy, treacherous ground was bad enough for traction, but the real danger lay in the wetlands’ notorious trickery. Gittaruk caught her glance, his eyes narrowing slightly. She didn’t need to say anything; the challenge was already understood.

“Don’t let them fool you!” a voice suddenly shouted, shattering the tense silence.

Kyra turned, her attention snapping to a battered-looking man skulking near the now-closed tunnel entrance. His clothes were torn, his face bruised, and his eyes wild with desperation.

“Don’t fall for it! He’s lying to you!” he screamed, pointing a shaking finger at Satotz.

Kyra didn’t need to hear any more. Her gut told her everything she needed to know. The man’s arrival, his timing, his words—it was too convenient. She smirked slightly. Classic misdirection.

The first rule of deception was to sow doubt in your target, and the panic spreading through some of the examinees proved the trick was working. Whispers broke out among the group, suspicion swirling like the encroaching fog.

The man dragged over a creature that looked remarkably similar to Satotz, explaining what it was and what its trick is, sowing further doubt.

“He’s right. What if Satotz is one of those creatures?” one man muttered.

“We don’t even know if he’s human!” another hissed.

But before the doubt could fully take root, six playing cards sliced through the air—three aimed at the imposter and three at Satotz.

The examiner caught the cards effortlessly, his hands moving with precise, almost casual ease. The imposter, however, wasn’t so lucky. Three cards embedded themselves into its chest with deadly accuracy, and it crumpled to the ground.

The crowd fell silent, every eye snapping toward the clown-like man responsible for the swift judgment. Hisoka stood there, his smirk sharp and wicked as he casually shuffled the remaining cards in his hands.

“Well,” he said, his voice cutting through the thick tension, “that settles it. You’re the real one.” He gestured lazily toward Satotz, completely unfazed by the stunned reactions around him.

Satotz raised an eyebrow, though his composure remained unbroken.

“Examiners are Hunters selected by the committee to perform this duty without pay,” Hisoka continued, his tone calm but confident. “Any Hunter bearing the title we seek would have been able to block that attack.” His reasoning was sound, and it effectively shattered the seed of doubt that had started to grow.

“I shall take that as a compliment,” Satotz replied smoothly, though his usual calm tone carried a slight edge. “However, should you attack me again for any reason, I will report you for turning on an examiner. You will be immediately disqualified. Are we clear?”

“Crystal,” Hisoka said with a grin, utterly unbothered by the warning.

The other examinees exchanged uneasy glances, the tension thick as they processed what had just unfolded. Kyra, however, smirked slightly. Classic Hisoka, she thought. Reckless, smug, and entirely too clever for his own good.

Satotz stepped forward, his calm demeanor unshaken. “You will be encountering such deception on a regular basis,” he said, his voice smooth but firm. “In fact, I believe many of you were already fooled into suspecting my identity.”

Kyra crossed her arms, unimpressed. Amateurs. She had grown up in a world of lies, where deceit was currency and survival meant seeing through the tricks before they could take root. This was nothing new.

“Do you understand now?” Satotz continued, his voice cutting through the fog of doubt. “If you lose sight of me in the Numere Wetlands, you will never reach the exam’s Second Phase. Do bear that in mind.”

“Let us be on our way,” Satotz said, turning back to the wetlands. “Please follow me closely.”

And so, the race continued. This time, staying close to the examiner wasn’t just part of the challenge—it was a matter of survival. The thick fog began to roll in again, shrouding the wetlands in an eerie haze, but Kyra kept her pace steady, her sharp eyes locked on Satotz’s silhouette.

Easy enough, she thought, though her smirk hinted at the thrill of the unknown dangers ahead.

~

“Pay attention now! Be sure to stay close behind me,” Satotz warned, his voice cutting sharply through the thickening fog as he strode confidently ahead.

Kyra quickened her pace, weaving her way toward the front of the pack but keeping a deliberate distance from the examiner. She made sure to keep his figure in her sights as the haze deepened around them. The wetlands were an eerie labyrinth now, their surroundings swallowed by mist.

She glanced over her shoulder, her crimson eyes flicking toward Gittaruk. Despite his calm, unbothered expression, she could see the strain in his movements—his attempts to match her pace were far more desperate than he let on. That smug façade of his was slipping ever so slightly.

However, something else caught her attention.

“Where’s Hisoka?” she asked, her tone sharp with curiosity.

Gittaruk gave a nonchalant shrug, though his eyes remained fixed on her, as if unwilling to fall behind even for a second. “He’s pulled back. I’m guessing he wants to play,” he replied.

Kyra blinked, genuinely surprised. She hadn’t expected the pinhead to answer.

“I see,” she murmured, more to herself than Gittaruk. Her gaze swept the fog behind them, a faint smirk playing on her lips as the realization dawned. “So we’ll just radio him the location of the finish line later, then.”

She had no doubt Hisoka would start another massacre. This environment was perfect for it—thick fog, limited visibility, and countless gullible targets ripe for the taking. Just a slight step back was all it would take to vanish into the mist and lay a trap for anyone careless enough to follow.

The thought tugged at her. It wasn’t a bad strategy—one she could easily execute herself if she wanted to. She could disappear, lure someone into an ambush, and come out on top with ease.

But no. Not yet.

Her attention shifted back to Gittaruk, whose eyes remained locked on her like a predator sizing up its prey. This game of cat and mouse between them was far more fun. For now, she’d enjoy playing catch-up with him.

Her smirk deepened as she surged ahead, leaving Gittaruk just a step behind in the fog.

Despite the fog and the lurking dangers of the swamp, Kyra managed to keep track of Satotz’s silhouette, her sharp senses attuned to every faint sound and movement around her. The wetlands were a labyrinth of traps and predators, each eager to ensnare the careless, but Kyra’s instincts and experience kept her steps sure and deliberate. She wasn’t about to fall for the tricks of the cunning beasts just beyond the veil of mist.

It seemed Gittaruk, or whoever he really was, had no such concerns. He was too focused on their little game, his attention fixed entirely on her as though the dangers of the swamp didn’t exist.

To Gittaruk, Kyra was like no one else he’d ever encountered. Always just a step ahead, her presence was maddeningly elusive yet undeniably magnetic. Those taunting smirks playing on her sweet lips were a challenge he couldn’t ignore, each one daring him to push harder, to move faster. Her lithe frame glided effortlessly through the swamp, but despite her lean figure, she held the unmistakable curves of a woman, each movement graceful yet commanding.

Nothing—and no one—had ever excited him like this.

The way she flicked her hair, the way her red eyes gleamed with smug victory every time she pulled ahead—it stoked a fire in him he hadn’t realized he was capable of feeling. She was thrilling and infuriating all at once, her very existence a challenge he had to meet.

He clenched his jaw and pushed himself harder, determined to close the distance between them, determined to show her that she couldn’t keep teasing him from just out of reach.

Ahead of him, Kyra smirked to herself, picking up her pace slightly to keep him chasing. It was exactly this kind of thrill that she lived for—the competition, the adrenaline, the push to outpace someone just as strong—or stronger—than herself.

This was why she was here. This was why she sought the title of Hunter: to uncover more moments like this, to seek the edge of her abilities and feel the rush of triumph.

Her eyes gleamed in the dim light as she surged ahead, the fog swallowing her figure momentarily before she reappeared, always one step in front of him.

And Gittaruk followed, his eyes burning with a mix of determination and something deeper, something far more dangerous.

~

As the finish line drew closer, Gittaruk pulled out his radio, his breath steady despite the relentless pace. “Hisoka,” he said tersely, his eyes locked on the elusive figure ahead of him. “We’re approaching the finish line.” He sent off their position from the tracker before shoving the radio back into his pocket.

With the message sent, his focus sharpened entirely on Kyra. That infuriatingly fast woman. She was still just ahead of him, her movements effortless, each stride perfectly calculated to keep him at bay.

Gittaruk gritted his teeth. He wasn’t going to let her win this time—not again. With a surge of energy, he pushed himself harder, his feet pounding against the uneven ground as he closed the distance between them.

But Kyra had already anticipated his move. She glanced over her shoulder, her red eyes flashing with smug delight as she flicked her hair teasingly. “Not so fast,” she murmured under her breath, and then, as if mocking him, she quickened her pace.

He cursed inwardly. No matter how hard he pushed, she always managed to stay one step ahead. Always just out of reach.

The finish line loomed ahead, the fog beginning to thin as sunlight broke through the dense canopy. Gittaruk poured everything into one last burst of speed, his gaze locked on Kyra’s back.

But it wasn’t enough.

With her signature smirk, Kyra crossed the finish line first, her breathing steady and her stride unbroken. Once again, she had beaten him, leaving him to trail behind like an afterthought.

Gittaruk slowed to a stop, his fists clenching at his sides as he glared at her. She turned to him, her red eyes blazing with triumph, and the smirk on her lips was infuriatingly irresistible.

“You just don’t learn, do you?” she teased, her voice light and airy, as if the race had been nothing more than a game to her.

Gittaruk’s jaw tightened, but he forced a calm expression. “Enjoy your moment. Next time, I’ll win,” he said, though the words tasted bitter on his tongue.

Kyra chuckled, brushing past him with a flick of her hair. “You can try,” she replied, her tone dripping with playful confidence.

Gittaruk watched her, his eyes smoldering with frustration—and something else he couldn’t quite place. How infuriating.

Chapter Text

“Excellent work, everyone. Phase Two of the exam will occur here in the Biska Forest Park, so I shall take my leave. Best of luck to all of you,” Satotz said with a formal bow before striding away.

The crowd’s attention shifted to the rumbling gates in front of them. With a groan of metal and a slow creak, the gates parted to reveal a grand mansion nestled within the dense forest beyond.

“Will all applicants who passed the First Phase please enter?” A sultry, confident voice cut through the murmurs. A woman with teal hair, dressed in revealing clothes that accentuated her toned frame, stepped forward, lounging nonchalantly on a plush couch. “Welcome. I’m Menchi, the examiner for the Second Phase.”

Behind her stood a large, rotund man in a yellow shirt, grinning broadly. “I’m Buhara, the co-examiner,” he said with a hearty laugh.

The tension that had begun to settle over the crowd was abruptly interrupted by a low, earth-shaking rumble. The noise sent a ripple of murmurs through the examinees as they glanced around.

“You must be hungry,” Menchi remarked, tilting her head toward Buhara.

“I’m starving, ” the large man whined dramatically, rubbing his belly for emphasis.

“There you have it,” Menchi said, rising gracefully to her feet. “Phase Two will involve cooking!”

The announcement sent a wave of confusion through the examinees.

“Cooking?!” someone exclaimed, disbelief etched across their face.

Kyra’s brow furrowed as the crowd erupted into complaints. Cooking? Of all things? She supposed the examiners had free rein to test them however they saw fit, but this? This was absurd.

“This is the Hunter Exam ! Why do we have to cook?!” another voice called out indignantly.

Menchi’s lips curled into a smirk. “Because,” she said with pride, “we are Gourmet Hunters.”

Her declaration was met with derisive laughter from the crowd.

“How hard could cooking be?” someone scoffed.

Kyra’s expression darkened at the sound of their mocking laughter. Her crimson eyes sharpened, her jaw clenching as her fists tightened at her sides. Cooking was hard— damn hard. She knew better than most how cruel food scarcity could be. The days of scavenging scraps, the sickening taste of spoiled leftovers—those memories gnawed at her as the privileged fools around her chuckled, oblivious to her simmering glare.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed Gittaruk studying her with quiet intensity, his eyes narrowing at her reaction.

“So, Gourmet Hunters, what are we supposed to make?” an examinee asked, breaking the tension.

Menchi snapped her fingers and gestured to her colleague. “Buhara, explain.”

The large man grinned, his booming voice commanding attention. “The required ingredient is pork. You’re free to hunt any species of Biska Forest pig. You must use the cooking facilities here to prepare the pork, and you only pass if we both find your dish delicious.”

“And keep in mind,” Menchi added sharply, “we will evaluate more than just taste. Cooking is art and technique. Don’t underestimate its intricacies—or us. Once we’ve both eaten our fill, the exam ends!”

“Then,” Menchi declared, her eyes glinting with challenge, “the Second Phase of the exam begins now!” Buhara slapped his massive belly, the sound echoing like a gong. 

The examinees exploded into motion, darting into the forest in a frenzied rush to hunt for pigs.

~

Kyra moved through the woods alone, her sharp eyes scanning the forest floor for pig tracks. She crouched near a patch of disturbed earth when a sudden rumbling reached her ears. The ground trembled beneath her boots, and she snapped her head up to see an entire community of pigs bursting out of the dense undergrowth, heading straight for her.

“Shit,” she muttered, leaping into the nearest tree with a quick and practiced motion just before the stampede could trample her. Perched on a sturdy branch, she watched as the pigs barreled past below, their large, muscular forms jostling for position.

Her crimson eyes narrowed as she studied them. They’re not just mindless brutes, she thought. Their large, prominent noses, clearly evolved for rooting through the forest floor, also doubled as shields for their heads. That meant their weak spot was likely just behind that snout, protected but vulnerable.

Grinning to herself, Kyra clicked on her radio. “Hisoka, Gittaruk—found your pigs. Aim for just behind the snout. That big nose? It’s covering a weak spot on their heads.”

She didn’t wait for a response. Timing her jump, she dropped from the tree just as the last of the pigs passed beneath her. Landing lightly on her feet, she unsheathed her sword just enough to smack the side of the blade against one of the smaller pigs, putting her strength behind the blow.

The pig dropped instantly. Whether it was unconscious or dead didn’t matter. “Gotcha,” Kyra said, grabbing it by the legs and hoisting the surprisingly heavy carcass over her shoulder. With the prize in tow, she made her way back to the mansion.

The cooking stations were already abuzz with activity when she arrived. Kyra dropped the pig onto the first available counter with a dull thud and started prepping her station. She cast a sidelong glance at the other examinees, some of whom were hastily roasting whole pigs and rushing to present them to the judges.

It was clear Buhara would be easy to satisfy. The man devoured entire pigs, his enthusiasm evident in the gleeful way he tore into the meat. Menchi, on the other hand, was another story entirely. Kyra watched as she rejected dish after dish, often without so much as a taste.

“Figures,” Kyra muttered under her breath. The teal-haired examiner had an air of haughty confidence, her every movement oozing arrogance. She probably thought she was some kind of royalty, perched there on her metaphorical throne, doling out judgment with a flick of her wrist. Brat.

Kyra sighed, turning her attention back to her station. She couldn’t afford to waste time worrying about Menchi’s attitude. The judges hadn’t said the pig was the only ingredient they could use, and she wasn’t about to just throw some half-roasted meat onto a plate and call it a day.

She opened the bag she’d brought from the forest, pulling out a collection of local mushrooms and a handful of aromatic herbs she’d gathered along the way. Steak with mushroom sauce, she decided, her hands already moving with practiced efficiency. It wasn’t fancy, but it didn’t need to be. The key was in the execution, and Kyra was determined to impress.

As she worked, she stole another glance at the judges. Buhara continued to devour anything placed in front of him with a near-childlike enthusiasm. Menchi, meanwhile, crossed her legs and leaned back, her sharp gaze sweeping over the examinees.

Kyra smirked to herself, her confidence growing. Let’s see you reject this, Princess.

~

Kyra finished her dish with a final flourish, placing the steak topped with a rich mushroom sauce on the serving plate. She carefully carried it to the judges, presenting it proudly along with the leftovers, which she was sure Buhara would devour without hesitation.

Standing tall, Kyra watched as Menchi leaned over her dish, her sharp teal eyes scrutinizing every detail. The Gourmet Hunter examined it with a precision that bordered on obsessiveness. Kyra braced herself, knowing full well that steak was traditionally made with beef, not pork. Still, she hoped her haphazard but heartfelt skills would be enough to make even this picky brat take a bite.

Before Menchi could pass judgment, Buhara had already snatched a piece from the leftover plate. He bit into it with his usual enthusiasm, his eyes lighting up with delight.

“Delicious! You’ve got my pass!” he said with a broad grin, giving Kyra a thumbs-up as he reached for another piece.

Kyra let out a small breath of relief, but her attention was fixed on Menchi. The teal-haired woman finally picked up her fork and knife, cutting a precise piece from the steak. She placed it in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

Kyra’s sharp eyes caught the subtle widening of Menchi’s eyes and the slight lift of her brows—both signs of genuine surprise. Impressive, isn’t it? Kyra thought smugly.

But then Menchi’s expression hardened, and she set her fork down with a pointed clink. “Not good enough,” she said curtly, leaning back in her seat. “You don’t pass.”

Kyra felt a flicker of irritation but masked it with a polite smile. She picked up the leftover plate and gave Menchi a measured look. “If you don’t like it, I guess I’ll have the rest then,” she said, her tone light and casual.

Menchi’s eyes widened, and she reached out. “Wait! No, please—”

But Kyra had already turned and strode away, ignoring the judge’s sudden plea. She walked back to the group of examinees and slipped into the shadows, finding Gittaruk leaning against a tree, having already been judged and failed, arms crossed as he watched her approach.

“Care to share?” he asked, his tone casual, though Kyra caught the glimmer of something playful in his eyes.

Wordlessly, she handed him a piece of the steak. He took it, chewing slowly before nodding in approval.

“Not bad,” he said, though the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth betrayed his actual enjoyment.

“At least someone appreciates it,” Kyra muttered, her own lips quirking into a faint smile.

She leaned back against the tree beside him, the tension of Menchi’s rejection fading as she shared the meal with someone who actually valued her efforts.

~

A few more contestants stepped up, each attempting something different with their dishes, but all failed to impress. Buhara’s endless appetite remained the only saving grace for most of them, though even he was nearing his limit.

“That was so much food. I’m stuffed,” Buhara said, patting his round stomach with a contented sigh.

Menchi, on the other hand, crossed her arms, her teal eyes gleaming with disdain. “Yeah, I’m stuffed too,” she said sharply, her tone brimming with finality. “Therefore, no one passes! We’re finished here!”

The crowd erupted in stunned murmurs and complaints, but Menchi wasn’t budging. Her mood had soured beyond redemption, and she leaned back with a smug sense of satisfaction—though her sharp teal gaze lingered on Kyra for a fraction too long.

Kyra’s ruby-red eyes narrowed in response, blazing with defiance. Brat. She thought the word so loudly she almost hoped Menchi would hear it telepathically.

The two women locked eyes, the tension crackling like a live wire between them. Menchi’s glare was biting, her irritation at being denied Kyra’s dish still evident. Kyra, however, didn’t falter. Her expression said everything: You can glare all you want, but I’m not backing down, and I’m not wrong.

“This isn’t funny! I won’t accept it! I absolutely refuse to accept this!” someone shouted, slamming his fists against one of the cooking stations. The crash shattered the tense silence between the women, snapping Kyra’s and Menchi’s fiery gazes toward the source of the commotion.

“In the end, you’ve still failed,” Menchi said coldly, her voice slicing through the rising tension like a knife.

“Stop screwing around! You asked for pork, so we risked our lives to—” the man continued whining, but Menchi cut him off with a withering glare.

“I said prepare pork in a manner we both found delicious, and none of you made anything remotely delicious, ” she snapped, her voice gaining a dangerous edge. Her teal eyes flickered briefly toward Kyra—the only one who had actually impressed her, though her bratty pride wouldn’t let her admit it aloud.

“You all did almost the same thing. There was no effort made. Just when I thought someone actually tried, they only changed the appearance. No one attempted to emphasize the flavor,” she continued, pointedly ignoring Kyra. “I’m positive none of you took cooking seriously!”

Kyra clenched her fist, her jaw tightening as Menchi’s words excluded her dish from the conversation entirely.

“Pork dishes are all the same,” another voice muttered from the crowd.

That did it. Menchi slammed her fist into the table, rattling the scattered utensils as she shouted, “Excuse me?! You have the nerve to belittle the art of cooking while failing to innovate in the slightest?” She jabbed a finger at the crowd, her fury radiating. “You lack focus, imagination, and the willingness to experiment. That alone disqualifies you from becoming Hunters!”

“In other words, you people don’t have the guts to try anything new,” Menchi said, lounging on the couch again.

“Shut up! I’m not trying to become a cook or a gourmet, I want to be a Hunter!” someone said, and others rallied behind him in agreement.

“My goal is to become a Black List Hunter, I refuse to let a mere Gourmet Hunter decide my fate!” the same complainer complained.

“Too bad you got stuck with a mere Gourmet Hunter as an examiner, better luck next year?” Menchi suggested uncaringly.

The provoked examinee went in for an attack but Buhara easily slapped him away sending him flying. Menchi scolded him for interfering but if he hadn’t Menchi would have killed that guy, too bad.

“Let me clarify this, we frequently venture into the dens of ferocious beasts searching for ingredients. Every Hunter knows some form of martial arts, you lack focus and the willingness to experiment. That alone disqualifies you from becoming Hunters!” Menchi said, juggling knives around just to show off.

Brat, Kyra thought again, her lips curling slightly. She could see it now: the way Menchi was showboating, flaunting herself just to prove a point. It was infuriating. If Kyra weren’t careful, she might’ve jumped in to knock the bratty examiner down a peg.

She wasn’t the only one itching for action, either. A quick glance revealed Hisoka, the ever-entertained clown, lazily twirling a playing card in his fingers, his gaze fixed on Menchi with dangerous intent.

“That said, it would be excessive to fail every single applicant” the voice said, bringing everyone’s attention to the approaching blimp.

“That’s the symbol of the Hunter Association! Is it someone from the Selection Committee?” someone asked.

A figure leapt from the blimp, landing with a heavy thud that left a crater in the dirt. The old man who emerged looked unassuming, with his bushy brows and pointed goatee, but Kyra immediately sensed his hidden strength.

“Who is that geezer?” someone asked.

“The Chairman of the Selection Committee, he’s in charge of the Hunter Exam, chairman Netero” Menchi helpfully explained.

“Well I work behind the scenes, I only take action when there’s an issue, like now. So Menchi.” the chairman said.

“Yes, sir.” Menchi replied, suddenly formal.

“You failed all of the applicants because you disapproved of their reluctance to try new things?” His gaze briefly flicked to Menchi’s rather revealing outfit, but his tone remained neutral.

Menchi lowered her head. “No, sir. I lost my cool when one of the candidates insulted Gourmet Hunters and made the exam harder than necessary. My wounded pride wouldn’t allow me to even acknowledge the one dish that was actually good,” she admitted.

Kyra huffed quietly in satisfaction. That was my dish, she thought smugly.

“In other words,” Netero continued, his tone sharpening, “you’re aware that this exam was unacceptable.”

“Yes, sir,” Menchi admitted. “When cooking is involved, I lose control. I’m unqualified to be an examiner. I will resign and ask that you redo the Second Phase.”

“That’s a problem,” Netero said with a sigh, scratching his chin. “It would be difficult to find another examiner on such short notice.”

“I apologize,” Menchi said, her voice subdued.

Netero’s eyes glimmered with amusement. “Very well. How about this? I’d like you to continue serving as an examiner—but you must also participate in the new test you propose. Is that acceptable? I’m sure that will help the applicants accept the results.”

Menchi considered this, then nodded. “Alright. Then the new challenge will be boiled eggs!”

The crowd erupted into murmurs, confusion spreading quickly.

“Chairman, can you take us to Mt. Split-in-Half in your airship?” Menchi asked, gesturing toward the blimp.

“Mt. Split-in-Half?” Netero’s brows rose. “Ah, I see what you’re doing. Certainly, I can.”

Minutes later, the examinees found themselves at a towering mountain cleaved down the center by a deep ravine.

“Now everyone. Look down there” Menchi said, directing everyone to look down the ravine, wall to wall the split in the mountain was covered in webs.

“What is that?” Someone asked.

“A Spider Eagle’s web” Menchi replied.

“They build webs down there?” someone asked, they sounded young, Kyra looked at the kid, he couldn’t be older than twelve, the boy next to him seemed the same age, they both had to have something special if they had made it this far, they were someone to look out for in the future no doubt.

“Look below the web, those are Spider Eagle eggs,” Menchi said.

“Spider Eagles build their webs in deep ravines, to protect their eggs from predators. This makes their eggs one of the most difficult ingredients to obtain, the eggs are also known as dream eggs” the chairman said.

“Wait—you don’t mean…” the complainer from earlier trailed off, staring in disbelief.

“I sure do,” Menchi said, leaping off the edge without hesitation.

Kyra watched as Menchi expertly grabbed the web, clung to it briefly, then let go, plummeting toward the eggs below. At the perfect moment, she snatched an egg mid-fall and rode the powerful updraft back to the edge.

So that’s the gist of this challenge Kyra mused to herself.

“This ravine has updrafts that help the hatched chicks fly up to the web” the chairman explained as Menchi landed safely next to him.

“There. Now I just need to boil the egg” Menchi said, holding an egg the size of her head in her hand.

“You must be joking, no reasonable person would jump down there” the complainer was still complaining.

But a group of four, the two kids included, jumped down triggering a herd mentality where others followed down and grabbed the web.

Kyra stayed behind, calculating. If they all go down at once, the web will snap. She waited patiently, biding her time as the first group flew back up.

When the moment was right, she leapt, grabbing onto a stronger section of the web. She hung there, waiting for the breeze to kiss her face before letting go and snatching an egg on her way down. The updraft carried her gracefully back to safety.

Later, as she boiled and ate the egg, she couldn’t help but think: This would taste even better as a deviled egg.

Chapter Text

Once night had fully fallen, the remaining examinees gathered on the deck of the massive blimp, its engines humming softly as it soared through the starlit sky. The tension in the air was palpable, a mix of exhaustion, anticipation, and the quiet hum of adrenaline still coursing through their veins after the day’s events.

“Allow me to introduce myself to the forty-two remaining applicants,” the old man from earlier began, stepping forward with a wide, cheerful grin. “I am Netero, Chairman of this year’s Hunter Exam Selection Committee.”

“And I am his secretary, Beans,” added a short, peculiar-looking man standing at Netero’s side. His bean-shaped and colored head made him stand out even in this eclectic crowd of aspiring Hunters.

Netero stroked his goatee thoughtfully, his sharp eyes glinting with mischief. “Originally, I’d planned to make my appearance during the exam’s final phase, but since I’m already here... I must say, I’m loving this tension in the air! So I think I’ll stick around for the rest of the trip,” he announced, chuckling heartily.

The group of examinees murmured quietly, unsure whether to feel relieved or even more on edge with Netero sticking around.

“We are scheduled to arrive at our destination tomorrow morning at 8 a.m.,” Beans continued, his professional tone contrasting with Netero’s playfulness. “You’ll find dinner waiting for you in the dining hall. You are also welcome to get some rest, explore the blimp, or do as you please until further instruction.”

With those words, the crowd began to scatter, each person moving with purpose—or, for some, with the aimless uncertainty of someone who didn’t yet know what to do next.

Some headed straight to the dining hall, eager to refuel after the long day. Others wandered off to find a quiet place to rest, while a few curious souls set off to explore the intricacies of the luxurious blimp.

Kyra, however, had only one thought:

I need a shower.

The day’s trials had left her feeling absolutely grimy. The sweat, the grime from the forest, and the faint but persistent smell of pork clung to her like an unwelcome shadow. She could feel it on her skin, in her hair, and the very thought made her grimace.

Navigating through the halls of the blimp, Kyra eventually found what she was looking for: a private bathroom with a sleek, modern shower. The room was pristine, with gleaming tiles and a faintly floral scent that promised a moment of reprieve from the day’s chaos.

She stepped inside and locked the door behind her, the sound of the latch clicking oddly satisfying.

Stripping off her worn clothes, she stepped into the shower and turned the water on, letting the hot stream cascade over her. The warmth seeped into her muscles, washing away not just the grime but the tension that had been building since the start of the exam. She closed her eyes and let out a long sigh, savoring the fleeting peace.

This... this is heaven.

For a moment, the worries of the exam—the competition, the bratty Gourmet Hunter, the sly smirks of Gittaruk, and the unsettling presence of Hisoka—faded into the background.

But Kyra knew better than to fully relax. Even in this temporary sanctuary, her mind remained sharp. The Third Phase of the exam was just hours away, and there was no telling what new challenges awaited.

Still, as the water washed over her, she allowed herself a brief moment of indulgence. She deserved at least that much.

When she finally stepped out, refreshed and invigorated, she wrapped herself in a soft towel and caught her reflection in the mirror. For the first time in what felt like days, she looked... calm.

Alright, Kyra, she thought, tying the towel around her. Back to the grind. Let’s see what’s waiting for me out there.

She slipped back into her clean clothes and headed out, her sharp red eyes scanning the hallways. Dinner? Rest? Or maybe it was time to see what kind of trouble the others were getting into on this blimp.

Her stomach grumbling decided for her, dinner it was.

After eating her fill she suddenly felt very tired, rest was next then, ah but where to go? She checked the radio and saw Gittaruk and Hisoka had found a private room to bunk in, the other applicants were likely too scared to try anything so to their room it was.

Kyra knocked on the door “It’s me,” she said.

“Come in~” Hisoka’s voice sang, greeting her in.

Stepping in, she paused and there was a strange man in there with Hisoka, his long black hair framed his sharp face and his black emotionless eyes bore into her, but the Nen was familiar.

“So this must be your true face” she said, closing the door behind her, “Would you tell me your true name as well?” she asked.

“Illumi, Illumi Zoldyck” he introduced with a slight nod.

Now it also made sense why he hid behind a disguise, the Zoldycks were a family of assassins and very famous ones at that, even a picture was worth a lot of money, too bad Kyra hadn’t brought her camera.

“We’re playing old maid, care to join?” Hisoka asked, breaking the silent tension of something between them.

“Sure” Kyra shrugged and sat between the jester and the assassin on the bed.

The game started off quietly, with the shuffling of cards filling the silence in the room. Hisoka dealt the cards with his usual flamboyance, a sly grin plastered across his face as if he were savoring some private joke. Illumi, on the other hand, remained eerily composed, his face as unreadable as ever.

Kyra sat between them, her sharp red eyes flicking between the two as she picked up her cards. She couldn’t help but feel that this wasn’t just a game of Old Maid—it was something else entirely. With these two, it was always a game within a game, an unspoken contest of wit and subtle threats.

“Don’t look so serious, Kyra~,” Hisoka teased, drawing a card from her hand and glancing at it with mock intrigue. “You’ll ruin the fun.”

Kyra smirked, taking a card from Illumi’s hand in return. “With you two? ‘Fun’ is just another word for scheming.”

Illumi said nothing, his eyes flickering to her briefly before focusing on his cards. He didn’t need to say much—his mere presence was enough to exude an air of controlled danger.

The game progressed in tense silence, each move deliberate, each glance a veiled attempt to read the other’s intentions. Kyra was careful, knowing better than to let either of them see her hand—figuratively and literally. Hisoka thrived on chaos and provocation, while Illumi was the embodiment of calm, methodical precision.

“So, Illumi,” Kyra said casually, picking a card from Hisoka’s hand, “what brings a Zoldyck to the Hunter Exam? Don’t tell me you’re actually here for the license.”

Illumi’s eyes didn’t leave his cards as he answered in his monotone voice. “I have my reasons. And you, Kyra? What’s your story?”

She hesitated for a fraction of a second before giving him a wry smile. “Let’s just say... I’ve got unfinished business that requires a license.”

Hisoka chuckled, clearly amused. “My, my, such vague answers all around. It’s like we’re one big, happy family of secrets.”

“More like a dysfunctional one,” Kyra muttered under her breath, drawing another card.

The game continued, the tension in the room thickening with each round. Hisoka’s grin only widened as he sensed the silent battle of wills between Kyra and Illumi. It wasn’t just a card game anymore—it was a test of resolve, of how far each was willing to go to keep their secrets and intentions hidden.

Finally, Illumi broke the silence. “You’re skilled,” he said, his flat tone carrying just the faintest hint of acknowledgment. “Not many can keep their composure in a room like this.”

Kyra glanced at him, surprised by the subtle compliment. “Coming from a Zoldyck, I’ll take that as high praise.”

Hisoka leaned back on the bed, laughing softly. “How delightful! I think I’m starting to like this little dynamic we have here.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Kyra said, her tone sharp but not unfriendly. “The moment this exam is over, we’re all back to being enemies.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Hisoka purred, his gaze lingering on her just a little too long.

As the game drew to a close, Kyra found herself holding the Old Maid card. Hisoka clapped his hands together in mock celebration. “And the loser is... our lovely Kyra! How fitting~.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” Kyra said, tossing the card onto the bed. “I’ll let you have this one, Hisoka.”

Illumi stood, his movements fluid and precise, and began gathering his cards. “This was... interesting. But I think I’ve had enough games for one night.”

As he turned to leave, Kyra called after him. “Illumi.”

He paused, glancing over his shoulder.

“Next time we play, don’t expect me to lose,” she said with a smirk.

Illumi’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of something in his dark eyes—amusement? Respect? It was hard to tell. “We’ll see,” he said simply before leaving the room.

With Illumi gone, the atmosphere shifted. Hisoka’s grin grew even wider as he leaned closer to Kyra, his voice low and teasing. “So, my dear, what shall we play next?”

Kyra rolled her eyes and stood up, stretching. “I think I’ve had enough of your games for tonight.”

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Hisoka said, his tone dripping with mock disappointment. “You’re the most fun I’ve had all day.”

Kyra ignored him, heading for the door. “Goodnight, Hisoka.”

As she left the room, she couldn’t help but smile to herself. It had been an unusual evening, but in a way, it was oddly refreshing. The tension of the exam still loomed large, but for a brief moment, she’d found a strange kind of camaraderie in the unlikeliest of places.

The night was far from over, but for now, Kyra was content to let the stars guide her thoughts as the blimp sailed on toward whatever awaited them in the morning.

Chapter Text

A little past the expected arrival time, the blimp finally landed on top of a towering structure, letting out the examinees onto its flat summit.

Kyra stepped off the blimp, feeling refreshed in more ways than one. The shower, the meal, and the surprisingly peaceful sleep had all done wonders for her. Even her dreams had been unusually pleasant—happy memories of her brother filled her subconscious, though curiously, she also recalled fleeting glimpses of Gittaruk. Or rather, Illumi . Dreams truly were strange things.

“Ahem!” Beans’ voice rang out, pulling everyone’s attention to the small man standing near the edge of the tower. “Everyone, the exam’s Third Phase will begin here, at the top of Trick Tower. To pass this phase, you must reach the base of the tower alive. The time limit is seventy-two hours. And with that...” He stepped back toward the open door of the blimp. “We officially begin the Third Phase. Good luck.”

Without another word, Beans disappeared into the blimp as it ascended back into the sky, leaving the forty-two examinees stranded on the tower’s summit.

Kyra wasted no time. She began circling the top of the tower, scanning for any useful clues about how to proceed. It wasn’t long before her sharp eyes landed on two trapdoors, suspiciously close together. Something about them caught her attention—they looked like they might lead to the same room below.

Her gaze drifted across the crowd of examinees until it landed on Illumi. Their eyes met, and she wordlessly gestured for him to come over. Without hesitation, he crossed the rooftop to join her, his movements as smooth and deliberate as always.

She pointed to the trapdoors. “Looks like we have a choice. Left or right.”

Illumi glanced at her, then at the trapdoors. “Simultaneous entry seems... logical.”

She nodded, crouching in front of the left entrance. Illumi took the one on the right. With a quick glance at each other, they dropped through the doors in unison.

The room they entered was sparse, with two passages leading forward, two wristwatches hanging on the wall, and two radios resting on a small table. A plaque on the wall bore a message in bold letters:

The two of you must split. The path of blind faith will lead you to your goal.

A voice crackled to life through an unseen speaker, startling Kyra. “Welcome,” the voice drawled. “My name is Lippo. I’m the prison warden here, as well as the Third Phase examiner. Multiple routes through this tower have been prepared. You have chosen the path of blind faith. Best of luck.”

Kyra’s lips quirked into a smirk. “Well, I suppose it’s lucky we’re already in an alliance, huh, Illumi?”

“I suppose,” Illumi replied curtly, his tone neutral as he picked up one of the radios and strapped the matching watch onto his wrist.

Kyra did the same, sliding the watch onto her arm and giving the radio a quick test. Satisfied, she moved toward one of the passages. “Guess it’s time to put that blind faith to work,” she said, stepping into the darkened tunnel.

The meaning of the path’s name became clear almost immediately. The maze-like passages alternated between areas of pitch-black darkness and sections of visibility. It was impossible to progress without help—the partner on the other end of the radio had to provide guidance through the blinded sections.

“Two steps forward, then turn right,” Illumi’s calm voice instructed through the crackling radio.

Kyra followed his directions, her steps measured. Despite her initial wariness, Illumi hadn’t misled her yet. In turn, she relayed instructions when his path darkened, ensuring they both made steady progress.

As they pressed forward, Kyra couldn’t help but reflect on the strange situation. Here she was, relying entirely on someone she didn’t trust. But trust wasn’t a requirement for this alliance—pragmatism was. And for now, they both understood that sabotaging the other would only lead to mutual failure.

Their cooperation bore fruit. Before long, each of them reached a small room along their respective paths, where a convict awaited to stall their progress.

Kyra’s opponent lunged at her with a makeshift club, but he was laughably slow. She ducked under his swing and delivered a swift kick to his ribs, sending him sprawling to the floor. Within moments, it was over.

When she met up with Illumi again, she noted the faint traces of a struggle on his clothes, though he remained as composed as ever. They exchanged a brief nod before continuing onward.

~

“Applicant number 20, Kyra: second to pass. Total time: twelve hours, two minutes and twenty seconds,” a voice announced as Kyra stepped into the tower’s base.

“Applicant number 301, Gittaruk: third to pass. Total time: twelve hours, two minutes, and twenty-one seconds.”

Kyra couldn’t help but smirk as Illumi joined her in the open chamber. “One second behind me. You're slipping, Illumi?”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t reply, his expression as unreadable as ever.

The base of Trick Tower was a stark contrast to its ominous exterior. The room was simple, with stone walls illuminated by soft, flickering torches. Despite the minimalistic surroundings, the tension hung thick in the air, a reminder of the grueling challenge they had just faced.

Kyra exhaled, feeling the weight of exhaustion finally catch up to her. Twelve hours in a labyrinth of blind faith, relying on Illumi of all people, wasn’t something she’d expected to survive unscathed—not physically, but mentally. Yet here she was, her senses sharp and her instincts intact.

Illumi, or Gittaruk as he was technically known to the others, remained silent, his expression unreadable as always. He hadn’t so much as broken a sweat, his movements as precise and deliberate as they had been from the start. For a moment, Kyra couldn’t help but wonder if anything at all rattled him.

And then there was Hisoka.

The man sat cross-legged on the stone floor, shuffling a deck of cards with his usual flair, his golden eyes gleaming with delight at the sight of them. “Oh my, it seems my favorite duo has arrived~,” he drawled, his voice carrying that maddeningly playful lilt. “I was beginning to think you’d gotten lost.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Kyra replied dryly, walking over to sit across from him. She was too tired to deal with his theatrics, but she knew better than to show weakness around him. “We were right behind you.”

“Hmm, twelve hours, two minutes, and twenty seconds,” Hisoka mused, tapping his chin with a card. “Not bad, not bad at all. Though, of course, I was faster.”

Kyra rolled her eyes. “Congratulations, want a medal?”

“Why, yes, actually,” Hisoka quipped, grinning as he began dealing the cards. “But I’ll settle for a game. Shall we?”

Illumi silently joined them, sitting cross-legged on the floor. Hisoka began shuffling with a dramatic flourish, clearly enjoying himself far too much.

As the three of them settled into the familiar rhythm of the game, Kyra found herself feeling oddly at ease. It was absurd—playing cards with two of the most dangerous men she’d ever met, in the middle of a deadly competition. But somehow, it worked.

This time, Kyra found herself more relaxed, the earlier tension from the tower fading into the background. Despite everything—despite Illumi’s eerie calm, Hisoka’s unpredictable nature, and the sheer insanity of the Hunter Exam—there was something oddly soothing about this moment. Perhaps it was the simplicity of the game, or the unspoken understanding between the three of them that, for now at least, they weren’t enemies.

As the game progressed, Kyra caught herself glancing at Illumi. The man was an enigma, his every move calculated and deliberate. She thought back to the maze, to the moments of blind faith where she’d had no choice but to trust him. He hadn’t let her down—not once. But that didn’t mean she trusted him now. Not entirely.

Still, she couldn’t deny that their alliance, however tenuous, had been effective. And if they continued to work together, perhaps she’d get a chance to understand him better—or at least figure out what he was really after.

“Your turn, Kyra,” Hisoka’s voice cut through her thoughts, his grin widening as he slid a card toward her.

Kyra smirked, plucking the card from his hand and adding it to her growing pairs. “Looks like I’m winning again.”

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Illumi said quietly, his monotone voice laced with an almost imperceptible edge.

The game continued, a strange calm settling over the trio. They didn’t need words to fill the silence; the unspoken tension between them was enough to keep things interesting. And as Kyra laid down her final pair, she couldn’t help but feel a small sense of triumph.

“Out,” she announced, leaning back with a satisfied grin.

Hisoka chuckled, holding up the Old Maid with an exaggerated pout. “Oh, Kyra, you wound me.”

“Get used to it,” she shot back, standing and stretching. “I’m going to find something to eat. You two have fun.”

Illumi didn’t look up, his focus already on shuffling the cards. Hisoka simply waved her off with a lazy grin, his attention drifting between the cards and his newfound playmate.

As Kyra walked away, she couldn’t help but glance back at them. Two of the most dangerous men she’d ever met, casually playing cards as if they weren’t in the middle of a deadly competition. It was absurd. But then again, so was everything about the Hunter Exam.

She shook her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips. Whatever came next, she’d be ready. After all, she’d made it this far—and she wasn’t about to stop now.

~

Hours passed, marked by countless rounds of Old Maid, BS, and Poker. The three of them—Kyra, Illumi, and Hisoka—played in relative silence, occasionally interrupted by the shuffle of cards or the soft chuckle of Hisoka as he reveled in his victories. Outside their game, time inched forward, and one by one, other contestants trickled into the chamber.

Finally, as the seventy-two-hour deadline loomed, the remaining examinees arrived. The tension in the room spiked as the last seconds ticked away.

“Applicant number 404, Kurapika, twentieth to pass,” the loudspeaker announced. “Applicant number 99, Killua, twenty-first to pass. Applicant number 405, Gon, twenty-second to pass. Total time: seventy-one hours and fifty-nine minutes.”

Kyra looked up from her cards, her sharp red eyes narrowing slightly. It was those kids again—Killua and Gon. They stood side by side, panting slightly but victorious. Kyra studied Gon, a small smile tugging at her lips. He was the spitting image of his father.

She happened to glance at Illumi, curious about his reaction, and noticed his gaze locked onto the silver-haired boy—Killua. His dark eyes were unreadable but piercing, staring at the boy with an intensity that made Kyra’s curiosity flare.

Interesting. A family member, perhaps? she mused silently.

The loudspeaker crackled to life again. “Applicant number 403, Leorio, twenty-third to pass. Applicant number 16, Tonpa, twenty-fourth to pass. Total time: seventy-one hours and fifty-nine minutes.”

Tonpa? Kyra blinked in mild disbelief. That guy’s still alive? She hadn’t expected the self-proclaimed Rookie Crusher to make it this far, given how blatantly he sabotaged others.

With the last names announced, the disembodied voice continued, its tone resolute. “The Third Phase of the exam is now over. Twenty-five applicants have passed. One has died.”

The finality of the statement hung in the air. There was no mourning for the lost examinee—just cold efficiency. The group stood in somber silence until a section of the wall ahead slid open with a low rumble, revealing a brightly lit corridor.

It was over. The Third Phase was officially complete.

Kyra stood, brushing imaginary dust off her clothes, her body still and composed despite the long hours of waiting. She glanced at the others in the room—Hisoka’s playful smirk remained firmly in place, while Illumi’s expression had returned to its usual unreadable calm, though Kyra couldn’t ignore how his eyes kept flicking toward Killua.

She followed his gaze for a moment, observing the silver-haired boy as he chatted with Gon and Kurapika. Killua had a quiet confidence about him, a sharpness that Kyra recognized. Definitely family, she thought, her mind filing away the tidbit for later.

“Well,” Hisoka said, standing and stretching languidly. “That was fun. But I suppose it’s time to move on to the next stage.”

Kyra smirked. “You sound way too eager.”

Hisoka’s eyes glinted. “Oh, but I am. Things are only going to get more... entertaining from here.”

With that, the three of them joined the rest of the examinees, stepping through the open wall and into whatever awaited them next.

Chapter Text

The remaining examinees gathered at the foot of Trick Tower, the atmosphere tense with anticipation. Exhaustion lingered in the air, but it was overshadowed by the growing curiosity about what awaited them next.

“Ladies and gentlemen, congratulations on escaping Trick Tower,” a familiar voice announced. The voice belonged to Lippo, and this time, they could finally see the man behind it. He was shorter than expected, with round glasses perched on his nose and a purple mohawk crowning his head. Not exactly the intimidating figure one might envision as a prison warden or an examiner, but there was a shrewdness in his gaze that warned against underestimating him.

“Only the Fourth Phase and the Final Phase remain,” Lippo continued “The Fourth Phase will take place over there, on Zevil Island. Let us proceed.”

He gestured toward the horizon, where the dense silhouette of the island loomed ominously against the skyline. There was an audible stir among the examinees, murmurs of curiosity and apprehension. Before anyone could ask further questions, Lippo snapped his fingers, and a small, unassuming black box was rolled in.

“I will need you to draw lots,” he announced.

“Lots?” one of the examinees asked skeptically.

“For what?” another chimed in.

“To determine who will hunt... and who will be hunted,” Lippo said, his tone cool and matter-of-fact. “In this box are twenty-four numbered cards, each corresponding to one of your ID numbers. You will draw a card to determine your target. Now, I need you to draw in the order you cleared the tower. Will the first person please step forward?”

There was a ripple of unease in the group as Hisoka calmly strode to the box. The crowd fell silent, watching the unnerving man with wary eyes. He reached into the box, plucking out a card and glancing at it before slipping it into his pocket. His smirk gave nothing away.

Kyra went next. She stepped forward, her expression impassive as she reached into the box. Drawing a card, she flipped it to inspect it. The front was blank.

Interesting, she thought, slipping the card into her pocket. Lippo had already outlined their task, and Kyra had taken care to secure her own tag in her bag, just in case. She suspected the cards were blank for everyone—until the seals were removed.

One by one, the remaining applicants approached the box, each drawing their lot with varying levels of apprehension. When the last person had drawn their card, Lippo clapped his hands for attention.

“Everyone’s taken a card? Good. Now, remove the seal from your card,” he instructed.

Kyra peeled the seal from her card, revealing a number: 34. Her sharp eyes scanned the group until she found her target. It was a young man with black hair and dark eyes, standing near the edge of the group. He was handsome enough, she supposed, but appearances wouldn’t stop her from eliminating him if he proved too weak to protect himself.

“The card indicates your target,” Lippo explained. His words sent a ripple of realization through the group. Many examinees scrambled to hide their tags, clutching them tightly or tucking them away in a hurry. Kyra couldn’t help but shake her head at their panic. Lippo’s earlier comments should have been warning enough to keep their tags secure from the start.

“This box has recorded which card each of you drew,” Lippo continued. “This means you are free to dispose of the cards if you wish. The objective is to steal your target’s ID tag. Naturally, you’re free to use any method you choose to obtain the tag—including killing your target and taking the tag off their corpse.”

Kyra’s lips twitched into a faint smile. I figured it would be something like this, she thought. Her only concern was whether either of her allies—Hisoka or Illumi—might have drawn her number. That would complicate things.

Lippo raised a hand, commanding their full attention once more. “Listen carefully! Your target’s ID tag is worth three points. Your own ID tag is also worth three points. All other ID tags are worth one point. To advance to the Final Phase, you must gather enough tags to total six points. That is the condition for clearing the Fourth Phase.”

Kyra’s mind was already at work, calculating strategies. The rules provided enough flexibility to allow for cunning and deception, but they also demanded efficiency. There was no room for hesitation—only action.

~

As the remaining applicants took a boat to Zevil Island, Kyra used the time to confirm whether she was a target of either of her allies.

Neither Illumi nor Hisoka revealed their actual target, but they assured her it wasn’t her. That was enough for now.

A cheery guide prattled on about the island and its terrain, but no one was listening. The exam had already entered its next phase—the hunt had begun.

Kyra suspected the examinees would be let off the boat in intervals, making it tricky to track her target. But she had a plan. She would wait in the trees near the landing site, watching until Number 34 stepped onto the island. The moment he let his guard down, she’d strike.

From what she had seen so far, he wouldn’t be difficult to take down. The fool hadn’t even bothered to hide his ID at the start. Then again, if he proved to be more of a challenge, that could be fun. She doubted it, though.

The boat ride took two hours, followed by another two minutes before she was allowed to disembark—right after Hisoka. She barely spared him a glance. Her mind was on her target.

As soon as she stepped onto Zevil Island, she melted into the trees, staying close to the drop-off point. She didn’t need to go far. All she had to do was wait.

Minutes passed. Then—there.

Number 34 stepped onto the island, tension radiating from his body. His eyes darted around, scanning his surroundings.

Everywhere... except the trees.

Fool.

~

Kyra had to hand it to her target—he lasted longer than she expected. It wasn’t until well into the second day that exhaustion, hunger, and the unrelenting pressure of being hunted finally broke him. That was when she struck.

Her nodachi sliced through the air in a flash, piercing the man’s torso with unerring precision. The blade sank into his heart so effortlessly it was as if the weapon itself sought his demise. For anyone else, wielding such a large sword with precision would seem impossible, but Kyra was no ordinary fighter.

The man gasped, his body crumpling before he even realized he was dead. Without hesitation, Kyra retrieved his ID tag, tucking it safely into her bag alongside her own.

But her task wasn’t finished.

Kyra melted back into the trees, her movements silent and practiced. She couldn’t forget— she was a target, too. This island was just as much a hunting ground for her pursuers as it was for her prey.

With five more days left on Zevil Island, Kyra decided to focus on her next priority: finding a reliable water source. Hunting and fighting burned through energy fast, and staying hydrated was essential if she wanted to remain sharp.

Her search led her to a quiet riverbank. Kneeling near the water’s edge, she was about to fill her flask when movement nearby caught her attention.

It was Gon.

The boy stood a short distance downstream, his fishing rod whipping through the air as he practiced catching birds mid-flight. Kyra tilted her head slightly, observing him with mild curiosity. She didn’t know who his target was, but judging by his dedication to training, it was likely someone stronger than him.

Her sharp red eyes darted to a rustling in the bushes behind him.

Someone was watching. No, targeting him.

The man hidden in the shadows moved with the slow, deliberate caution of a hunter closing in on his prey. Gon, blissfully unaware, was entirely focused on his fishing. The poor boy had forgotten the most basic rule of this phase: never let your guard down.

Kyra considered her options. She could warn him.

...But no. She wasn’t that nice.

Instead, she turned and made her way further upstream, leaving the boy to his fate. She’d find a better, quieter spot to refill her water. If Gon survived, well, that was his own problem to figure out.

~

With a secure shelter near fresh water and an abundant food source—the river was teeming with fish—Kyra was confident she could survive on this island for years if necessary. Thankfully, only four days remained in this phase of the exam. She just had to lay low and wait it out.

She wondered what Illumi and Hisoka were up to. Knowing them, they had likely already secured their points and were hunkering down, much like her. Well, at least Illumi probably was. Hisoka, on the other hand, was unlikely to take the efficient route—after all, the clown did love his playtime.

The thought sent a small shiver down her spine. Hisoka was unpredictable at the best of times, and she had no intention of being his next source of entertainment. She had seen him fight before—seen the way his eyes gleamed when he found a promising opponent. It was like he forgot the concept of restraint.

~

Days passed without much incident. Kyra figured her hunter had either been taken out by their own target or had fallen victim to Hisoka’s overzealous "playtime." Either way, it didn’t matter—she had survived, and the final day had finally arrived.

Some examinees were likely already waiting at the starting point, eager for the phase to end. She considered heading there herself, on the off chance that Hisoka or Illumi were there as well. At the very least, she should linger nearby—just in case.

After catching a fish for a quick meal and refilling her water supply, Kyra set off toward the starting point.

Once there, she perched herself comfortably in the trees, but she kept her guard up. The island was still dangerous, and the remaining examinees wouldn’t hesitate to make a last-minute move if they thought it would give them an edge.

As the sun traveled across the sky, more participants began to emerge, settling into hiding spots near the clearing. Tension hung in the air—everyone was watching, waiting, ready to defend their hard-earned points.

Then, as if he owned the place, Hisoka strolled in, completely at ease.

Kyra wasn’t sure if it was his confidence or his unsettling presence, but the mere sight of him seemed to unnerve the others. Even the most hardened examinees stayed out of his way.

Not long after, Illumi arrived, once again concealed by his disguise. The two men exchanged a brief glance before settling down by the shore, completely unbothered by the watchful eyes around them.

And then, as if this were just another casual evening rather than the final hours of a brutal survival test, they started playing Old Maid.

Kyra blinked. A third hand had been set—a silent invitation.

For a moment, she hesitated. It was a reckless idea. Hisoka and Illumi weren’t exactly the kind of company one should let their guard down around. And yet, there was something almost... disarming about the way they sat there, untroubled by the paranoia that gripped everyone else.

Against her better judgment, she dropped from the trees and took the empty seat.

The game began, and strangely, so did the stories.

Casual conversation flowed between them as they traded tales of how they had secured their six points, their voices relaxed despite the tension crackling in the air.

The scene was surreal—three deadly players, passing cards and sharing exploits as if they weren’t surrounded by wary opponents who, given the chance, would kill to take their spots.

Kyra knew this was dangerous.

But for now, just for a little while—she let herself enjoy it.

“How did the hunt go?” Hisoka was the first to break the silence, his playful smirk making it clear he was eager to share his own exploits.

“Rather boring,” Illumi replied, as if discussing the weather. “You saw my target. It was all too easy to finish him off.”

Kyra rolled her shoulders, matching their casual tone. “Mine put up a decent fight, I’ll give him that. Lasted well into day two before he finally dropped his guard. Then I pounced, and it was over in a flash.”

The strange, almost relaxed atmosphere made her lower her guard—not completely, but enough to acknowledge that, for now, the two men weren’t a direct threat. That didn’t mean she trusted them, of course. She wouldn’t trust either of them as far as she could throw them.

“Oh, tell me it was bloody~” Hisoka grinned, eyes glinting with sick excitement.

Kyra shrugged. “I guess. Stabbed him in the heart, so…” She let the sentence trail off.

Illumi gave her a blank stare. “Sloppy. An assassin shouldn’t leave a drop behind.” His tone was distant, as if reciting a lesson learned in childhood.

Kyra huffed. “I’m not an assassin. I’m a hunter.”

“Not yet,” Illumi corrected matter-of-factly, reminding them all that the exam wasn’t over.

She shot him an annoyed glare but sighed, deciding it wasn’t worth arguing. Instead, she turned to Hisoka. “Since you’re so eager to share, what about you?”

Hisoka’s grin widened, eyes half-lidded with amusement. “Oh, it was delightful. So many wonderfully unripe fruits here~ So much potential.” His voice was syrupy, his tongue flicking over his lips as bloodlust seeped into the air.

“Gross. Keep it in your pants,” Illumi deadpanned.

Hisoka pouted. “Party pooper.” But, to Kyra’s mild surprise, he reeled himself in—at least for now.

~

The strange, casual air between the three never dissipated, even as they continued swapping stories—some bloody, some not—while the final hours of the phase quietly slipped away.

Then, a voice echoed across the island from the ship waiting at the starting point.

"The Fourth Phase of the exam has just ended. Will the applicants please return to the starting point at once? You will be given one hour of extra time. If you do not return during this time, you will fail the exam. Furthermore, you are not allowed to exchange tags after reaching the starting point. Anyone caught swapping tags will be disqualified."

Most of the remaining examinees had already been lurking near the start, waiting for this moment. So when the ship finally docked at the shore, those who had secured their six points began gathering.

The ever-cheerful, chatty guide from before stepped off the ship, clipboard in hand. “Then we will now check the tags of everyone here!” she announced brightly.

One by one, the applicants stepped forward, displaying their collected tags for verification.

"#44 Hisoka, #53 Pokkle, #20 Kyra, #99 Killua, #301 Gittaruk, #191 Bodoro, #294 Hanzo."

The guide made quick notes, confirming each had the required six points. “So, seven applicants have passed?” she mused aloud, glancing over the group.

Just then, three more figures emerged at the last second.

Kyra recognized one of them instantly—Gon.

That kid really liked cutting it down to the wire, huh?

The guide, unfazed by their dramatic entrance, smiled as she jotted down more names. “Ah, three more arrive at the last second. And now for the final few members. #404 Kurapika, #403 Leorio, and #405 Gon.”

She clapped her hands together. “That makes ten! These ten applicants have officially passed the Fourth Phase of the exam!”

Chapter Text

Once again, they were aboard the blimp, heading to the site of the Final Phase. Kyra took the opportunity to shower, relishing the rare moment of cleanliness.

It was only as she scrubbed off the grime of the past few days that she fully registered something she had noticed back on the shore—she was the only female applicant who had made it to the Final Phase.

Before she could dwell on it, an announcement echoed through the halls, cutting even through the sound of rushing water.

"I have an announcement for all applicants. The chairman wishes to interview the remaining candidates. When your number is called, please report to the first reception room on the second floor. We will begin with #44, Hisoka."

Kyra pouted slightly. Just as I was starting to relax…

Oh well. She rinsed off quickly, dried off as best she could, and waited for her number to be called.

"#20, Kyra."

With a sigh, she stood and made her way to the interview room, her damp hair still clinging to her shoulders.

Inside, Chairman Netero sat at a small table, a brush and paper in hand. He gestured toward the seat across from him.

“Please, have a seat.”

Kyra obeyed, her expression unreadable as she studied the old man. Her mind, however, was already racing. What’s your game here, old man?

“Well then, right to it,” Netero began, dipping his brush into ink. “First, why do you want to become a Hunter?”

“The license affords many benefits,” Kyra answered smoothly. “Including the resources to hunt a certain man.”

She kept her response deliberately vague, but truthful enough to satisfy.

Netero hummed, jotting something down. “Next question. Which of the other nine applicants are you keeping an eye on?”

“#44 and #301,” she replied without hesitation. “Allies are the ones closest to stabbing you in the back.”

The old man chuckled, amused by her cynicism. “Interesting. One last question. Which of the other nine applicants would you least want to fight?”

Kyra leaned back slightly. “Truthfully? I wouldn’t mind fighting any of them.”

“Oh?” Netero’s brush stilled for a moment. “Even your allies?”

“If it’s called for,” Kyra said evenly, her red eyes narrowing. “I’d even fight you.”

For a beat, there was silence. Then, Netero let out a hearty laugh, the sound filling the small room.

“Well then,” he said, still chuckling. “Thank you for your time.”

Kyra gave a short nod and left without another word.

She had a shower to finish. And, hopefully, some much-needed relaxation.

~

The next day, the blimp landed in front of a lavish hotel, where the remaining applicants were ushered into a spacious hall.

“Well, ladies and gentlemen, did you get plenty of rest?” Chairman Netero’s voice rang out as he stood before them, hands clasped behind his back. “This hotel is owned by the Hunter Exam Selection Committee. The place is all yours until the battles have concluded.”

Kyra glanced around. It was certainly a change from the wilderness they had endured over the past phases.

“For the Final Phase, we will be holding a one-on-one tournament,” Netero continued as a board covered in white cloth was wheeled in beside him.

With a dramatic flourish, he pulled off the cloth, revealing a tournament-style bracket. Kyra’s sharp eyes took in the setup immediately—it was a last-man-standing format.

“So only the last person standing passes?” someone asked.

“No,” Netero corrected. “One win is all you need to pass.”

“One win?” Gon echoed, puzzled.

“Then… in this tournament…” Leorio trailed off, working through the logic.

“The winners are removed from the competition, while the losers continue up the bracket,” Netero explained. “In other words, the person who finishes at the top—the one who fights the most—will not pass.”

A murmur rippled through the group.

“So you’re saying only one person will fail,” Hanzo, the ninja-like applicant, confirmed.

“Exactly,” Netero said with a grin. “And here’s the bracket.”

He pulled away the tape covering the bottom half of the board, revealing the matchups.

Kyra’s gaze flicked to her own placement—she was slotted between Killua and Illumi.

Her eyes shifted to the white-haired kid. If he really is a Zoldyck, I can’t afford to underestimate him.

A light poke to her arm drew her attention. She turned to see Illumi staring at her, his unreadable gaze digging into her.

“You better win,” he murmured. “I want to fight him.”

Kyra sighed. Of course he does.

She only hoped he wouldn’t be too annoyed if Killua proved more stubborn than expected and refused to surrender. Then again… she could always throw the match and fight Illumi herself. That could be fun.

“Impressive, right?” Netero continued. “After all, everyone has at least two chances to win.”

“But some people, like #294 and #405, get five chances,” someone pointed out.

“Why didn’t you use a balanced bracket?” another asked.

Netero’s smile widened, as if he had been waiting for this question. “A question that must be on everyone’s mind. This bracket was assembled based on your performances throughout the entire exam. Those who performed better received more chances.”

“That doesn’t sound right,” Killua said flatly. “Can you explain how you scored our performances?”

Kyra resisted the urge to smirk. He was just salty that Gon had ranked higher than him. Not that she wasn’t a little irritated at ranking lower than a kid, either. But she had deliberately kept most of her abilities under wraps, knowing they were being observed the entire time.

“No!” Netero suddenly barked.

“Why not?!” Killua demanded.

The old man chuckled. “Your scores are classified information, so I can’t tell you everything. But I can explain our methods.” He held up three fingers. “We considered three major criteria: physical strength, mental strength, and overall impression.

“For physical strength, we evaluated agility, flexibility, endurance, and perception. For mental strength, we factored in resilience, adaptability, judgment, and creativity. However,” he added, “these are merely reference points. All of you were strong enough to advance to the Final Phase.

“What we are most concerned with is your overall impression. This refers to any intangible factors not previously mentioned. You could consider it an evaluation of your potential as a Hunter. And yes,” Netero’s eyes twinkled mischievously, “we also incorporated the opinions of your peers.”

Kyra’s lips twitched slightly. So they’re keeping the final rankings vague on purpose. Figures.

“The battle rules are simple,” Netero continued. “Weapons are allowed, but no cheating. If your opponent admits defeat, you win. However!” He raised a finger. “If you kill your opponent, you will be immediately disqualified. All remaining applicants will pass, and the exam will end. Are we clear?”

No one responded, but the unspoken agreement was clear.

“Then,” Netero declared, “we shall begin the exam’s Final Phase!”

The examinees instinctively cleared a space for the first match—Hanzo vs. Gon.

Kyra leaned back slightly, arms crossed. The real game was about to begin.

~

The fight was brutal.

Hanzo pulled every trick from the torture handbook, trying to force Gon to surrender, but the kid refused. Stubbornly, foolishly, he insisted he would win—even though, realistically, he stood no chance against someone as well-trained as Hanzo.

Eventually, Hanzo ended it with a single blow, he conceded the match himself, taking the loss. And then, to everyone’s surprise, knocked Gon unconscious. 

With Gon taken to the infirmary, the tournament moved on.

Kurapika vs Hisoka. The two of them fought for a while before Hisoka whispered something to Kurapika before withdrawing from the fight.

Hanzo vs. Pokkle. Hanzo used the same intimidation tactics as before, but Pokkle surrendered almost immediately.

Hisoka vs Bodoro. Hisoka beat down the old man but the old man did not give up, until Hisoka again whispered something to him and he surrendered.

Pokkle vs. Killua. The white-haired boy didn’t even bother fighting. He simply walked to the center, shrugged, and withdrew. “Not worth my time,” he muttered as he turned away.

Then, before she knew it, it was her turn.

“Next match: Killua vs. Kyra.”

Both stepped forward, taking their places.

Kyra could already see it in his posture—Killua was underestimating her. He had every intention of forfeiting just as he had with Pokkle.

But she wasn’t about to let that happen.

“Taking the loss is fine and all,” she said casually, her smirk sharp as a knife. “If you want to be all noble and not hit a woman, that is.” She tilted her head. “But I wonder… could your pride really handle losing— to a girl ?”

Killua tensed.

Kyra smirked wider. Got him.

“I’m not afraid of hitting you,” Killua bit back.

“I wonder if you even can,” she taunted.

“Let the match begin!” the referee announced.

Killua moved first, his steps measured, deliberate. In an instant, his body blurred—afterimages flickering like ghosts as he used the Rhythm-Step technique to confuse her.

Smart. He wasn’t rushing in recklessly. He was testing her, searching for an opening.

But there was none.

Kyra remained still, crimson eyes tracking his movements effortlessly.

Killua darted in—if an opening didn’t exist, he would create one!

He lashed out, but Kyra dodged with ease. As he flew past her, she drove her knee into his stomach.

Killua coughed, staggering back. Shit, that hurt!

He hadn’t felt pain like this in a while.

No matter. He pushed forward, going for another strike.

Kyra caught his wrist mid-attack. Before he could react, she twisted his arm, yanked him forward, and sent him flying with a brutal kick to the back.

Killua righted himself mid-air, landing on his feet. Without hesitation, he boosted off the wall, flipping into a kick—only for Kyra to intercept him again.

This time, she spun him, throwing off his balance. He barely had time to register the movement before another powerful kick slammed into him, sending him crashing into the wall.

Pain flared through his body. He could feel the bruises forming.

But more than that—he was pissed.

A dangerous, murderous aura leaked from him.

I’ll kill her.

Kyra gave a low whistle. “Not bad,” she said lazily. “For a kid.”

That smirk. That damn smirk.

Killua snapped.

He rushed in blindly, and it was the biggest mistake he could’ve made.

What followed wasn’t a fight. It was a beatdown.

If he had been a normal person, he would’ve been dead already. But he wasn’t normal. He was a Zoldyck. Even so, by the time he managed to break away, his body was trembling—both from pain and something he couldn’t quite place.

Fear.

“You’re trembling,” Kyra observed. “Is it fear, I wonder?” Her smirk widened. “How sad. The great and mighty Zoldyck heir, shaking because of a girl.”

“Shut up!” Killua roared, lunging at her again.

Kyra was more than happy to entertain him.

She let the fight continue a little longer, dealing another round of punishment. Careful, calculated—pushing him to his limit, but never knocking him out.

By the time he collapsed, he was a bloodied mess, lying in a pool of his own blood.

He had never felt like this before. He was going to die.

And that terrified him more than he thought it would.

Silence fell over the room.

Then—

“I give,” Kyra announced suddenly, making everyone jolt. “He’ll die if we fight further.”

Killua could only sigh in relief before slipping into unconsciousness.

The referee hesitated, then raised his hand.

“Winner: Killua!”

Kyra turned and strolled back to the sidelines as medics rushed in to take Killua to the infirmary. Staff members hurried to clean up the bloodstains.

“I wanted to fight him.”

Kyra glanced at Illumi, whose expression was as blank as ever—but there was something almost pouty in his tone.

She smirked. “Too bad. He turned out to be more fun than I expected, so I played with him just a little.” She stretched. “But it’s you and me next round, so feel free to take it out on me then.”

Illumi’s dark eyes locked onto hers.

“I will,” he promised, voice low and cold.

Kyra only grinned.

~

"Next match: Kyra vs. Gittarackur!" the referee announced.

Kyra stepped forward, her nodachi at her side. Against Illumi, she would need it.

He stood opposite her, watching. He had seen how she fought his brother. How she challenged him again and again. And now, she was challenging him again .

Arms crossed, crimson eyes locked onto his, she dared him to hold back.

He wouldn’t.

One by one, Illumi removed his pins, discarding his disguise. He didn’t need it anymore.

Kyra watched, fascinated, as his face contorted back into its true form—pale, emotionless, sharp. The pointed chin, the high cheekbones, the striking contrast of round, blank black eyes.

Maybe I just have crap taste in men, she thought, but Illumi is undeniably handsome.

“I’ll kill you,” Illumi stated, voice as flat and emotionless as his face.

“You’re welcome to try,” Kyra challenged, withdrawing her sword from its sheath—then tossing the sheath aside.

No one else might have noticed it, but she did.

That flicker in his eyes.

The slightest shift in his stare.

He wants the challenge of the hunt.

“Very well then,” Illumi said.

"Begin!" the referee called, dropping his hand.

The fight exploded into motion.

A blur of steel. A flurry of strikes. So fast that most watching couldn’t keep up— even the referee struggled to see what was happening.

But Hisoka could.

To him, it was a dance.

A flash of pale blond hair as Kyra dodged.

A glint of silver as her sword sliced through inky black strands.

A game of give and take.

She would strike—he would take it, only to counter with his knife-like hands. But she was always a step ahead. Dodging. Blocking. Countering.

The longer it went on, the more Illumi found himself enjoying it.

The thrill of the chase. The push and pull. The exhilaration of the hunt.

He was having fun.

Kyra felt the same.

At every step, he forced her to be faster, sharper—to stay just out of his reach. Not just to survive, but to keep the game going.

We could do this forever, she thought.

But there was an exam to win.

And Illumi should have seen it coming.

Kyra disappeared from his sight.

A split-second later— CRACK.

The blunt side of her blade struck, blindsiding him.

Illumi hit the ground hard, his vision spinning.

When it cleared, she was standing over him, sword at his throat.

His hunt was over.

“Give up,” she commanded, her red eyes blazing.

And then—

“Marry me.”

The words left his lips before he could even think about them.

Silence.

Kyra blinked.

The audience staired.

Even Illumi himself seemed momentarily stunned, as if still trying to process where those words had come from.

A long pause.

Finally, Kyra smirked. "Surrender, and I will."

Illumi didn’t hesitate. “Sure. I give.”

The silence shattered.

The first to react—of all people—was Hisoka.

He clapped, smirking playfully. “Congratulations~ I hope you’ll consider me for the best man, Illumi~”

The referee jolted out of his daze.

“Uh—the winner is Kyra!” he announced, officially ending the match.

~

The next match began immediately.

Leorio vs. Bodoro.

Perhaps surprisingly, Leorio managed to pull off a win against the seasoned martial artist.

And then—

The final match.

Illumi vs. Bodoro.

“Try not to kill him, honey. It’d be embarrassing if I pass and you fail,” Kyra called from the sidelines.

Illumi twitched ever so slightly.

Kyra smirked. Gotcha.

“Yes, dear,” he replied, completely deadpan—throwing a term of endearment right back at her.

She took it in stride.

True to his word, Illumi got the old man to surrender without killing him.

With that, the Final Phase came to an end.

Chapter Text

The winners were escorted to a room for orientation.

Kyra wasn’t paying much attention.

She was busy planning her wedding.

After all, apparently, she was engaged now.

“I want a ring,” she said.

Illumi, seated beside her, didn’t even blink. “Naturally.”

“Nothing fancy. A big ring with a huge stone would just get in the way. A simple band works.”

“What about embedded stones? And what kind?”

“That’s fine. I don’t really care.”

Their casual discussion was cut short when the doors slammed open.

Gon stormed in.

His eyes locked onto Illumi.

“Where’s Killua?”

Illumi didn’t flinch. “He went home.”

“Apologize to him.”

“Apologize? For what?”

“You don’t even know what you did wrong?” Gon asked incredulously.

“Nope.”

Gon’s jaw clenched. “You don’t deserve to be his brother.”

Illumi tilted his head. “Must I earn the right to be his brother?”

Before anyone could process the words, Gon grabbed Illumi’s arm—and yanked him out of his seat.

Illumi landed effortlessly on his feet, but his eyes flickered with brief surprise.

“He doesn’t need to earn the right to be my friend,” Gon snapped, tightening his grip.

Kyra raised a brow. Oh?

Illumi was a trained assassin, but even he couldn’t completely ignore Gon’s strength.

“Don’t bother apologizing. Just take me to Killua.”

Illumi’s gaze stayed locked on him. “And then what?”

“That should be obvious.” Gon’s grip tightened. “I’m gonna rescue him.”

Illumi blinked. “You make it sound like I kidnapped him.”

“You did! ” Gon shot back. “Maybe not physically, but you manipulated him. It’s the same thing.”

A tense silence filled the room.

“Ahem.”

The chairman cleared his throat.

“Is everyone finished?” Netero asked, glancing around.

Gon let go of Illumi’s arm.

“Good.” Netero nodded to his secretary.

The small creature, Beans, stepped forward.

“Now, onto orientation,” he began. “The cards I’ve passed out are your Hunter Licenses. This card allows you to enter 90% of restricted countries and 75% of restricted areas worldwide.

It also provides free access to 95% of public facilities and a line of credit rivaling large corporations. If you sell it, you’ll have enough money to last seven lifetimes.

If you keep it, you’ll still live in comfort.

So take extra care that your license isn’t lost or stolen—you won’t receive a replacement.

According to our estimates, one in five Hunters lose their card within a year of receiving it.

As a Hunter, your first challenge is to protect your license.

The rest is up to you.

Rise above challenges, believe in your own strength, and fulfill your dreams.”

Beans finished his speech, and Netero smiled.

“With that, we officially declare the eight members here to be new Hunters!”

The orientation ended.

 ~

"Wait!"

Gon caught up to Illumi and Kyra as they were leaving.

“Tell me where Killua is.”

Illumi glanced at him. “Are you really going to take him away? That’s a bad idea.”

“I don’t care what you think!” Gon shot back. “Killua is my friend. I’m taking him with me.”

Illumi’s gaze was unreadable. “Do they feel the same way?”

Kurapika and Leorio stepped forward.

“You bet,” Leorio said firmly.

Illumi sighed. “I doubt you’ll even make it there, but I already told you. He went home.”

“And where is that?”

“Kukuroo Mountain,” Illumi answered. “Our family lives at the very top.”

“Got it. Thanks.” Gon turned, already set on his mission.

As they walked away, a figure stepped out from behind a pillar.

Hisoka.

“Illumi,” he drawled, smirking. “Is it really wise for an assassin to give away his base of operations?”

“Sure,” Illumi replied. “It isn’t a secret. The locals all know where we live. Not that it matters. They’ll understand soon enough. We live in completely different worlds.”

Hisoka’s sharp eyes caught something.

Illumi’s arm.

It was bruising—badly.

“Oh?” Hisoka’s smirk widened. “That’s broken, isn’t it?”

Illumi examined his arm, flexing his fingers.

“Yep.”

Hisoka chuckled. “Incredible, isn’t he? Now you see why I want to watch him grow.”

Illumi didn’t deny it. He glanced back at Gon’s retreating figure.

“Yeah.”

Kyra grabbed Illumi’s uninjured arm.

“Alright, enough standing around. You, mister, have a broken arm that needs tending to.”

She started dragging him toward the infirmary.

Illumi deadpanned, completely monotone, said “Wow. What a doting wife I have. Lucky~.”

Kyra didn’t even falter, “Fiancé,” she corrected.

Hisoka’s laughter echoed behind them.

~

“Done. What’s next, dear?” Kyra asked, finishing her work.

Illumi inspected the bandages carefully. Her work was impeccable .

“Hmm…” He hummed, tilting his head. “I suppose I should introduce you to my parents.”

Kyra shrugged. “Works for me.”

A brief pause. Then—

“By the way,” Illumi asked, “do you have parents?”

Kyra leaned back slightly. “Technically, yes. But they’re likely dead.”

Illumi blinked.

“My brother and I grew up on the streets,” she continued. “As he tells it, they were abusive, so he ran off with me when I was little.”

“That’s… deeply personal,” Illumi noted. “I doubt you’d share that with just anyone.”

“True,” Kyra admitted. “But you’re not just anyone anymore. You’re to be my husband.”

Illumi’s expression remained unreadable.

“If I’ve learned anything,” she added, “it’s that keeping secrets from your spouse is a sure way to die.”

He nodded slightly. “That’s good. I wouldn’t want you keeping secrets anyway.”

“Glad we’re on the same page,” Kyra said. “But it goes both ways. I don’t care if you’re on a mission to assassinate a king—you tell me about it.”

Illumi considered this for a moment.

“Alright.”

He nodded.

Kyra smirked. “Good. Now, let’s go meet the in-laws.”

~

Kyra found herself strangely at ease sitting beside probably the deadliest assassin in the world. Their conversation flowed naturally—wedding plans, their pasts, and whatever other topics came up—as if they were any other couple.

The journey to Kukuroo Mountain went by in a blink. Illumi knew the fastest way home, after all.

At the foot of the mountain, Kyra stared up at the towering metal gate. It looked impossibly heavy, yet Illumi pushed it open with ease— even with one hand .

“After you,” he said, holding the gate for her.

Kyra smirked. “My, such a gentleman. Lucky me.” She walked through without hesitation.

The gravel road stretched into the dense forest, but she wasn’t worried. She could handle anything that came their way. And besides, she was with him .

A rustling in the bushes.

“Stay close,” Illumi murmured.

Kyra stepped closer, intertwining her fingers with his. His hand was cold, large, deadly. The hand of a killer. But that didn’t bother her.

Illumi glanced at their joined hands, surprised by her easy act of affection.

Then, from the shadows, a massive black dog-like creature emerged. Its beady black eyes fixed on them. It sniffed the air—then gave a loud sneeze before slinking back into the forest.

“That was Mike, our guard dog,” Illumi explained, continuing forward without releasing her hand.

Kyra chuckled. “He’s cute.”

“I guess.”

They walked in comfortable silence until a butler appeared in the middle of the road. A young girl, bowing gracefully.

“Master Illumi, welcome home,” she greeted. Her gaze flickered to Kyra. “I see you have brought guests. Shall I alert the household?”

“Sure. Tell them I’m bringing my fiancée,” Illumi said casually, walking past.

The girl froze. “A-a-as you wish, Master.”

Kyra smirked. “You did that on purpose.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Illumi replied, feigning innocence.

Hand in hand, they continued. Until, finally, they arrived at a lavish mansion hidden deep within the woods. Another butler—a man this time—stood at the entrance, waiting.

“Welcome home, Master Illumi. Your parents would like to speak with you both in the drawing room.”

Illumi nodded. “Understood.”

They entered the mansion, passing through rows of bowing servants. He led the way into a grand drawing room where two figures awaited—a towering, muscled man with sharp blue eyes and white hair, and a woman wrapped in bandages, her expression unreadable.

A table was set with tea and snacks.

Illumi took a seat across from them, and Kyra followed suit, her posture relaxed but alert. She didn’t speak— not yet . She had learned long ago that silence could be as powerful as words.

“Welcome home, Illumi,” the man—his father—spoke first.

“I’m home.”

His father’s gaze flickered to Kyra. “Now, what’s this about a fiancée?”

Illumi shrugged. “It just sort of happened.”

His father turned his piercing gaze to her. “Is that how it is?”

“Yes,” Kyra answered simply.

“No ulterior motive?”

“No.”

A pause. Then—

“Excellent. Let’s all relax and get to know each other,” the woman, Illumi’s mother, said smoothly. “I’m Kikyo, his mother, and this is Silva, his father.”

Kyra inclined her head politely. “It’s lovely to meet you. I’m Kyra.”

“Have you been planning the wedding?” Kikyo asked, sipping from her tea.

“We have. No date yet,” Kyra answered, following her lead. The tea had a strange aftertaste. Poison. Figures. She had tasted worse.

Kikyo’s sharp eyes flickered with intrigue. “Well, aren’t you something. Don’t you think so, dear?”

“Hmph,” Silva grunted, not touching his own tea. “I suppose.” His gaze returned to Illumi. “Tell me. Why her ?”

Illumi glanced at Kyra. “She challenges me.”

“How so?”

Illumi leaned back slightly. “I could explain, but I think it’d be easier to show you. I don’t doubt she’ll keep up.”

Kyra smirked. “As you’ll recall, you’re the one who has trouble keeping up.”

Illumi bristled slightly.

Silva watched them closely, his expression unreadable. This girl was a complete stranger. She didn’t look exceptionally strong. And yet, she had caught his son’s attention. That spoke volumes.

“Very well,” Silva said. “I approve.”

Kikyo tensed. “But dear—”

Silva’s gaze cut to her. “Are you questioning me?”

Kikyo stiffened. “No, dear.”

Kyra watched, sharp-eyed. What an interesting family.

Illumi leaned closer to her and murmured, “Mother is a worrier. Say you’ll take a test. You’ll pass.”

“If it’ll ease your worries, ma’am, I’m willing to take any test you wish,” Kyra said smoothly.

Kikyo’s lips curled into a sly smile. “A test? Ah, perfect. ”

She clapped her hands. “Gotoh.”

A butler appeared instantly, bowing.

“Administer the test.”

Gotoh turned to Kyra. “It is simple—follow the coin.”

Kyra nearly laughed. This? She had seen this con run countless times on the streets. Hell, she had run it herself.

Gotoh and the other butlers shuffled the coins—faster and faster. But Kyra answered correctly every time , without hesitation.

Kikyo narrowed her eyes. “One more.”

Gotoh shuffled again. But this time, as the coins moved, an idea struck Kyra.

When Gotoh finally stopped, she answered confidently.

But when the correct butler opened his hands—

The coin was gone.

Gasps filled the room.

“Impossible!” the butler stammered. “I—I didn’t lose it! I swear, Gotoh, I didn’t—”

A soft clink.

Kyra held up the missing coin, rolling it smoothly between her fingers.

Silence.

Even Silva and Kikyo looked intrigued. None of them— not even them —had seen her take it.

Kyra smirked. “Looking for this?”

A ripple of shock went through the room.

Illumi looked at her, his usual blank expression betraying the faintest trace of amusement.

Kikyo studied her closely, then let out a soft chuckle. “Very well. I suppose you’ve proven yourself.”

She set down her teacup. “I approve.”

Kyra tossed the coin back to Gotoh.

“Excellent,” she said, smiling. “Thank you for the warm welcome.”

They discussed a few more details over tea before Illumi rose from his seat.

“Shall we?” he asked.

Kyra stood. “We shall.”

They left, hand in hand. Behind them, Silva watched in silence.

And smirked.

His son had found the perfect wife to continue their legacy—all on his own.

As expected.

~

With his parents' approval, Illumi introduced Kyra to the rest of his family as well.

Starting with his grandfather Zeno, whom he found in another room mulling over a shogi board.

“Grandfather, I’d like you to meet Kyra, my fiancée,” Illumi introduced, gesturing to her as Zeno’s sharp blue eyes flickered to her.

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Kyra said with a polite bow.

“Fiancée, you say? She doesn’t look like much,” Zeno mused, stroking his long white mustache.

Illumi’s eyes flickered to the shogi board in front of his grandfather and then to Kyra, asking a silent question.

Kyra nodded her head in agreement.

“Then, perhaps a game of Shogi? If she wins, you’ll give your approval,” Illumi suggested.

“And? If she loses?” Zeno asked.

“You’re welcome to do whatever you like, even kill me. Or try to at least.” Kyra smirked.

Oh ho. Zeno was starting to see why she had caught Illumi’s eye. Challenging him like that was certainly bold.

“Very well then. Best two out of three wins.” Zeno gestured to the seat opposite him.

“I only need one.” Kyra took the offered seat, and the game began.

Turn after turn, Zeno used every strategy he knew—even cheated—but Kyra always remained a step ahead, and in the end, she won.

Zeno chuckled, looking at the board—her victory was clear.

“I’ve lost. Welcome to the family, Kyra,” he said.

“Thank you.” Kyra bowed as she left with Illumi.

~

Next were his brothers, Milluki, Killua, and Kalluto, whom he found all together in the torture dungeon—whipping Killua.

Well, Milluki was the one doing the whipping, still furious about being stabbed by Killua.

“You little brat! I’ll show you!” Milluki yelled as he swung the whip.

Killua hung from the chains on the wall, completely unfazed even as the whip left bleeding marks behind.

“Oh good, you’re all here,” Illumi said, walking into the room with Kyra following behind him.

“You?!” Killua exclaimed, noticing Kyra.

“Big brother Illumi, who’s this?” Milluki asked, eyeing Kyra, ignoring Killua.

“This is Kyra, my fiancée,” Illumi replied.

“Kyra, you’ve met Kil. The fatass is Milluki—he’s useful with computers; otherwise, we’d kill him. And Kalluto, the youngest.”

“Hello,” Kyra simply said, greeting each with a small incline of her head.

“Hmph.” Milluki just huffed and turned away, whipping Killua again.

“Hello.” Kalluto greeted in a quiet voice, returning a small nod.

“Hey. Just so you know, I’m gonna get stronger. Then I want a rematch,” Killua said, unbothered by the whip.

“Sure, bring it on at any time,” Kyra replied.

“Well then, moving on.” Illumi led Kyra away.

~

As they walked through the maze-like halls of the mansion, Illumi spoke up.

“I should warn you—we normally keep Alluka a secret, but since you’re joining the family, I suppose it’s okay for you to meet her.”

“All right, but I’m guessing that’s not all,” Kyra said.

“Right. Alluka has a condition. She was possessed by something when she was young. We don’t know how or exactly when, but ever since, whenever someone fulfills three of her requests, something appears and grants a wish. The greater the wish, the greater the consequences. And the harder the wish is to fulfill, the harsher the requests. You can’t deny her requests, or you and everyone you love will be destroyed.”

“Got it.” Kyra nodded, but her mind was already whirling with countermeasures. Requests are not commands. If they can’t be denied, I simply need to circumvent the nature of the request. It's also likely there are rules that they aren't aware of, I need to figure them out.

“I should also mention that her last wish was granting Milluki a new computer, so I doubt the request will be too hard,” Illumi added as they reached a thick vault door.

“Okay.” Kyra nodded.

Unlocking the thick vault door, Illumi peered inside to see Alluka tossing a ball to herself.

“Alluka, I’d like you to meet someone,” he said.

“Sure, big brother,” Alluka replied, monotoned and almost bored.

As Kyra stepped in, Illumi felt a tightness in his chest watching her. This was… worry. He was worried for her.

“Hello, I’m Kyra.” She introduced herself.

“Hmm.” Alluka hummed, not turning from playing with her ball.

“Playing with that ball all by yourself must be pretty lonesome. I could join you if you’d like,” Kyra offered.

“Really?!” Alluka turned to her, brightening with a big smile.

“Yeah.” Kyra nodded, returning her smile.

Tossing the ball back and forth as she got to know her, Kyra realized that by all miracles, Alluka was somehow a completely normal kid—so far, at least.

“Hey, toss me the ball real hard! I can catch it,” Alluka said.

There was the first request.

Illumi tensed.

“Okay.” Kyra easily agreed. She took a pitcher’s stance and threw the ball with all her might. The rubber ball flew like a missile at the child, but Alluka easily caught it—she was still a Zoldyck, after all.

“That was so much fun!” Alluka laughed. “Okay, next—braid my hair!” she requested.

“All right, but how do you want it braided? I know lots of styles,” Kyra said.

She noticed how Alluka paused at that, as if she hadn’t expected someone to go above and beyond for her request.

“Uhm… prettily?” Alluka replied, unsure.

“Okay.” Kyra shrugged and sat on the floor. “Come here.”

Alluka followed the request and sat down in front of Kyra.

As she braided Alluka’s hair, Kyra continued asking her about herself, telling her things about herself in return. She essentially delayed the next request with requests of her own—simple questions like her favorite color and the like.

Kyra smirked to herself. She was already figuring out that Alluka’s requests followed rules that could be bent—and bend them she would.

“Done.” Kyra let Alluka see her braid work.

“Wow. Pretty.” The child was in awe. “Thanks.” She smiled.

“You’re welcome.” Kyra returned her smile.

“Hey, hey, I can’t think of anything else. So what do you want?”

Kyra’s sharp instincts immediately caught the shift in Alluka’s Nen.

This wasn’t Alluka asking—it was Nanika.

Kyra played innocent. “Something that I want? You’ve already done so much for me.”

“It’s fine. Just tell me,” the creature insisted.

“Alrighty then.” Kyra’s smirk sharpened. “Give me an object that cannot exist.”

The creature paused. Alluka’s face shifted. Tears filled her eyes as she frowned.

“I… I can’t do that,” Nanika whimpered.

“Too bad. I want it. If you can’t do it, then just leave for good.” Kyra’s tone was calm, but firm.

“Kay.” The creature replied simply.

Kyra sensed its presence leaving Alluka as her face returned to normal.

Alluka pouted, crying to herself. “Nanika left… I’m gonna be lonely now.”

“Hey, no, it’s okay. I’ll be your friend,” Kyra reassured her, patting her head.

“Really?” The girl asked.

“Yeah. And you have all your big brothers as friends too. Isn’t that right, Illumi?” Kyra turned to him.

Alluka’s eyes, still shining with tears, turned to her eldest brother.

Illumi normally would have said no. But Kyra’s gaze burned into him, daring him to deny this poor girl some familial interaction.

“…Sure.” He replied flatly, then—at Kyra’s silent urging—patted Alluka’s head.

“Yay!” Alluka cheered.

~

Illumi and Kyra left Alluka after spending a little while longer with her, confirming that the creature had truly vanished. When she made requests and nothing happened if they were refused or even fulfilled three times, it was clear Nanika was gone for good.

They met up with his parents once more, and Illumi relayed what had happened.

Silva was beyond pleased. Kyra had turned out to be far more useful than he had anticipated—her intelligence and quick thinking would be a great asset to the family.

Kikyo, however, was less enthusiastic. "Oh dear, how are we supposed to interact with that child now?" she fretted, wringing her hands.

Kyra arched her brow. "Just pat her on the head and tell her she’s been good. It’s not that complicated to be a decent mother."

Kikyo stiffened, eyes narrowing. "Are you suggesting I’ve been a bad mother?!" she screeched.

Kyra didn’t reply. She had never known her own parents, but she had seen enough—both good and bad—to recognize the difference.

Silva huffed, cutting off Kikyo’s outburst. "No matter. You’ve exceeded expectations, Kyra," he said, his sharp gaze approving.

"Thank you, sir," Kyra replied with a respectful nod.

Illumi took her hand. "We’ll be off, then."

Kikyo quickly composed herself, plastering on a smile. "Stay in contact, dear~" she called, waving as they left.

~

“Your family is… quite intense,” Kyra remarked as they walked down the gravel road.

“Scared?” Illumi asked.

“Intrigued,” she replied with a smirk.

They continued in silence, hand in hand, side by side. The cool night air was still, the only sound was the quiet crunch of gravel beneath their steps.

After a moment, Kyra spoke again. “Say, why did you ask me to marry you?”

Illumi hummed in thought. Truthfully, it was still a mystery—even to him—why those words had slipped from his mouth. But after a moment, he answered, “I suppose I just enjoyed chasing you. I never wanted it to end.” He glanced at her. “Why did you agree?”

Kyra smiled, recalling their battle. “I had fun being chased.”

Illumi looked down at their joined hands. Hers fit perfectly in his—smaller, but warm, strong, just as deadly. They had lived vastly different lives, yet somehow, they were… compatible.

“Then I’ll keep chasing if you keep running,” he decided.

“And I’ll keep running if you keep chasing,” she agreed.

~

“I suppose this is where we part ways,” Kyra said, standing opposite Illumi at the airport.

“For now,” he replied. His expression remained impassive, but deep down, he couldn’t ignore the strange feeling that he would miss her.

“For now,” Kyra echoed with a small nod. She’d miss him too, but he had a job to do, and she had a manhunt to begin. Besides, they had already exchanged contact information—calls, texts, or even tracking each other down wouldn’t be that difficult.

“Well then… good—” Illumi began, but before he could finish, Kyra grabbed his collar and pulled him down into a kiss.

For the first time in a long while, Illumi was caught off guard. His body tensed as her lips pressed against his—warm, insistent, inviting. It took him a moment to respond, but as she melted into him, urging him forward, something within him shifted. Slowly, stiffly, he raised a hand to her hip and kissed her back.

When Kyra finally pulled away, slightly breathless, she met his dark, unreadable eyes. “See you again,” she murmured.

“Right.” Illumi nodded. Then, in an unexpected moment of instinct, he leaned in and placed a quick, lingering peck on her lips before turning to leave.

As he walked away, his body tingled, his heart racing in a way he didn’t quite understand. Whatever that was… he wanted more of it.

Kyra watched him disappear into the crowd before turning on her heel and heading off on her own.

Chapter Text

Over the next week, Kyra and Illumi found themselves in constant contact, texting or calling at least once a day. Sometimes it was for practical reasons—sharing information, discussing jobs—but other times, it was simply because one of them had something to say.

One of their more interesting conversations revolved around the secret second Hunter Exam, where Hunters determined whether a candidate could use Nen. Since both Kyra and Illumi had already mastered Nen, they were already qualified.

Illumi had efficiently completed his latest job and was already onto the next. Meanwhile, Kyra was still chasing blind leads and whispers, trying—and failing—to track down her brother.

Today, however, their paths converged once more in a city known for romance. Illumi had arranged a dinner date at a high-end restaurant, and while Kyra doubted he cared much about appearances, she still felt obligated to dress to impress. Hopefully, he felt the same.

Money wasn’t an issue—between her savings and the wealth she had already accumulated as a Hunter, she could afford whatever she wanted. The real challenge was finding the right dress.

She knew one thing: it had to be red. The color would bring out her eyes, and more importantly, it would look as though she were draped in blood—something she was sure the assassin would appreciate.

The city’s fashion district was packed with boutiques, ranging from high-end designers to secondhand stores. Kyra didn’t have time for a tailor, so she combed through the racks, searching for something that felt right.

Most dresses were either too extravagant or too plain, until she stumbled across a hidden gem in a secondhand store’s bargain section. It was a deep crimson, with thin shoulder straps and an open back that pooled at her hips. The neckline dipped low, subtly highlighting her chest, while the hemline—just above the knees—allowed for both elegance and maneuverability. It was wrinkled and slightly dusty, but nothing a good cleaning wouldn’t fix.

Satisfied with her find, she paid for it, then she dropped the dress off at a dry cleaner before hunting down the perfect accessories. A pair of red high heels, ruby-and-gold jewelry, and a stop at a salon to have her nails and makeup done completed the ensemble.

By the time she returned to her hotel room, she only needed to apply the finishing touches. A quick cleanup of her makeup, a spritz of perfume, and a final adjustment to her hair—then she was ready.

Arriving at the restaurant by taxi, Kyra stepped out and immediately spotted Illumi waiting for her.

He was dressed in a sharp black suit, his dark blue dress shirt left slightly undone—three buttons loose at the top, exposing just enough of his well-toned chest to be enticing.

She felt a small flush rise to her cheeks but masked it with a smirk as she approached.

Illumi’s dark eyes locked onto her, scanning her from head to toe. His expression remained unreadable, but she could tell he was taken aback.

“Ready to go?” he asked, taking her hand.

“What? No compliments? How rude,” Kyra teased.

“You’re beautiful,” he said flatly. “Now let’s move on.”

Kyra chuckled. “Yeah, yeah.”

Allowing him to lead the way, she felt an unusual warmth spread through her chest. Maybe this date would be more interesting than she thought.

~

Kyra once again found herself contemplating the strangeness of her situation—sitting across from a deadly assassin, completely at ease. Then again, she wasn’t any less dangerous.

The waiter stood beside their table, pen poised over his notepad, completely unaware of the lethal nature of his guests.

“What will you be having today?” he asked politely.

Kyra scanned the menu, listing off whatever caught her interest.

“For appetizers: seared scallops. Seafood: oysters on the half shell. Pasta dish: black truffle ravioli. Main course: mushroom-sautéed steak, medium rare. Dessert: dark chocolate soufflé. And for the mignardises, macarons. I’ll take whatever wine is recommended.” She closed her menu with a satisfied nod.

Illumi followed with his order, similarly efficient, only slightly adjusting a few choices from hers.

The waiter jotted everything down without missing a beat.

“Please help yourselves with our selection of tonight's amuse-bouche. Your dinner will be served shortly.” With a bow, he departed.

Illumi barely spared him another glance before setting a small black box on the table between them.

Kyra arched her brow but reached for it, flipping it open. Inside sat a ring—a simple gold band with a large ruby in the center, encircled by tiny diamonds.

She turned it between her fingers, watching the way the gem caught the candlelight.

“It’s nice. Thank you,” she said, slipping it onto her left ring finger without hesitation.

“I tried finding one in a store, but nothing was good enough,” Illumi said flatly. “When I saw this ring on my target’s finger, I knew it would be perfect. So I killed them and took it.”

Kyra smirked, rolling the ring on her finger as she admired it. “Aw, how sweet of you to think of me even while on the job. I also appreciate you not making a public spectacle out of this.”

“I already asked you.”

“That you did.” Kyra glanced at the ring again, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Illumi watched her carefully. He had not expected her to accept so easily. He had not expected much of anything, really. But there was a warmth in his chest as she admired the ring—something foreign, something strange. He was used to control, to calculated precision. But Kyra was unpredictable. Even when he thought he had caught her, she found a way to slip through his grasp, teasing, daring him to chase.

He liked chasing.

Just then, the waiter returned. “Here are your appetizers. Please enjoy.” He set their plates down and departed just as smoothly as before.

Illumi picked up his utensils and began eating with practiced efficiency. Yet, as he glanced up, he caught Kyra watching him, something thoughtful flickering in her gaze.

She was always watching. Studying. Calculating, much like he did. But there was a different kind of intent in her stare tonight.

It unsettled him.

“Say… have you ever used seduction tactics?” Kyra asked suddenly, her voice laced with amusement.

Illumi blinked once, pausing mid-cut. “What do you mean?”

Kyra leaned forward slightly, her voice dipping into something softer, silkier. “Come now, surely you get it. Lure a target in, get them vulnerable, strip them of everything… even concealed weapons. Then, just as their guard is at its lowest—you strike~.” She rolled a shoulder, her smirk playful, sultry, as if she were testing him.

Illumi’s fingers briefly twitched against his knife. He felt something shift, something unfamiliar—like a tripwire had been set off without his consent.

He had faced countless enemies, seen every trick in the book. But Kyra wasn’t an enemy. And this… this was not an attack.

It was something else.

“I haven’t,” he answered finally, voice steady. “Such tactics are inefficient.”

“Perhaps,” Kyra conceded, slowly running the tip of her foot along his leg beneath the table. “But they aren’t ineffective.”

Illumi kept his face impassive, but his grip on his utensils tightened minutely.

This was different. He had trained his body to resist pain, fatigue, even poison. But this was something else entirely—something he had not trained for, something beyond logic.

And yet, he did not pull away.

As dinner continued, Kyra tested him in small, almost imperceptible ways—her fingers brushing his wrist as she reached for her wine, the slow, deliberate way she licked a bit of chocolate from her spoon, the teasing glances from beneath her lashes.

Each act was subtle. Each one chipped away at his carefully maintained control.

By the end of the meal, Illumi was wound so tight he nearly forgot to pay before rising abruptly from his seat. He had no interest in remaining in this restaurant any longer.

Kyra barely had time to smirk before he took her hand and led her out, his grip firm, unyielding.

He was done waiting.

Chapter Text

The next four months passed in a strange yet steady rhythm—calls and texts, the occasional date whenever their respective jobs brought them to the same city.

And all the while, Kyra planned the wedding.

She had every detail arranged, coordinating with Illumi to set the date: August 18th. The logistics were precise, the venue secured, the guest list—minimal. Neither of them had many people to invite.

But she had sent a message to her brother.

If Kite wouldn’t come even to her wedding, she’d track him down and knock some sense into him.

~

The ceremony was set in a hidden valley, a place Kyra had found in her youth. Red chrysanthemums stretched as far as the eye could see, framing the stark beauty of a dead cherry tree standing solemn at the center.

The seating arrangement was simple—white chairs arranged in two small rows, single digits in number. On Kyra’s side, only one chair was set.

Further from the ceremony site, a large white tent served as the reception hall. Inside, Kyra was getting ready, while Illumi prepared in another section of the tent. Most of his family had already arrived.

Kyra ran her fingers along the fine white silk of her dress, her eyes shadowed with something unspoken. Melancholy? Longing?

It wasn’t looking like her brother was coming after all.

Shaking off the thought, she carefully stepped into the dress, the corset-style bodice hugging her form while beaded embellishments shimmered in the dim light. The fabric flowed down gracefully, neither too restrictive nor too extravagant.

She looked beautiful. She felt beautiful.

And yet, something felt incomplete.

The tent flap rustled.

Her heart leaped against her ribs as she turned—expecting, hoping—

And there he was.

Kite.

He stood in the entrance, unchanged yet different. Still tall, still lithe, the same blue hat shadowing his face. But his eyes—his striking blue eyes—had hardened, tempered by time and experience.

Yet, as they held each other’s gaze, his expression softened, and for the first time in years, he looked like the brother she remembered.

“Kyra,” he said.

His voice was deeper now, rougher, but still undeniably his.

“Kite,” she whispered, her throat tightening, eyes stinging with unshed tears.

Then, before the emotions could overwhelm her, she forced a smirk. “Geez, give a girl some warning before you pop out of the blue.”

He chuckled—a low, familiar sound—and reached out to rest a hand on her head, ruffling her carefully styled hair.

“I’m sorry for disappearing,” he murmured. “It’s good to see you, little sister.”

Kyra sniffled, leaning into his touch. “I was worried you wouldn’t come.”

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” His lips twitched into a half-smile before he huffed a quiet laugh. “My little sister. Getting married. To an assassin of all things.”

Kyra grinned, wiping at the corner of her eye. “Hey, what we have is… well, it’s something, alright.”

They laughed together—light, unguarded, years of distance momentarily forgotten.

There was so much she wanted to ask him. Why did he leave? Why he never reached out. But none of it mattered now. Right now, he is here. That was enough.

And as much as Kite wanted to explain himself, now wasn’t the time.

Now, he was here to walk his sister down the aisle.

~

The moment Kite escorted Kyra out of the tent, the Zoldyck family took notice.

A stranger, yet not quite.

There was an undeniable resemblance between the two, enough to quiet any potential objections. Still, Kite could feel their piercing gazes, silently assessing his presence.

He leaned toward Kyra with a smirk. “Your in-laws looked like they wanted to kill me for a second there.”

“They still might,” she teased.

At the end of the aisle, Illumi stood by the dead cherry tree, watching Kyra approach.

For once, he could not suppress his reaction.

She looked—

There was no word for it.

He had always found her compelling. Fascinating. Worth chasing. But in that moment, something deep in his chest twisted, an unfamiliar feeling clawing its way to the surface.

She was stunning.

More than that—she was his.

As Kite handed Kyra over, the two men locked eyes.

For a moment, they stood in silent contest, measuring one another through Nen alone.

Then, after a beat, Kite relented. Whatever misgivings he had, whatever reservations, they meant nothing compared to Kyra’s happiness.

Illumi nodded once, accepting her hand.

The ceremony proceeded without issue. Both Kyra and the entirety of the Zoldyck family had ensured the officiant was legitimate—yet disposable, should the need arise. But given that everything was proceeding smoothly, it seemed the officiant valued their life.

“The bride and groom have written their own vows,” the officiant announced.

Kyra turned to Illumi, her expression playful, yet sincere. “We’re treading old ground here, but I felt affirming our promise as wedding vows would be appropriate. So—” She held his gaze. “I promise to keep running away if you promise to keep chasing.”

Illumi’s grip on her hand tightened ever so slightly. “Then, I promise to keep chasing if you keep running away.”

A promise.

A vow.

A hunt that would never end.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the officiant declared. “You may kiss the bride.”

Illumi didn’t hesitate.

He pulled her close, tilting her head up as his lips met hers.

It was different from before.

Not a calculated action, not a mere response to stimulus.

This—

This was instinct.

And for the first time, Illumi thought he might have finally caught her.

But then Kyra smirked against his lips.

And he realized—

No.

She had let herself be caught.

For now.

~

The reception was underway, and despite the small guest count, there was an amicable air in the tent as the Zoldycks conversed among themselves—about whatever it was that a family of assassins discussed. Kyra had seen Kite slip away at some point, but she was simply glad he had shown up at all.

“Illumi-chan~”

A purring voice echoed through the space as Hisoka sauntered toward the newlyweds, an all-too-familiar smirk stretching across his lips.

“How could you forget to invite little ol’ me?” he mused, tilting his head dramatically. “Did you forget about your best man ?”

“Oh, I did,” Illumi deadpanned.

“I’m hurt, truly.” Hisoka said, placing a hand over his heart as if truly wounded.

Illumi frowned. “How did you even find this place?” He glanced over at Kyra, who simply shrugged in response.

“I have my ways~” Hisoka purred, casting a knowing glance toward the officiant.

Kyra sighed. They really should have seen that coming. At least it was only Hisoka.

“Well, now that you’re here, what do you want?” she asked flatly.

“So cold~” Hisoka tutted, before his golden eyes gleamed with amusement. “I only came to give my congratulations! Oh, and—” He suddenly clapped his hands together. “A speech, of course! What kind of best man would I be if I didn’t share a few heartfelt words?”

Illumi visibly stiffened. “That isn’t necessary.”

“Oh, but it is ,” Hisoka said, stepping forward. “Everyone, if I may~”

A few heads turned, some more annoyed than interested, but Hisoka hardly cared. He picked up a glass of wine and raised it high.

“Illumi, my dear friend, I must say, I never thought I’d see the day. Marriage? My, my~” He grinned, gaze flicking between the bride and groom. “To find someone who can match you, who can keep up with you… Well, it’s no small feat.”

Hisoka’s eyes landed on Kyra, assessing, intrigued. “And Kyra~ what a fiery bride you make. I must admit, I was dying to see who could possibly tame dear Illumi.” He chuckled. “But then I realized… you wouldn’t tame him at all, would you? No, no. You’d run —and he’d chase, and you’d both love every second of it.”

He swirled his wine lazily, lips curling into a smirk. “So, to the bride and groom, may your hunt never end~”

Kyra rolled her eyes but smirked nonetheless. Illumi, meanwhile, merely blinked at Hisoka, unimpressed.

“Thank you. You can go now,” Kyra said, already sipping her drink.

“Yeah, yeah~” Hisoka waved dramatically before strolling away, whistling to himself.

With Hisoka gone—for now—the reception returned to its usual atmosphere. The evening stretched on, the chatter softening as glasses clinked and meals were enjoyed.

Then, as the music shifted into a slower melody, Kyra turned toward Illumi with a teasing glint in her eye.

“Dance with me?”

Illumi blinked. “I don’t dance.”

Kyra smirked, grabbing his hand. “Then let me lead.”

Before he could protest, she pulled him onto the dance floor. Though his body was as stiff as a board at first, Kyra coaxed him into movement, guiding him in slow, easy steps.

“You’re supposed to relax,” she teased.

“This is inefficient,” Illumi muttered, but his grip on her waist softened slightly.

“It’s a dance, not an assassination.”

Illumi hummed in thought. His hands—firm, precise—adjusted slightly, following her lead with more fluidity. Kyra watched him closely, taking in his intense, unreadable gaze.

“You’re staring,” she pointed out.

“I’m… studying.”

Kyra arched her brow. “Studying what?”

“How you move,” Illumi said simply. “You move differently when you’re not fighting.”

Kyra chuckled. “That’s because I’m dancing .”

“Hmm.”

For a moment, there was only the warmth of his hand in hers, the press of his palm against the small of her back. Then, in an unexpected shift, Illumi took control of the dance, reversing their roles with practiced ease.

Kyra raised a brow. “I thought you didn’t dance.”

“I learn quickly.”

Kyra laughed softly, allowing herself to be spun once before settling back into his arms.

Chapter Text

On September 3rd, Illumi told Kyra about a rather peculiar job. The Phantom Troupe’s leader, Chrollo Lucilfer, had hired him to assassinate the Ten Dons. The twist? He had to complete the job before his client was killed by Zeno and Silva, who had been hired by the Ten Dons to eliminate him.

At the time, Kyra was on a job of her own. Shortly after leaving Kukuroo Mountain months ago, Silva had contacted her with an assignment—already inducting her into the family business. She had completed it expertly, and since then, she had been working as an Assassin Hunter. That is, a Hunter who worked as an assassin—not one who hunted assassins.

She had also stayed in contact with her brother. Kite, now the leader of a group called the Amateur Hunters, had been pestering her to join them. She had yet to decide if she would.

A few days later, Illumi had yet another wild tale to share. Hisoka had reached out, asking him to act as his double for a while. It was almost as if he had gotten caught in the Spider’s web. Kyra wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up joining them.

As for herself, nothing particularly noteworthy had happened as she traveled from one job to the next. That was, until she decided to take a self-imposed vacation in Yorknew City—where things were about to get very interesting.

~

The Yorknew City Auction was still going strong, even in its final days, but Kyra wasn’t here to take part in it—at least not legitimately. If something happened to catch her eye, she could always steal it.

Word on the street was that the Phantom Troupe had attacked the underground auction and stolen everything, forcing its cancellation. A shame, really—there had been a few items she was interested in. Well, she could always track them down later. That said, there was no guarantee they weren’t fakes. It wasn’t far-fetched to believe someone had the ability to create copies, and if anyone did, it was probably one of the Spiders.

Still, the legitimate auction had a few interesting items up for grabs—Greed Island, for example. As she flipped through the catalog, sipping a chocolate milkshake through a straw, she debated whether it was worth the trouble.

Then, someone sat across from her.

He was an unassuming man in ordinary clothes, his black hair tied back by a scarf covering his forehead. But his gray, emotionless eyes held a depth of formidable strength and knowledge. A shiver ran through her.

I must have a type, Kyra thought, though outwardly, she didn’t acknowledge his presence.

“You’re quite formidable,” the man said, his voice smooth yet devoid of emotion.

I definitely have a type. Kyra sighed internally.

“What makes you say that?” she asked.

“For one thing, you’ve had your guard up since I appeared.”

Kyra finally glanced up. “You’re a strange man approaching a lone woman. I don’t know your intentions. Of course I’m on guard.”

The man chuckled. “And yet, you don’t seem worried.”

“Naturally. If I appeared weak, you wouldn’t hesitate to seize your chance.”

“You believe you would lose?”

“I don’t think I could win.”

The man tilted his head slightly. “And that’s somehow different?”

“There’s a world of difference between them,” Kyra replied smoothly. “Could, would. Win, lose, think, and believe. Differences matter. As they do with words. As it does Nen.”

For the first time, something shifted in his gaze. Like he hadn’t quite considered the depth of what she had just said. Then, he chuckled. “You’re most interesting. I’d like to hear more.”

“I’m always happy to debate as friends,” Kyra said, flipping another page in the catalog. “But if you’re here for more than that, I’m afraid I’m already a married woman.”

“A shame,” he said, standing. He placed a card on the table. “Let’s stay in touch regardless.”

Kyra reached for it after he left, her eyes widening.

A spider symbol. The number zero. Below it, a name—Chrollo Lucilfer.

And a number.

She quickly inputs both into her phone before destroying the card.

There were many ways to recruit someone, and even the Phantom Troupe had to use tactics beyond brute force. She just hadn’t expected this to be one of them.

It was bold. Deliberate. And she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was a hidden meaning behind Chrollo approaching her personally.

She shook her head. No point in dwelling on it. The only thing that truly mattered was the undeniable truth.

Chrollo Lucilfer was something alright.

Kyra took another sip of her milkshake.

I definitely have a type.

~

The next time Kyra and Illumi met for one of their occasional dates, she casually mentioned how the Phantom Troupe’s leader had approached her personally.

“I believe he wants to recruit me,” she said. “Though he hasn’t outright stated it. Not yet.”

Illumi’s expression remained neutral, but Kyra caught the almost imperceptible tightening of his jaw.

“You’ve been in contact with him?” he asked, his tone just a fraction too sharp.

Kyra smirked. Jealous?

“On occasion.”

Illumi’s fist clenched ever so slightly. “I think you should stop speaking to him.”

The moment the words left his lips, she felt it—a spike in his Nen. Her fingers snapped up, catching the tiny, near-invisible needle he’d launched at her. Its aura was minimal, nearly undetectable, but she still caught it.

Kyra frowned and sighed, disappointed. “I should have expected this from a Manipulator,” she said, rolling the needle between her fingers. “But that doesn’t make it any less disappointing that you actually tried it.”

She flicked the needle away, her gaze sharpening.

“I told you before—this is the one thing I’d instantly leave you for.”

Illumi froze.

She meant it.

She was supposed to stay just out of his reach, always one step ahead—never pushing away, never gone. But now… now he realized he was the one pushing her.

His fingers twitched. “Sorry,” he said at last.

His face remained impassive, his voice flat, but Kyra knew him well enough to see the truth in his eyes.

“Just don’t do it again,” she said, sighing as she let it go. But even as the moment passed, a lingering tension remained between them.

Illumi felt it.

And he had to fix it.

He hesitated—thinking, calculating—before finally reaching across the table, his fingers grazing over hers.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”

Kyra arched her brow. His voice had softened, and there was something deliberate in his touch. A spark in his dark eyes.

He was trying to seduce her into forgiveness.

How cute.

“No,” she said, playing along, curious just how much he had learned from her.

“You look as beautiful as the showering of blood from a fresh decapitation,” Illumi murmured, his fingers trailing up to cup her cheek.

Kyra’s lips curled into a smile. The words weren’t conventionally seductive—but neither of them were normal.

“Tell me more,” she purred, leaning into his touch.

Illumi’s thumb brushed against her skin. “As beautiful as the silver of your blade cutting through the throat.”

A shiver ran through her—pleasure, amusement, something deeper.

And so on it went.

Until it was Kyra who dragged him back to her hotel room.

Chapter Text

Kyra should have known something was bound to happen. Life had been going on as normal— too normal.

For weeks, she had kept in touch with Illumi and Chrollo, as well as her brother. There had been occasional dates with Illumi, surprise meetings with Chrollo, and the usual back-and-forth of her work.

When Kite left her a message saying he wouldn’t be able to contact her for a while, she felt a brief twinge of unease. Something about it seemed off , but she didn’t dwell on it.

She never imagined the next time she’d see her brother, it would be like that .

It all began with a phone call.

“Ah, hello. This is Netero,” a familiar voice greeted her. “I’d like to hire you as part of an extermination team.”

Kyra raised an eyebrow. “And how do I know this is legit?” she asked. It wasn’t exactly difficult to dig up her number, and she wasn’t foolish enough to walk into a potential enemy’s trap.

“Just come meet me at the border of NGL,” the man replied, then promptly hung up.

Kyra frowned, staring at her phone. Rude.

A second later, her phone beeped. A text appeared with detailed instructions on where and when to meet.

She exhaled slowly. “Guess I have no choice but to spring this trap—if it is one.”

The timing was suspicious. The planning was too precise—structured just well enough to seem not like a trap, but also too well-planned not to be one.

The only way to know was to find out firsthand.

She quickly typed out a message to Illumi, informing him of the job, then set about gathering supplies for what would likely be a prolonged mission.

Once she had everything she needed, she began her journey toward NGL.

~

Arriving at the meeting point, Kyra was surprised to find that the call had been legitimate. Chairman Netero stood waiting, accompanied by two men.

One was tall and burly, with straight silver hair that touched his broad shoulders. He wore a purplish-gray shirt, a red tie, and black pants. A pipe rested in his hand, and sunglasses concealed his eyes.

The other was slightly shorter—shorter than her , even. He had neatly cut black hair, a sharp suit with a blue tie, and hazel eyes behind a pair of glasses.

“I was half-expecting a trap,” Kyra admitted. “Imagine my surprise when I saw that call was legit.”

Netero chuckled. “And yet you still came?”

“If it had been a trap, that would have meant the enemy was formidable,” Kyra said with a shrug. “I can’t allow such a threat to exist. Springing their trap and eliminating them would’ve been the best course of action.”

The larger man let out a hearty laugh. “I can see why you wanted this rookie on the team, Chairman. She’s a sharp one.”

The other man remained silent, simply adjusting his glasses.

“Well then, since this wasn’t a trap, let’s do introductions,” Netero said.

“Knov,” the suited man introduced himself curtly.

“Morel Mackernasey,” the taller one added, grinning as he pointed to himself.

“Kyra,” she responded simply, her mind already analyzing them—assessing their strengths, their weaknesses, and how they might operate in a fight.

“Excellent. Let’s go,” Netero said, turning on his heel.

The trio followed in step behind him.

As they walked, Netero briefed them on their target: Chimera Ants.

According to reports, a team of amateur hunters conducting a biological survey had discovered that a Queen Ant had washed ashore. It likely drifted into NGL and, at some point, acquired a taste for human flesh. Within weeks, the infestation had grown into the thousands. Even worse, the ants had somehow learned to use Nen.

“The only way to kill them completely is to destroy the head,” Netero explained. Then, his tone turned steely. “Exterminate them all. No exceptions.”

“Understood,” the three echoed.

There was nothing more to discuss.

~

When they reached the NGL border, the group was taken aback to find two kids waiting in the shade of a checkpoint tree just at the edge of the border. Kyra immediately recognized them as Gon and Killua. Gon was unconscious, while Killua appeared shaken. A bad feeling churned in her gut.

“What’s this? They’re just kids. If you’re here to play, you’ll get burned. Go home,” Morel taunted, crossing his arms with a smug grin.

“Stop it, Morel. That’s not nice. They’re just children,” Knov chided him.

“You shouldn’t coddle them either, Knov. Spoiled little children end up as rotten adults,” Kyra added with a dry smirk, eyeing the two boys.

Netero chuckled heartily, his eyes twinkling as he regarded the kids. “You look pretty defeated. Was the enemy that strong?” he asked, his voice light but curious.

“One of them could use Nen. It was the worst aura I’ve ever felt. Worse than my brother’s. Worse than Hisoka’s,” Killua said, his voice shaky but resolute.

“In that case, it’s likely the whole colony will learn Nen in due time,” Kyra said, her voice steady as she exchanged a brief glance with Netero. “We should move forward with that assumption, Chairman.”

Netero nodded in agreement. “Good thinking.”

Killua looked at them all, his wide eyes filled with a mix of awe and fear. “Now that I’ve learned to use Nen, I can tell... you guys are unbelievably strong. But I still can’t see how you can defeat that thing.”

Knov chuckled softly. “When humans encounter the unknown, they tend to lose perspective. You’re in a state of panic right now. We’ll handle it from here. You should get some rest,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact.

Morel snickered, shaking his head. “You’re no better than I am, Knov.” He then turned to Kyra, who just sighed in response. This could turn into a drag, she thought.

Morel, seeing an opportunity to lecture, couldn’t resist. “Kid, the minute you start talking about who can win in a Nen fight, you’re wrong. In most cases, you won’t know your opponent’s abilities. One second of carelessness is all it takes to turn the tables and cost a life. Never make assumptions based on the amount of aura you see. A battle can shift in an instant. That’s what fighting with Nen means. But above all, you must fight with certainty. That’s the spirit of a Nen user. The moment you let an opponent’s aura overwhelm you and you flee... you’re lower than a loser.”

“Morel, that’s enough,” Knov cut in, his voice stern.

“Is Gon asleep?” Netero asked, his tone almost casual as he shifted his attention to the unconscious boy.

“He was going to attack the enemy, but I stopped him with force. I didn’t have time to control my strength, so I’m not sure when he’ll wake up,” Killua explained, his voice laced with frustration.

“That kid shows some promise then,” Morel said with a laugh, clearly impressed.

“Morel!” Knov scolded again, clearly disapproving.

Netero, his expression sobering slightly, turned back to the group. “It’s hard to believe that giant Chimera Ants are eating humans, but if it’s true, we need to keep casualties to a minimum. If we send fighters who aren’t strong enough, they’ll just make the enemy stronger. Do you understand?” he asked, looking at Killua for confirmation.

“Yeah,” Killua replied, his voice more serious now as he nodded.

“We sent two assassins to the nearest village. It’s your decision whether you want to fight, but you must defeat them before you come. If you wish to live as a Hunter… We are not desperate for help, we only seek the strong.” Netero said, tossing Killua two pieces, each a half from a token.

With that, Killua and Gon left to join Kite’s group of amateur hunters, leaving the group behind. Kyra, however, still felt that gnawing unease deep in her stomach. Something wasn’t right—she couldn’t shake the feeling that it had to do with her brother.

~

By nightfall, they had reached the nest. From a safe distance, well beyond the ants' detection range, Netero was carefully assessing the situation.

“This is bad,” he muttered. “That thing is stronger than I am.”

Knov’s expression darkened. “Stronger than the Chairman? Surely you jest. If that’s really true, none of the Hunters will stand a chance against it.”

Netero scoffed, shaking his head. “It’s been more than half a century since I was the strongest Nen user. Now, I’m more or less even with you guys.” He paused, then added with a chuckle, “Though, I think I’d be in real trouble if Kyra decided to fight me seriously.”

Kyra didn’t respond to the compliment. Her gaze was locked on the nest, her nails digging into her clenched hand. “Then, leave the kitty cat to me,” she said, voice cold. “I have a feeling that thing killed my brother.”

A heavy silence settled over the group. She didn’t want to believe it, but she was a realist. The pit in her stomach only grew heavier with every passing second.

Netero eventually broke the silence. “Still, the real question is how we win. If anyone has any brilliant ideas, I’d love to hear them.”

Knov sighed. “You’re truly awful. When you asked us to join, did you not already have an answer in mind?” With that, he opened a portal beneath his feet.

From within the dark space, he pulled out Morel’s pipe and Kyra’s sword, handing them to their respective wielders. “We exterminate the ants in silence. One at a time.”

Morel grinned, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke as he took his pipe. “Yeah, let’s take it slow. Might as well enjoy the job.”

Kyra rolled her eyes. “We do have a deadline, so let’s not drag it out.”

“Right, but first, we need intel,” Morel said. “Numbers, skill levels, and how many of them can use Nen. Go.”

At his command, the smoke rabbits dispersed into the darkness, slipping through the air like silent scouts.

The hunt had begun.

Chapter Text

Their hunt was efficient, almost mechanical. Morel would flood an area with smoke, obscuring vision and muffling sound. Kyra would strike from within the mist, killing as many ants as possible. Knov would then open portals beneath the unsuspecting ants, sending them into a room in his teleporting space that held the Chairman, poised to annihilate anything unfortunate enough to land before him with nothing but his bare hands.

In truth, Kyra found the strategy somewhat redundant. The Queen had ceased producing new soldiers, channeling all her energy into birthing the King, yet the sheer number of Chimera Ants already created seemed endless. Still, they were making a dent—slowly but surely, chipping away at the thousands.

They had retreated for the night, taking a brief rest before resuming their extermination.

“We should be able to continue the current plan,” Morel said, taking a long drag from his pipe.

“Yes,” Knov agreed.

“Knov and I will be able to tell once a trap has been laid,” Morel continued.

“In fact,” Knov added, adjusting his glasses, “I believe we should spring a few of those traps ourselves.”

Kyra nodded in agreement. “I was thinking the same thing.”

Morel lifted a brow. “Oh?”

“If we ignore the more disciplined squads, they’ll eventually band together and become a bigger problem,” Knov explained. “Most likely, they’ll start mixing disciplined and undisciplined units. If we launch an indiscriminate attack, it will create chaos among them. We should be able to eliminate another three or four squads before they attempt another approach.” He pushed up his glasses slightly. “I can already predict their next move. If all goes well, we’ll be finished before reinforcements arrive.”

“I hope things go that way,” Netero said, though there was a knowing tone to his voice.

“Hope for the best, prepare for the worst,” Kyra countered. “Worst case? The King is born early, the Queen dies, and the ants scatter. Some will remain loyal, but without her guidance, they’ll be disorganized. That said, let’s not forget—our mission is to exterminate them all.”

“Right.” Netero’s eyes gleamed. “We’ll proceed as planned. If it starts to look like the worst-case scenario is playing out, we shift our focus to the King.”

The decision was made. The hunt would continue.

~

Ten days remained in the kids’ deadline, but the extermination team wasn’t slowing down. If anything, they had ramped up their efforts.

The strategy remained the same, but now Knov was teleporting two or three Chimera Ants at a time, and Kyra sliced up whole squadrons of Chimera Ants.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Morel asked, exhaling a puff of smoke.

“What do you mean?” Knov glanced at him.

“All we’re doing is feeding enemies to the old man, and he’s taking them out like clockwork, and Kyra is slicing them up. Doesn’t this feel a little too easy?” Morel said.

Exactly. Kyra agreed internally. It was too easy. They had been targeting squadron leaders and eliminating the lower-ranked Ants, but the Royal Guards remained untouched.

Their mission was to wipe out all the ants. Thinning the numbers first was a valid strategy, but Kyra believed they should have gone straight for the Queen and the Royal Guard first. Take out the leadership, then clean up the nest—it was the most efficient approach.

“The Chairman was being modest,” Knov said. “He’s still much stronger than we are, and he seems to be enjoying himself.”

Kyra wasn’t so sure. Netero was definitely excited, but she doubted he had been exaggerating when he estimated their relative strengths.

“Oh, speak of the devil,” Morel muttered as his communicator buzzed. He answered the call from Netero inside Knov’s teleporting space.

“Keep sending them my way,” the Chairman said, his tone brimming with energy. “I’m finally starting to regain my touch.”

“Impressive,” Morel replied.

“And the Queen?” Netero asked.

“She hasn’t made a move—still holed up in the nest,” Morel said.

“And the ants? Acting as usual?”

“They’ve yet to scatter, and the Royal Guard hasn’t budged either,” Morel confirmed.

“Then the King hasn’t been born yet,” Netero said. “Keep monitoring the situation.”

“Roger.” Morel hung up and smirked. “The old man’s on a roll.”

“Shall we grab another squadron?” Knov asked.

“Yeah,” Morel said, his grin widening.

Kyra crossed her arms, glancing toward the nest in the distance. Something still felt wrong, but for now, all they could do was follow the plan.

~

“Still no movement?” Netero’s voice crackled over the phone as Kyra, Knov, and Morel kept watch on the nest that night.

“No, as expected, they’ve holed up inside,” Knov replied. “Shall we make our move?”

“No. We’re approaching the deadline for your disciples. We can wait until that’s over,” Netero said.

Knov adjusted his glasses. “Judging by the estimated number of bodies stored inside the nest, they’ll need to replenish in about a week. I’d like to take out another two or three squadrons at that time.”

“Okay. I’ll leave it in your hands,” Netero said before hanging up.

Kyra huffed, crossing her arms. The Chairman was taking his time, too much time. The King could be born at any moment, but it was almost as if Netero wanted that to happen.

Of course , she realized. He wants to fight him.

“Figures,” Kyra muttered under her breath. Netero was waiting for a challenge—the strongest creature on earth. She could only hope there would still be an earth left once the King was born.

“We don’t move until we know how our disciples performed,” Knov said.

“I think that’s a waste of time,” Morel exhaled, twirling his pipe. “Knuckle and Shoot might be able to help, but the old man’s kids? They’re unreliable. Can’t count on them for anything in a fight. At best, they could act as decoys. At worst, they’ll get in our way. I’m certain of it.”

“That old man always was a gambler…” Knov mused.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Kyra interjected.

“Oh?” Morel raised a brow.

“It’s exactly that kind of thinking that leads to underestimating your opponent,” she said. “In battle—and in life—you have to consider every possibility. Even the smallest factor can mean the difference between life and death.”

Morel grinned. “You wanna bet on it?”

Kyra smirked. “Depends. What are the stakes?”

“Just some cash, and a wounded pride.” Morel smirked.

Morel leaned forward. “I’ll put a hundred thousand on Knuckle and Shoot. If they fail, the Chairman gets the money.” He glanced between them. “How about it?”

Knov adjusted his tie. “I’ll put a million on them.”

Morel nearly choked. “Huh?! That’s just insane! Are you trying to throw your money to the dogs?!”

Knov only smiled. “I happen to love gambling. I always roll high.”

“In that case,” Kyra said, her smirk widening, “I’ll put ten million on your boys.”

Morel gawked. “ Seriously?! You’re crazy.”

Kyra chuckled lightly. “Maybe.” She wouldn’t deny it.

~

As the sun broke through the horizon, Kyra felt a pit of dread in her stomach. Something was happening— or had already happened . Something bad.

She immediately called the Chairman. “The King will be born today.”

“You’re probably right,” Netero replied. “I have the same feeling.”

Kyra exhaled sharply, collecting her thoughts. “It’s too soon. The King is forcing his way out. That means the Queen will either die or be severely injured. If she dies, some ants will scatter and try to form their own colonies. The King and the Royal Guard will move to claim a new nest, and others may follow him.”

“I see,” Netero mused.

“We should eliminate any ants that scatter but wait for reinforcements before engaging the King,” she concluded.

“That’s a good call. Do as you see fit.” Netero hung up.

Morel exhaled a plume of smoke. “Well, would you look at that? One of them is heading straight for us.”

Kyra narrowed her eyes. A Chimera Ant was flying toward them—carrying something white.

“Is it waving a flag ?” she muttered.

“Have we been spotted?” Knov asked.

“Doubtful,” Kyra replied. “We’re well outside that cat’s range. But they do know we’re here.”

They tensed, preparing for an attack. But instead, the Ant shouted as it approached.

“We surrender! But there is one condition. You must save the Queen! She no longer has the ability to give birth. The King has already been born!”

Morel clicked his tongue. “Damn, you were right.” He begrudgingly forked over some cash. Knov, though silent, looked just as reluctant when he handed over a larger pile.

Kyra smirked, pocketing the money. “I always am.”

Morel sighed, turning back to the Ant. “Well, what do we do about this?”

“Our mission is to eliminate all Chimera Ants,” Knov said coldly, adjusting his glasses. “We should ignore it.”

“I agree… but.” Kyra frowned. The final call wasn’t theirs to make.

“Please!” The Ant’s voice was urgent, desperate. “If the Queen dies, nothing will hold the Squadron Leaders back. Things will spiral out of control!”

“No,” Kyra said firmly. “The colony is already too individualized. Some leaders—and likely even captains—have already accepted the Queen’s death and are striking out on their own as we speak .”

The Ant’s face darkened. “…That’s true.”

“What’s your name?” Morel asked.

“Colt,” he replied.

“Colt, we’re taking you to our boss,” Morel said. “You’ll tell your story directly. But listen—he may not trust you. Even if he does, there’s no guarantee he’ll let you leave alive. Are you still willing to come with us?”

Colt didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely. Time is of the essence.”

A tense silence passed between Kyra, Knov, and Morel. Eventually, Kyra sighed. Two against one.

“The timing couldn’t be worse,” Knov muttered. “Today’s the day our disciples fight it out.”

He opened a portal. They stepped through.

~

“Well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to offer our help,” Netero said after listening to Colt’s report. “At the very least, this will get us inside the nest.”

Without hesitation, he pulled out his phone and made a call. “It’s me. Send a team of Chimera Ant researchers immediately. Hmm? Yes, the King has been born. Contact Dr. Lee from Bonrin Medical School—tell him to bring his best surgeons and artificial organ experts.”

He hung up. “We leave in four hours.”

“Yes, sir,” Morel, Knov, and Kyra replied in unison.

Kyra frowned slightly. All this effort to save an enemy we’re supposed to eliminate? It seemed pointless—if they could even save the Queen in the first place.

“We will do everything we can,” Netero said. His gaze shifted to Colt. “Colt, we’ll need your full cooperation.”

He then grabbed a pair of scissors and snipped his long hair short before pulling on a t-shirt that read Heart .

“This may be the last time I wear this…” he muttered to himself. Then, without warning, his Nen flared, filling the room with an overwhelming aura.

“Colt, you’ve been in the King’s presence,” Netero said. His tone was calm, but his eyes were sharp. “Give me your honest opinion. How do I compare to him?”

Colt’s expression tightened. “Most likely… you won’t even get the chance to lay a finger on him.”

A heavy silence followed.

“You’ll be killed by one of his Royal Guards before you can get close enough,” Colt added.

Netero let out a hearty chuckle. Kyra smirked— so we’re thinking the same thing.

“Then the plan is simple,” she said. “Draw out the guards and lure them away from the King.”

“Indeed,” Netero nodded.

Turning to Morel, he asked, “Your disciples are fighting today, correct?”

“Yes,” Morel confirmed.

“Take the victors, the research team, and Colt to the nest,” Netero ordered.

Morel studied him. “And you, Chairman? You’re not planning to take on the King alone, are you?”

Netero smiled cryptically. “Oh no. I’m off to see an old acquaintance.”

And with that, he waved them off and left.

~

Four hours later, the team stood at the entrance of the nest. They were joined by Knuckle and Shoot, along with a team of doctors who would attempt to save the Queen.

“Pay up.” Morel smirked. His students had arrived, proving him right.

“I know.” Knov sighed, handing over the money.

Kyra accepted her share of the profit.

“What are you guys talking about?” Knuckle asked. He was a punkish man with a pompadour, dressed in an all-white coat and baggy pants.

“Nothing important.” Morel said smugly, pocketing his winnings.

“Let’s go,” Colt urged.

“Yeah.” Morel nodded.

~

As soon as they entered the nest, Kyra felt an odd pull, like something was guiding her deeper into the darkness. A strange anxiety gnawed at her, urging her forward.

“Hey, where are you going?” Morel called out, noticing her breaking away from the group.

“I don’t know, but… I feel like I need to head this way,” Kyra said, pointing toward the pitch-black tunnels.

“Tsk. Fine, do as you want. However—” Morel hesitated before sighing, almost bashful. “I can’t let a woman go unprotected. Knuckle, go with her.”

Kyra bristled slightly. I don’t need protection. But she knew it was reckless to go alone.

“Right.” Knuckle nodded, stepping to her side.

“Let’s go,” Kyra said, taking the lead.

They walked in silence, the air growing heavier with each step. The deeper they ventured, the stronger her unease became, clawing at her chest.

Then, the sounds began—clicking, snapping, creaking.

A flash of white.

Something lunged.

Kyra and Knuckle barely dodged in time. Whipping around, they finally got a clear look at their attacker.

Kyra sucked in a sharp breath.

His body was mangled and twisted, covered in scars, his limbs moving unnaturally. His hair, once a pale platinum blonde, had dulled to a sickly yellow-gray. His pale skin held an eerie, lifeless tinge.

She didn’t want to believe it.

She couldn’t believe it.

But—

“…Kite,” she whispered, voice trembling.

The construct attacked again. She dodged.

“You know him?!” Knuckle exclaimed.

“He’s my brother! ” Kyra snapped, fury overtaking her grief. She drew her sword in a single fluid motion.

“Tenken: Shiranui Smile!”

Fire erupted around them in a violent blaze.

“Whoa—hey!” Knuckle yelped, barely avoiding the wild flames. They crackled out of control, feeding off Kyra’s raw emotions.

She dodged Kite’s next punch and punched him back.

Her eyes locked onto the twisted Nen construct manipulating Kite’s broken body.

With a fierce slash, a wave of searing flames tore through the puppeteer. It burned instantly.

Kite’s body went limp.

He collapsed.

Kyra sheathed her sword, but the flames refused to die down. She knelt, pulling her brother’s lifeless form into her arms, holding him close.

“It’s okay now,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “You can rest, big brother.”

Tears streamed down her face as the fire raged on, engulfing the nest—devouring every last ant still inside.

~

Knuckle had sprinted off to warn the other Hunters, and the research team, who barely managed to escape as the raging Nen-conjured flames consumed the nest.

The fire burned for hours.

It refused to die.

It crackled and roared, an inferno fueled by grief and fury, until—finally—it began to wane.

Then, from the smoldering ruins, Kyra emerged.

She carried Kite’s body in her arms. Her red eyes—swollen from relentless tears—shone even brighter against the ashen backdrop. An aura of fire still crackled around her, alive and restless.

The flames hungered.

For death. For vengeance.

But they did not burn Kyra.

They did not touch the others as she passed.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Knuckle took a hesitant step forward, his voice cracking. “Kyra…?” He didn’t know what else to say. He’d never seen someone carry so much raw pain in their eyes.

Morel let out a slow, low whistle, though there was no humor in it. “Damn. You really did a number on that place.” He took a deep drag of his pipe, his usual smirk nowhere to be seen.

Knov adjusted his glasses, but his hands were trembling. “This level of Nen… The scale of destruction…” His voice was unsteady, like he was trying to rationalize something that defied logic.

Colt fell to his knees, staring at what remained of the nest. “They’re all gone…” His voice was barely above a whisper.

Shoot swallowed hard, gripping his arm as he looked at Kyra. “You… You really burned it all down.”

Kyra didn’t acknowledge them. Didn’t slow her steps.

Until she came to a stop in front of Colt.

Her shadow loomed over him, the heat of her aura suffocating, pressing down on him like a force of nature. It was oppressive. Demanding.

It reminded him of the King.

“You.” Her voice was quiet but sharp as a blade. “Who did this?”

Colt swallowed thickly, his throat dry. There was no escaping the weight of her fury. No lie would save him.

“…Neferpitou,” he answered.

The flames still flickered at her heels, restless.

The fire was not finished.

Not yet.

Because these flames had one target.

One purpose.

And now she knew its name.

Neferpitou.

~

As they headed back, Kyra gradually reined in her Nen aura, though it was obvious to everyone that the fire hadn’t gone out—it was merely simmering beneath the surface, waiting.

She grilled Colt relentlessly.

What did it look like? What was its fighting style? What abilities did it have? Strengths? Weaknesses? Any habits? Any openings?

Colt answered each question carefully, his voice tense, his instincts screaming at him to tread lightly. The deeper into the interrogation they went, the more it felt like he wasn’t talking to a person—he was feeding kindling to a burning inferno.

Then, when she had gotten everything she needed, she turned her gaze on him.

Cold. Calculating.

She lifted her sword, ready to strike him down.

Colt tensed, holding the infant closer to his chest, knowing there was no way he could stop her. He didn’t even feel it when her blade cut him in two.

Chapter Text

Once they reached the nearest city, Kyra began preparing a proper burial for her brother. As she worked, Knuckle walked in, bringing Gon and Killua with him.

Kyra had surprisingly come to like Knuckle. He put up a punk act, but underneath, he was a gentle soul. He reminded her of her brother, which perhaps made losing Kite a little easier to bear.

Oh, make no mistake—Kyra was still seething with anger at the one who had done this to Kite. She was still heartbroken over the loss, frustrated by her inability to help. But there was something about Knuckle that soothed the burning flames of her fury, if only slightly.

Gon was silent as he approached, his eyes locking on Kite’s still body. Kyra had done well to make him look as if he were merely sleeping, peaceful despite the horrors he had suffered.

“Is there a way?” Gon asked, his voice small, tinged with desperation.

“To do what? Bring him back?” Kyra’s tone was sharp, her grief sharpening into anger. “Don’t be foolish. There’s no power on this earth that can bring the dead back. You can control their bodies, sure, but once the spirit is gone, that’s it.”

Gon’s fists clenched at his sides, his body trembling. Then, after a long silence, he turned to her, his eyes dark with an unshakable resolve.

“I want that one,” he said, his intent clear.

Kyra met his gaze, her Nen flaring instinctively. The air crackled faintly with the force of her emotion, her anger surging like wildfire. She knew Gon couldn’t sense it due to Knuckle’s ability, but she didn’t need him to feel it—she needed him to understand. This was a warning. A threat. He was stepping between a Hunter and her prey.

But Gon didn’t back down.

Just before Kyra speaks, as Gon stands there trembling, she hesitates.

She knew the truth—this wasn’t Gon's fault. Not really. He hadn’t asked for Kite to throw himself into danger. He hadn’t wanted this outcome.

But if he went after them , after that monster , Kite’s sacrifice would mean nothing. His death would be wasted.

Kyra’s hands curled into fists.

She had to drive Gon away. Had to make sure he stayed away. Even if it meant saying things she didn’t truly mean. Even if it meant breaking him.

She took a breath, forcing her grief to harden into something sharp, something cruel.

Kyra’s teeth clenched. “Just who do you think you are, huh?! You’re just some kid who knew him for a few days. He was my brother! My brother! You want to avenge him, but you’re the one who's to blame for this!” she yelled, her Nen roaring to life, flames licking at the edges of her aura.

As Kyra’s voice rose, her anger boiling over, Knuckle took a small step forward. He didn’t interrupt—this wasn’t something he should stop—but he made sure she knew he was there. His presence was solid, steady, like an anchor against the storm inside her.

Gon’s breath hitched. “But—!”

“But nothing!” Kyra snapped, stepping forward, her presence suffocating. “You think you can just absolve yourself of guilt by avenging him? Not happening. Not on my watch! This happened because of you! You! And no one else! So you’re going to stay behind,leave me and my brother alone, and you’re going to carry this guilt for the rest of your life! Because! This! Is! YOUR! FAULT!”

Silence.

Kyra’s words cut deep, Killua’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not fair,” he muttered, his voice low but laced with tension.

Kyra’s fury snapped toward him. “You want to say something?” she bit out.

Killua clenched his fists. He wanted to argue. Wanted to say that Gon wasn’t to blame. But the truth was—Kyra wasn’t wrong. Gon had led them here. Gon had put Kite in this situation.

So he didn’t fight her. He just let out a slow breath, shoulders slumping. “I get it,” he said instead. “But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve to fight for him too.”

Kyra’s stomach twisted. He was right. But she couldn’t let Gon do that.

So she forced her glare to harden. “I don’t care what he deserves,” she snapped. “This isn’t about what’s fair.”

Killua’s expression darkened, but he didn’t argue again.

Gon shook where he stood, his entire body trembling with rage and grief. His nails dug into his palms, his shoulders heaving. Tears pricked his eyes, but he refused to let them fall.

Because she was right. Completely and utterly right.

And there was nothing he could do to fix it.

“Damn it!” he screamed, his voice raw with frustration, before turning and bolting from the room. Killua chasing after him, calling after him.

Kyra watched them go, her chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. The anger still burned inside her, but beneath it, something else lingered—something hollow, something exhausted.

Knuckle patted her shoulder, as she trembled from her rage.

“It’s for the best,” he murmured.

Kyra nodded, but as the adrenaline faded and the weight of what she’d just done settled in, she felt the first sob tear its way out of her throat. When Knuckle pulled her in, she didn’t resist and freely cried into his shoulder.

Chapter Text

They stopped for lunch near the border, and the news was on, speculating over the recent events.

“What is the agenda behind the sudden flurry of activity in East Gorteau? Supreme Leader Diego has personally invited all citizens to gather in the capital city, Peijing, to celebrate the nation’s birth in ten days,” the news anchor reported.

“There’s our deadline,” Kyra said, instantly picking up on the plan. “The ants are using the figurehead to gather as many humans as possible to build their army.”

“What’s the old man up to?” Knuckle asked, referring to the chairman.

“He sent an email saying he’s already inside East Gorteau, but I haven’t heard from him since,” Knov replied.

“I imagine he’s following his own plan. From the start, he’s wanted to fight the King. He’ll probably contact us today with further instructions,” Kyra said. Just as she finished speaking, Knov’s phone beeped with a new text.

“Speak of the devil, it’s the Chairman,” Knov said, glancing at the message.

“That old man’s got some sharp ears,” Morel commented.

“He already knows everything. Including the fact that you boys are here, and that Morel’s badmouthing him,” Knov added with a teasing grin.

Kyra leaned over Morel’s shoulder to read the message: “Divide into two pairs, Kyra, the cat is all yours, and draw the Royal Guard away from the King. The night before the celebration, the operation will begin at midnight. From the sharp-eared old man.”

“That guy really scares me…” Morel muttered, his tone almost fretting.

~

That night, at midnight, the team gathered for the last while.

“We’ll split up now. Use whatever means you deem best to fulfill your mission.” Morel said.

“Kyra, as requested, you're assigned to Neferpitou. Knuckle, Shoot, you’re on one. Knov and I will take the other. Best of luck to you!” Morel finished, his tone light, though the weight of their task still hung in the air.

~

Kyra snuck into the country, and all too soon, she came across a small village—its silence heavy with the traces of a massacre. The Selection had already begun.

Just as she suspected, Neferpitou’s puppeteer ability could force Nen to awaken in ordinary people by compelling them to attack others. It was something the Royal Guard could control remotely, on a massive scale.

If even one in ten of the five million citizens survived the process with Nen awakened, that meant an army of five hundred thousand—while the remaining 4.5 million perished.

Destroying the Nen puppeteer construct wouldn’t be difficult, but doing so would likely alert its creator, Neferpitou. And Kyra couldn’t imagine the cat leaving the King’s side for any reason.

At best, it would attract unnecessary attention.

At worst, with the leader of the nation under Pitou’s control, the military could get involved. And that would be a hassle and a half.

So, she would wait.

~

Kyra could sense someone following her as she walked in silence. Since her stalker seemed content with just observing for now, she decided to let them live—at least until they revealed what they wanted.

She took a brief break, picking fruit from a tree for a quick snack. She ate without lowering her guard, every sense still on high alert.

A snake-like Chimera Ant struck from the shadows, but before it could fully attack, Kyra’s blade flashed. The creature's head split clean in half.

“I should keep moving,” she murmured to herself, flicking off the ant’s blue blood as she turned away from the corpse.

Not long after, another attack came—this time from a bat and an owl Chimera Ant working together. Their teamwork was decent, but not good enough.

Kyra faced off against the bat, cutting it down with ease. The owl attempted to retreat, but she struck first, her blade cleaving through its body.

Her crimson eyes burned as she stared at its fallen form.

Kill or be killed.

Without hesitation, she continued forward.

~

As she crossed the desert, Kyra suddenly stopped, her senses sharp. Someone was nearby.

“Oh? So you finally decided to show yourself…” she muttered, her gaze scanning the horizon.

A chameleon-like Chimera Ant emerged, clad in a gray tracksuit.

“Too bad,” he said with a shrug. “I wanted to observe you a little longer, but I guess that won’t work. I was running low on stamina anyway. This just gives us more time to talk things over.” He smiled slightly. “Let’s start with introductions. My name is Jail—scratch that, it’s Meleoron. When the Queen was still alive, I was a Squadron Leader. Nice to meet you. And you are?”

Kyra didn’t lower her guard. “First, what do you want? And why were you following me?” Her hand rested on her blade, her Nen crackling in the air like the sun bearing down on the desert sands.

Meleoron raised his hands in mock surrender. “Because I didn’t want to let you get away. And I certainly couldn’t let you die… After all, you’ll be a valuable partner.”

“Get to the point,” Kyra snapped, her aura flaring.

Meleoron flinched but quickly continued. “Look, you’re here to kill the King, right?”

Kyra’s crimson eyes locked onto Meleoron.

“Our task is to eliminate all Chimera Ants,” she said coolly. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t kill you right now.”

“You can use me!” the chameleon blurted out.

Kyra narrowed her eyes.

“My ability is unknown to the others. They all think invisibility is my only trick,” Meleoron explained. “But I won’t tell you what my real ability is. Not yet.”

Kyra’s grip on her blade tightened. “And why should I trust you?”

“I can only give you my word,” Meleoron admitted.

She exhaled slowly. After a moment of deliberation, she spoke.

“…Alright. I’ll trust you—for now.”

Meleoron grinned. “Wise choice.”

With that, they continued forward.

Chapter Text

They had stopped for the night, once again eating fruits picked from nearby trees.

Meleoron grabbed a fruit with his tongue, like the chameleon he is.

“Can I ask you something?” he said, his tone casual but his eyes wary.

Kyra lifted a brow, but didn’t reply.

“What made you decide to trust me?” Meleoron asked.

“You gave your word. A man is only as good as his word.” Her crimson eyes bore into him. “I suppose we’ll just have to see how good of a man you are.”

Meleoron gulped, unsure whether to feel honored or terrified.

~

Meleoron sighed to himself. Even when she wasn’t actively looking at him, he could still feel Kyra’s eyes burning into him with mistrust.

He had to provide some proof that he was as good as his word—something to build trust. They were to be partners after all.

Lighting up a cigarette, he took a drag and sighed with the exhale.

“You should stop smoking,” Kyra said bluntly. “If the smoke sticks to you, people can smell you coming. It’ll waste your ability to become invisible.”

Meleoron chuckled. “I appreciate the warning, but honestly, that doesn’t matter. I told you—there’s more to my ability than mere invisibility.”

Taking another drag, he then held his breath—and vanished from all senses, even En.

“This is my second ability, Perfect Plan,” Meleoron explained. “When I hold my breath, no one can sense my existence. You could even touch me, but your mind wouldn’t realize it.”

Kyra remained unfazed. “Why tell me something so important?”

“Well, it’s to build trust. Since I’m the one who has to take a risk, if I can’t convince you to trust me, we can’t start anything.” Meleoron looked at her carefully.

Kyra studied him. “You did say something about a partnership.”

“Yeah, but that’s for later. Like I said, we have to trust each other first. Once you’ve agreed to be my partner, I’ll tell you more.”

Kyra silently weighed the pros and cons. He wouldn’t be able to stab her in the back, not with her level of awareness.

“…Alright.” Her tone was clipped and firm.

“You’re not going to negotiate?” Meleoron asked, surprised.

“I already know what I’m getting out of this partnership—your ability and insider knowledge. And I can guess what you want from me. So, yes, I’ll agree to this partnership.”

Meleoron grinned. “Heh. I think I like you, Kyra.”

She simply turned away.

“Let’s move.”

~

“I want to defeat the King. Want to know why?” Meleoron asked as they walked through the dense forest.

Kyra shrugged, not particularly invested, but curious nonetheless. “Sure.”

“Revenge.” Meleoron replied simply, his voice flat. “Right now, I can’t tell you why, though.”

Kyra shot him a sideways glance. “I can guess why. He killed someone dear to you, correct?”

Meleoron chuckled softly. “Yeah. The King killed someone I owed my life to,” he said, pulling out another cigarette. Just as he was about to light it, Kyra snatched it away and crushed it beneath her heel.

He pouted at the sight of his cigarette crushed into the dirt. “Hand them over,” Kyra commanded, holding out her hand.

“You’re really serious about making me quit, huh?” Meleoron asked, reluctantly handing over the remaining cartons.

Kyra didn’t respond. She simply discarded them into the bushes.

“The King… his name was Peggy,” Meleoron continued after a brief pause. “I watched him behead Peggy right in front of me. At the time, I didn’t realize what had happened.”

Kyra raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t remember him at the time?”

“Yeah. I’d forgotten that Peggy was the one who raised me. Not until recently. I’ve been getting fragments of my memories back. My name, the names of my parents, bits of my childhood… But it wasn’t until now that I remembered who Peggy really was. He was a Chimera Ant, but his human name was Peggy. He raised me like a father, always carrying thick books about NGL.” He glanced down, voice barely above a whisper. “In life and in death, he never let go of those books.”

Kyra’s mind raced as she processed his words. She didn’t particularly care for the past of an enemy, but something in his story resonated with her.

Meleoron glanced at her. “What about you?” he asked, his voice softer. “Why do you want to take down the King?”

Kyra hesitated, then met his gaze. “Neferpitou killed my brother.”

Meleoron blinked in surprise. “Your brother?”

“Yeah. His name was Kite. We grew up on the streets, surviving by stealing, trusting no one but each other. We had nothing, except each other. Then Ging showed up.” She paused, the name weighing heavily on her. “He was our teacher. Taught us everything we knew about Nen, about being a Hunter. Without him, Kite and I would have died in some alley somewhere.”

There was a long silence. Kyra swallowed hard, her throat tight with the memory of Kite’s death. "Now... it's just me."

Meleoron didn’t know what to say. He could hear the pain in her voice.

After a moment, Kyra sighed and smiled faintly. “I guess I’m not alone in this... The desire for vengeance, I mean.”

Meleoron returned her smile, but it was tinged with something darker. “I knew it. I could feel it in you— the same fire burning. That’s why I wanted to team up. No one else is as driven as you.”

Kyra smirked. “Glad you think so.”

“So, now that we’re partners, what’s your name?” Meleoron asked, holding out his three-fingered hand with a raised brow.

Kyra hesitated but then took it firmly, shaking it. “Kyra. Kyra Zoldyck.”

Meleoron’s eyes widened slightly. “Zoldyck?”

She nodded. “Yeah. You heard me right.”

Meleoron gave her a knowing look before smirking. “I actually have one more trick up my sleeve. The condition to activate my third power has been met.” He paused, his nen surging outward, enveloping her with its presence. It wasn’t threatening, so Kyra allowed it to settle over her.

For a moment, nothing seemed different. Then, with a flick of his hand, Meleoron gestured toward a bird perched nearby.

He poked the bird gently, and it didn’t move.

Kyra gave him a questioning look, then tried herself, poking the bird. It didn’t flinch. She paused, thinking back to what Meleoron had told her about his second ability. Her eyes widened in realization.

“I see…” she murmured.

Meleoron’s smirk deepened. He hissed at the bird, causing it to flutter away in fear.

“This,” he said with pride, “is my third ability: God’s Accomplice. While Perfect Plan is active, anyone I touch can use it too.”

Kyra chuckled, her voice rich with amusement. “I can see how that’ll give us a huge advantage.”

Meleoron grinned. “I knew you’d get it. You’re exactly the partner I’ve been looking for.”

Kyra smirked back. “Yes, yes, I am quite impressive, aren’t I? Now,” she teased, “if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like my hand back. Any longer and my husband might get jealous.”

Meleoron froze, his eyes widening in shock. “Y-you’re married?!”

Kyra laughed, pulling her hand back slowly. “Yeah,” she replied with a grin, watching as Meleoron stumbled backward in disbelief.

~

“You knew I was watching from the beginning, but you weren’t sure if I’d report back to the colony. So, you kept your ability hidden. But I’ve shown you all my tricks, and by now, you’ve figured out the strengths and weaknesses of my powers,” Meleoron said, his voice calm but with an edge of resignation.

Kyra lifted an eyebrow, a smirk playing at her lips. “Yeah. So? You want me to tell you about my ability?”

Meleoron panicked, his eyes widening. “I-I didn’t mean it like that! Only if you want to! I totally understand if you want to keep it a secret.” He fumbled over his words, suddenly nervous.

Kyra chuckled, the teasing glint still in her eyes. “No, it’s fine. I’ll tell you about the Flameborne Sovereign,” she said, her tone shifting as she spoke the name of her ability. As she did, she activated it.

Meleoron immediately felt her nen aura wash over him, a crackling heat that wasn’t painful, but strong and overwhelming, like standing too close to a fire. The warmth didn’t burn, but it felt potent, powerful.

“This is Infernal Ascendancy,” Kyra continued, her voice steady as she let the flames pulse around her. “These flames respond to my emotions. It’s like Ren, but with a little extra flair.” She paused, letting the warmth of her nen flicker, as if to demonstrate the control she had over it.

She swung her sword in a fluid motion, sending a wave of fire spiraling through the air. “This is Blazing Judgement. When I swing my sword, it releases a wave of fire that can cleave through almost anything—including Nen constructs. It works with Eternal Brand, which marks whatever I strike. It keeps burning until I either dismiss it or pass out.”

Meleoron watched, intrigued. He was taking in every detail. Kyra continued, her voice cool and collected as she explained the intricacies of her powers.

“Eternal Brand also works with Burning Decree. The mark is infused with my Nen, and I can compel anyone marked by it to obey my commands. The deeper the cut, the stronger the compulsion. If they disobey, the flames intensify, making it harder to resist. Of course, someone with a strong will and powerful Nen could break free. And I can only use it on one person at a time.” She hesitated for a moment. “I do have an ultimate move, but it’s a last-resort thing, because it drains me. I burn a huge chunk of my remaining aura to summon a firestorm that reduces everything within its radius to ash.”

Meleoron took it all in, eyes thoughtful. “I see... so you can’t use your abilities without your sword. That’s your biggest weakness.”

Kyra grinned slyly, her expression mischievous. “Well, since you trusted me with a secret, I’ll return the favor.” She leaned in slightly, her voice low. “I never said I couldn’t use them without it.”

Meleoron blinked in surprise, but before he could respond, Kyra’s tone shifted again, her smile growing. “Anyway, I know someone who’d make a better partner for you. But since you want to keep your power a secret, I’m not expecting you to take my word for it.”

Meleoron hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “You’re right. I don’t want anyone else to know, not even someone you trust.” He met her gaze, his tone resolute. “But… I’m willing to hear them out.”

Kyra nodded in return, reaching for her phone. She quickly dialed a number, her expression serious.

~

“Yo,” Knuckle greeted as they met up, with six days remaining until the deadline.

“Why call us out here?” Shoot asked, his gaze shifting between them.

“I was thinking,” Kyra began, crossing her arms, “there’s a good chance the Royal Guards will choose to fight together. If that happens, we need strategies to separate them and fight one-on-one. And if they don’t, we should still have combo strategies ready in case we have to face them together.”

In truth, this meeting was also a test—set up so Meleoron could judge for himself whether to trust Knuckle. Kyra had already told him this was the guy he should partner with, but Meleoron needed to see it firsthand.

Shoot nodded thoughtfully. “What if they choose not to fight as a team?”

“Honestly, that’s the more likely scenario,” Kyra admitted. “But it doesn’t hurt to be prepared.”

“Good point,” Shoot agreed.

Before they could continue, a few soft whimpers interrupted them. Turning their heads, they saw four dogs appear seemingly out of nowhere. In reality, they had been trailing Knuckle.

Kyra raised an eyebrow. “What’s this?” she asked, glancing at him.

Knuckle scoffed, trying to act indifferent. “Beats me. Just a pack of strays, I guess.”

Kyra knelt down, running a hand through the fur of one of the dogs. She had a soft spot for strays. As she examined them, she noticed something. “They have collars,” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else.

Shoot exhaled and crossed his arms. “He’s been feeding all the animals left behind because of the Selection,” he said, referring to his partner. “He’s even been sacrificing sleep for them.”

Knuckle’s head snapped toward him. “I’m not feeding all of them!” he protested, his voice rising slightly. “I know we don’t have time to waste on that! So I abandoned the ones that didn’t stand a chance—that’s efficient, yeah? Some of ‘em were just skin and bones, but they still wouldn’t take my food. Some were so damn loyal they wouldn’t even leave their homes after I untied them.” His fists clenched as he looked away. “What’s so bad about saving the ones that want help?”

Kyra studied him for a moment before speaking, her tone even. “Nothing. But you shouldn’t be losing sleep over it. We need you at your best for the mission.”

“I know that!” Knuckle snapped, furiously rubbing at his eyes as if to erase the evidence of tears.

“You don’t have to cry about it,” Shoot said dryly.

“I’m n-not crying, fool!” Knuckle shot back, voice cracking slightly. “You wanna get smacked?!”

Chapter Text

Two days remained until the deadline. Much had happened in the meantime.

Knov had successfully infiltrated the palace during a rare moment when Pitou, for whatever reason, withdrew their En. He managed to place exits inside but was unlikely to join the battle—too shaken by the overwhelming aura he had sensed within.

Meanwhile, Meleoron had decided to reveal himself to the group and, unsurprisingly, got along great with Knuckle. With his help, Kyra had spent every available moment training the Chimera Ant’s lung capacity, ensuring he could hold his breath longer and maximize the use of his ability.

Now, Kyra, Knuckle, Shoot, and their new Chimera Ant ally had gathered to finalize their plan of attack.

Knuckle took the lead, pointing to the map spread out before them. “Using Knov’s Apartment Complex , five of us will infiltrate the palace—Shoot and me, Kyra and Meleoron, and then Morel. A few seconds later, the Chairman will enter from beyond Pitou’s En.

"When we suddenly appear inside the palace, their immediate reaction will be…” He trailed off.

“To protect the King first, then assess and neutralize the threat,” Kyra finished, arms crossed. “They’ll likely form a triangle around him—it won’t be an easy formation to break.”

“And that’s where I come in,” Meleoron added with a smirk.

“Exactly,” Knuckle confirmed.

“But there’s a chance the Royal Guard won’t be with the King. They might be spread out, believing nothing could threaten him—or for some other reason. That doesn’t change our plan.” Kyra spoke up, tapping the central staircase on the map. “If even one of them is stationed here, we need to lure them away before anyone can slip past.”

Kyra’s sharp gaze swept over the group. “Any questions?”

Silence.

None had any.

“It’s about time for us to enter Peijing,” Knuckle said, his finger tapping the map. “The enemy should’ve noticed Morel’s distraction by now. We’ll make some noise in Peijing to throw them off—make them think this isn’t all the work of just one guy. At the same time, citizens will be moving toward the palace for the celebration. If we disappear the day before, they’ll believe assassins are hiding among the crowds, aiming for the King. Their focus will shift outside the palace.

“That’s when we strike—using Four-Dimensional Apartment Complex to get inside. The King will be here, watching the Selection from the third-floor throne room.”

Knuckle’s confidence was unwavering, but Kyra wasn’t convinced. “Let’s not be hasty. The King moves freely within the palace. We can’t assume he’ll be in the throne room,” she said, flicking his pompadour with a smirk.

“Don’t touch the hair!” Knuckle snapped.

“She has a point, though,” Shoot interjected. “We don’t know exactly where the King will be. And besides, our primary targets are the Royal Guard.”

Knuckle huffed. “Fine.”

But something still nagged at Kyra. She leaned back, arms crossed. “There’s one thing that keeps bugging me—why did Neferpitou withdraw their En?” Her gaze darkened. “There’s only one reason: the King was injured. Either by a third party or… by his own hand. But why would he do that? Because of the third party.”

She closed her eyes, her mind racing.

The King—Meruem, as the Queen named him—has human DNA. If he were purely malicious, he wouldn’t bother with the Selection. He’s not just eating for sustenance—he’s seeking something more. He wants to cultivate the best flavor in humans. But does he even need to eat? Probably not. If he did, he wouldn’t be so selective.

Neferpitou is the one slaughtering the most people. The King, though… he’s different. He’s killing time. But how?

The Ants haven’t left the palace, which means he’s playing games. And in this country, one game stands above all others: Gungi. It’s common knowledge in East Gorteau, but only one person has dominated the game for years. The five-time champion—Komugi. The only female master player.

The King could’ve killed her already, but my gut says no. A Chimera Ant King is supposed to leave the nest to find a female and create the next generation. He could’ve taken any woman he wanted, but he hasn’t. That means either he’s not interested or he seeks a partner who matches or surpasses him. The best genes for the strongest offspring.

I don’t know much about Komugi, but if she’s still alive, that means the King hasn’t beaten her yet. And if he hasn’t beaten her, it means he enjoys playing with her. Maybe even cares for her.

If she was meant to be the next Queen, he could’ve already taken her but he hasn’t. That means she must be the third party. But in the end… she doesn’t matter. Our mission is clear.

Kyra’s blood-red eyes snapped open, burning with determination. “Whoever this third party is doesn’t matter. Our mission is to eliminate the Chimera Ants.”

The others nodded in agreement.

“Right.”

~

“Hey.” Meleoron greeted Knuckle as he entered Four-Dimensional Apartment Complex, Knov’s teleportation space.

Knuckle took a bite of a protein bar, scanning the area. “There are so many people. Around a hundred per building. They must’ve been packed in.”

“If we conceal our presence, they’ll have no choice but to assume we’re hiding among the citizens,” Shoot said, turning to Meleoron. “Maybe they’ll cancel the march?”

Meleoron shook his head. “No way. Canceling or delaying the celebration would mean admitting defeat. It’d be a sign of compromise, and the Royal Guard won’t allow that. The event starts tomorrow at 3 PM. Nothing changes that. No matter the cost.”

Kyra crossed her arms. “Still, as mindless as these citizens seem, they’re not just gonna stand around for hours without getting restless. There must be a way to keep them in line.”

“Yeah,” Meleoron agreed. “Shaiapouf can spread his hypnotic scales over a wide area. Probably wouldn’t work on Hunters, but on ordinary civilians? It’s basically mind control.”

Before anyone could respond, Morel joined them, stepping into the teleportation space.

“As expected, the puppets have joined the march,” he reported, taking a drink from a bottle. “In another hour, those sectors will be deserted.”

He unfolded the map and pointed at several marked locations. “There are six entrances to the palace from these rooms. We’ll avoid the front—too much security. Instead, we’ll wait by Entrances A, B, and C, behind the palace.”

Shoot studied the map. “Once we’re inside, the only exit leads into the palace.”

“What? You scared?” Knuckle barked.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Shoot replied calmly. “I just want to be sure we’re prepared. Waiting by the entrances is risky. But if we enter the rooms too early, we’ll be stuck there until midnight.”

“True,” Meleoron said. “If we get any new intel, we’ll want to act on it.”

“And we can’t use cell phones near the palace,” Shoot added. “The Ants will pick up the signals.”

Kyra smirked and pulled something from her pocket. “Already covered. I tested these radios with Meleoron. The Ants won’t detect the signal.” She handed one to each of them.

“Oh, right,” Shoot muttered, feeling a little sheepish.

Morel examined the radio. “You got these made in ten days?”

Kyra simply smirked, holding up her left hand. On her ring finger gleamed both a wedding band and an engagement ring. “Let’s just say… I have connections.”

“You’re married?! ” Knuckle yelled. The others looked just as shocked.

“Yes.” Kyra’s smirk widened. She was starting to enjoy surprising people with that fact—especially when their reactions were this fun.

“Still, we won’t be able to tell when the right time to enter will come without risk,” Shoot pointed out.

“I’ll do it,” Knov said firmly.

The group turned to him. As the creator of Four-Dimensional Apartment Complex, he was the only one who could freely enter and leave the space. Morel frowned, clearly concerned. Knov still wasn’t in the best shape after his encounter with Pitou’s En, but he met Morel’s gaze with quiet determination.

“As long as I stay out of Pitou’s range, I can monitor the situation,” Knov insisted.

Morel hesitated for a moment before exhaling. “…Alright. But if you sense anything off, you get out immediately. Got it?”

Knov nodded.

~

Knov reported back to the group as the sun set outside his teleportation space. Knuckle was snoring softly, sprawled out on the floor.

“It’s as you said,” Knov began. “Shaiapouf is using his scales to hypnotize the citizens.”

“Hypnosis… I see,” Morel mused, exhaling a puff of smoke. “If they’re brainwashed, they won’t panic. That actually works in our favor. If we make a lot of noise, we won’t have to worry about civilians stampeding over each other to escape. That’s a huge boon.”

Knuckle stirred, blinking awake just in time to catch the conversation. “Assuming over half the people will be in place by midnight, we were expecting a stampede that could leave tens of thousands dead,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes.

“Our biggest concern has been addressed, then.” Morel smirked. “That means we can go crazy.”

“Indeed,” Kyra agreed, crossing her arms. “It would’ve been a problem for the ants, too, if the crowd panicked. That’s why they resorted to hypnosis.”

Shoot glanced at his phone. “Six hours to go.”

“We should use this time to get some rest,” Kyra suggested.

“Yeah,” Morel nodded, rolling his shoulders. He was especially drained after continuously using his Nen to create soldiers as a distraction for the ants.

“I’ll keep watch outside,” Knov said before stepping out of the teleportation space.

With that, the others made themselves as comfortable as they could, closing their eyes and letting exhaustion take over. The countdown has begun.

~

With ten minutes remaining, Knov woke them up, and the team went over their plan one last time.

“We infiltrate the palace and draw the guards away from the King,” Kyra said, her sharp eyes scanning the group. “If they’re already spread out, we locate them. One of them will be guarding the central staircase—we must draw them away before splitting up. If they’re together, we split them up. If the King isn’t in the throne room, we find him. Understood?”

A chorus of nods followed.

“Seven minutes to go,” Morel said. “I’ll give the call when we’re down to one minute. Assemble near the exit then. Until that time, stand by.”

Knuckle turned to Meleoron. “About your power—”

“I know,” the chameleon cut in. “I’ll tap your shoulder ten seconds before I need to breathe, and again when I start holding my breath.”

“You don’t need to push your limits,” Knuckle assured him. “When God’s Accomplice isn’t active, trust me to handle things.” But he noticed Meleoron’s foot tapping anxiously.

Knov entered the teleportation space with a new report. “The Royal Guard is on the move. The three of them gathered above the front gate to discuss something. Pitou stayed there, Youpi returned inside, and Pouf took to the air to scatter his scales. Nothing seems to have changed, but I’ll keep watch.”

“Wait.” Kyra’s voice stopped him. “This changes everything. Why gather like that? The King must be involved—probably annoyed with them. That could explain why none of them are actively guarding him. Of course, we can’t assume he’s unguarded, but this also means Pitou may have changed their En . Go back and check. Even if they have, we stick to the plan.”

“Got it.” Knov nodded and vanished again.

Knuckle frowned. “Would the Royal Guard really leave the King just because he told them to?”

“Yes,” Kyra said. “If he ordered them away, they’d listen—even if it was just because they annoyed him.”

Knov returned moments later. “You were right. Pitou adjusted their En —it’s now covering everything below the second floor of the palace. Just now, they extended it high into the sky. I’d bet the Chairman is making his entrance.”

Kyra smirked at Knuckle. “See?”

“Tsk.” He scoffed, looking away.

“It’s time,” Morel announced. “One minute to go. Gather around!”

They had already agreed on their entry point—the nearest entrance beside the central staircase.

“I’ll count down from ten,” Morel continued.

The team prepared. Knuckle shrugged off his long coat. Shoot rolled up his sleeves. Kyra unsheathed her sword, fire sparking as it left the scabbard. Morel placed a firm hand on the exit door.

This was it.

“Ten seconds!
Nine!
Eight!
Seven!
Six!
Five!
Four!
Three!
Two!
One!

GO!”

The door flung open, and they dashed right into the palace.

Chapter Text

In the fraction of a second between leaving the teleportation space and stepping into the palace, Kyra noticed two things.

One—Pitou had stopped their En entirely, likely focusing on their fight with the Chairman.
Two—hundreds of Nen projectiles were raining down from above, descending on the palace like a storm of arrows.

Then, she saw him. Youpi. Sitting in the middle of the central staircase, guarding it. She was right. She always was.

Shoot noticed him next. It wasn’t ideal, but they had prepared for this. All he had to do was draw Youpi’s attention— but he was too slow.

That was when it happened.

The barrage of Nen projectiles slammed into the palace with devastating force. The impact sent shockwaves through the air, throwing everyone off balance—except for Youpi and Kyra. While the others struggled to process what had just happened, Kyra remained locked onto the enemy.

She realized the danger immediately. If even one of those projectiles hit Knuckle or Meleoron, they wouldn’t even know if they were alive or dead.

If the worst came to pass, she’d take on Youpi herself. Shoot was hesitant, a coward even—but that was fine. She knew him well enough to trust that, when it truly mattered, he had the courage to act.

Then, it happened—without planning, without words. Kyra and Knuckle moved together as if their attack was second nature. As Knuckle’s fist connected, his ability activated. At the same moment, Kyra’s blade slashed through Youpi’s shoulder, a flash of fire igniting from the wound.

Youpi roared in pain. The cut was clean, but the real damage came from the flames—tendrils of fire spread across his massive frame, marking him like a curse.

Kyra barely spared a glance at Knuckle—he was still alive, as she had known he would be. He was smarter than he looked.

Even if Youpi could see APR, he had no time to react. Kyra was already moving, already striking again. Her sword carved into his abdomen, flames bursting from the wound like gushing blood.

Another pained roar. More flames licked at his body, leaving fiery tendrils burning in their wake.

“Move it, Knuckle!” Kyra shouted. She didn’t need to hear his response—she knew he was already on the move.

Then, the air changed.

A sinister aura crashed down on them, suffocating and oppressive. Pitou.

So that’s where you are, kitty cat. Kyra’s mind raced. I should— No. They’ll go back to the King. I’ll wait. I’ll help out here first.

She didn’t let her thoughts distract her. Youpi’s full attention was on her now. He was preparing a counterattack.

She moved—just in time.

His massive, enlarged fist came down, obliterating the main stairway as she barely dodged out of the way.

~

The attack had separated the Hunters. Knuckle and Meleoron had barely managed to reach the second floor, slipping behind Youpi.

Kyra, Shoot, and Morel, however, had been caught in the heart of the destruction. Even though she had dodged, Kyra could feel the lingering effects of the attack. Her body ached, but nothing seemed broken—she could still fight.

Shoot wasn’t as lucky. His leg was destroyed.

“Shoot!” Morel called out, his voice sharp with concern. But there was no time to hesitate. Gritting his teeth, he turned toward the battle. “It’s up to you now.” His words were meant for both Shoot and Knuckle.

Without wasting a second, he spun a thick cloud of smoke. Kyra seized the opportunity, vanishing into the cover and slipping away from Youpi.

Her target was elsewhere.

Pitou had dropped their En in the chaos. Kyra took advantage of the lapse, dashing outside and further from the fight. As soon as she was clear, she activated her own En —searching.

But she didn’t find Pitou.

She found the King.

And he wasn’t alone. Netero and Zeno stood with him, locked in pursuit. The Chairman must have noticed her presence because, without a word, he pointed to the building behind him.

So that’s where my target is.

Kyra watched from a distance as Zeno launched his technique, taking away the chairman and the King with it.

Kyra’s grip tightened around her blade. Without hesitation, she jumped across the gap.

~

Kyra landed in front of Zeno, her Nen crackling like fire around her—an unmistakable display of her emotions. Her prey was just behind him. If he stood in her way, she wouldn’t hesitate. Not even for family.

Though, technically, she had only married into it.

Zeno’s cold gray eyes studied her, unreadable yet calculating. He had already known she was intelligent. But now, standing before her flames, he saw something else— power.

Power enough that, if they fought, even he might have trouble.

After a brief pause, he exhaled through his nose, almost amused. “Hmph. I’d say ‘don’t let your emotions cloud your judgment,’ but it seems they’re fueling you just fine.”

Then, he stepped aside and turned away. “Good luck on your hunt.”

Kyra inclined her head in acknowledgment. “Thank you.”

As she walked past, he spoke once more, his tone unreadable. “Make it clean.”

She didn’t look back.

Without another word, she stepped into the tower.

~

Neferpitou was entirely focused on healing, but deep within them, instinct stirred— a warning.

It came silently at first. A faint disturbance in the air.

Then, it grew stronger. A crackle. A flicker of heat.

A fire.

Had they not been so focused, they might have flinched. Every fiber of their being screamed at them to run, to escape before the flames consumed them. But they could not.

And still, the fire approached.

The crackle became a low roar. The heat swelled into a blaze. Footsteps echoed down the hall, steady, unhurried. Someone was walking through the inferno as if it were their home, commanding it with every step.

The flames lashed out like living things—angry, wild, devouring everything in their path. For a brief moment, Neferpitou feared they too would be swallowed whole.

Then, just as suddenly as it came, the fire stopped.

A figure emerged from the blazing corridor—a woman. Tall and lanky, with long, pale blonde hair framing a sharp, angular face. Her blood-red eyes pierced through them like a blade. She wore a loose cream-colored shirt, black pants and simple sneakers, her androgynous form exuding effortless confidence. But beneath the scent of ash and blood, there was something else.

Sunflowers.

The woman tilted her head slightly. “Do I look familiar to you?” she asked, her voice cold and edged, cutting like the sword she carried.

Neferpitou blinked, taken aback. Had they met before?

The woman smirked, as if expecting their hesitation. “Maybe this will jog your memory.”

She pulled out a phone and turned the screen toward them. A photo.

Kite.

That man. That wonderful man. The one who had given them their first real fight—before they broke him. Before they played with him.

Neferpitou’s subtle shift in expression was all the woman needed.

“This man was my brother, Kite,” she said. Her voice was calm,  “But I doubt you even bothered to learn his name before you killed him.”

A heartbeat of silence.

“Then you played with his corpse. Like a toy. ”

Flames flickered in the air as her temper flared.

“Incidentally I’m Kyra, and I’m going to destroy you.” she declared.

Her Nen flared. The heat of it was suffocating. It burned. It was powerful. Destructive.

Dominating.

“I could destroy you both,” Kyra said, her eyes flicking toward the woman Neferpitou had been tending to. “I’d probably enjoy it. She’s precious to your King, which makes her precious to you. I could take her away from you. Just like you took my brother from me.”

Another surge of fiery aura. Neferpitou felt the pressure of it pressing down on them, scorching hot, filled with intent to kill.

Then—just as quickly—it died down.

Kyra exhaled and, to their surprise, sat down on the floor. “But I won’t.”

Her voice was quieter now, but no less sharp. “Because as little as I care about others, I don’t seek to harm them. I’ll do it when necessary—but not just because I can. ”

Her eyes darkened. “That’s the difference between us. I’m still human. You? You’re a monster. You take people’s precious ones away… just because you can. ”

Silence stretched between them.

Neferpitou didn’t speak. They couldn’t. Something told them that any word, any movement, would only feed the flames burning in Kyra’s gaze.

Then, at last—

“Just get it done quickly,” Kyra commanded.

She hadn’t even activated her ability, but Neferpitou felt it— the weight of her will.

And, without hesitation, they obeyed.

~

Meanwhile, Knuckle, Shoot, Meleoron and Morel — having joined them after finishing off Pouf — fought against Youpi, each second a battle for survival. Even now, Kyra’s flames continued to bite at him, searing into his body, giving them the slightest edge.

If they could just hold out long enough, those flames would eventually burn Youpi to ash—certainly faster than Knuckle’s APR could transform into IRS, forcing him into Zetsu.

But right now? Neither outcome seemed anywhere close.

The battle was damn hard. Shoot was on death’s door, barely hanging on, while Knuckle had only a few scratches—saved by his incredible evasive skill. Meleoron’s stealth allowed him to strike from the shadows, landing hits when Youpi least expected it. Morel, ever the strategist, kept his distance, using his smoke to create openings and disorient their opponent. But it had taken everything they had.

An hour.

A whole damn hour of running, dodging, striking Youpi and running again. Over and over. An exhausting, brutal cycle. Even when Youpi transformed, Kyra’s flames clung to him, burning, consuming.

And then—finally. Finally.

The flames devoured the last of him.

Youpi was gone.

~

“You’re done.”

Kyra’s voice cut through the silence like a blade.

Neferpitou froze. That pressure in her aura—suffocating, absolute—made talking back impossible. They only nodded.

“We’ll move from this spot.” Kyra turned. Neferpitou followed, unable to do anything else.

She led them to a massive crater. At the bottom, a pile of ashes lay undisturbed.

“That’s all that’s left of your fellow Royal Guard. Youpi.” Kyra’s voice was even, but there was something sharp beneath it. “I’d advise against running. Not that it matters—you run, I chase. ”

She stepped over the edge, sliding down to the bottom. Neferpitou followed.

“I do expect you to fight back,” Kyra continued. “It’s fun when they fight back, isn’t it? The chase, the thrill. Playing until they break. Fixing them up just to play again. ”

Her aura flared, an inferno of hatred.

Neferpitou stayed silent, still, resigned. They already knew. She would burn them away.

Kyra exhaled, steadying herself.

“Kyra!”

Knuckle’s voice shattered the tension.

Kyra’s sharp eyes flicked toward him, irritated.

“That thing can heal, right? Shoot’s in real bad shape. They can help out!” Knuckle yelled.

Kyra held his gaze for a long moment, the flames around her flickering with barely restrained frustration.

Her fingers tightened on the hilt of her sword. She wanted this to be over. Now . But... she supposed she did like Shoot at least a little. They shared a cautious nature, and he was one of the few people she could tolerate.

With a sharp exhale, she relented.

“Fine,” she bit out.

For another hour, she watched Neferpitou as they fixed up Shoot, standing close, her fiery aura a constant threat at their back. Then, as soon as it was done, she led them right back to the crater.

No more interruptions.

“Now then.”

She lifted her blade, gripping the handle with both hands. Her flames burned brighter, hungrier.

For a moment, there was nothing but tension.

Then—

“Tenken: Shiranui Smile!”

Her aura erupted.

Fire consumed the crater, roaring like a volcanic eruption.

Pitou bolted . Survival instinct overrode all thought. They leaped, desperate to escape, but the flames surged higher, licking at their legs, searing flesh. They winced, landing in the inferno, trapped.

No time to react.

Kyra was on them in an instant, her sword flashing. The blade missed by a hair, but even the air it cut through carried enough heat to brand them. Pitou’s hair sizzled , burning away.

Panic. Instinct. They pounced.

Kyra dodged—effortless, merciless—and slashed. A deep cut, flames already devouring the wound.

Again. And again.

Pitou leaped, Kyra chased. Pitou dodged, Kyra struck.

Strike. Burn. Strike. Burn.

A minute and a half.

Pitou’s entire body was aflame. Skin charred, muscles failing, but they kept fighting. Because they couldn’t stop.

They were built for battle. A predator, a killer. But here—here, they were prey.

Two minutes.

That’s all it took.

The flames swallowed them whole.

And Neferpitou was no more.

Chapter Text

Kyra stared at the pile of ash that used to be Neferpitou. She had known this would be the result—she understood her ability better than anyone. It was only a matter of time before her flames consumed them completely.

Yet, as she stood there, staring at the remnants of her foe, she felt... hollow.

She had expected satisfaction, maybe even relief. Instead, there was nothing. No triumph, no catharsis—just an emptiness that gnawed at her, creeping into the spaces left by the rage that had burned so fiercely just minutes ago.

A tap on her shoulder broke her from the void.

She turned to see Knuckle, the pompadoured punk’s dark eyes assessing her with quiet concern. He didn’t say anything, just waited.

Kyra took a breath. In one moment, then the next, she let her flames rise again—not outwardly, but inside. She burned away the emptiness just as she had burned Pitou. There was no time for it. No room for it.

She exhaled and looked at Knuckle again, this time with a small smile and a nod. The emptiness wasn’t gone, but it was easier to breathe around it.

Knuckle returned the nod and smirked. “Nicely done.” He held out a fist.

“Heh, thanks.” Kyra took the compliment and bumped his fist with hers.

“Yo.”

Morel’s voice pulled their attention. He approached with his usual confident grin, his massive pipe slung over his shoulder.

“Boss, we’re all done then?” Knuckle asked, glancing at him.

“Yup. I squashed Pouf like the bug he is,” Morel said with a lazy stretch. “Man, that nap really came in handy. If I was anything less than 100%, that slippery little bastard would’ve gotten away.”

Knuckle hesitated for a beat, then exhaled, his gaze still lingering on Kyra for a moment before asking, “Then…”

“Mission complete!” Morel declared, flashing a thumbs-up.

Knuckle and Meleoron cheered. Shoot, still pale and worn from his injuries, managed a small smile.

Kyra let out a breath, rolling her shoulders. "Damn, what a night."

“Yeah, no kidding," Knuckle laughed. "So, what now?”

Kyra tilted her head, glancing up at the dark sky. The battle was over. The flames had settled. For the first time in what felt like forever, she had no immediate fight waiting for her. “Now? We wait, for word from the chairman.”

“I have the word,” Knov said, showing up as if on cue.

“What’s the word?” Morel asked.

“As planned, he was able to take the King to the appointed location. Even if they could leave, if they leave now, the Royal Guard won’t make it in time. Their job is done, and so is ours,” Knov said, opening a portal to his teleportation space.

Kyra followed his gaze, the quiet relief settling in. They had done what needed to be done. They had finished their mission. But there was no thrill in it. No grand victory.

Just... silence.

She took a slow breath and turned back to the group. They were all in motion now, heading toward the portal, stepping away from the battlefield. Kyra followed them, but this time, she wasn’t following the heat of the fight. She was walking into something new. Something unknown.

And that was fine. She’d face whatever came next, stronger than ever before.

Chapter Text

After a three-month-long mission, the first thing Kyra wanted was a self-imposed vacation—so she took one. She allowed herself to relax. She indulged in a spa day for herself, then another with Illumi, knowing her husband’s oddly meticulous care for his appearance.

She spent an entire week with him—the most time they’d shared since the Hunter Exam. They went on dates, spent time with Alluka, entertained Hisoka, and sparred against each other. She always won.

During her absence, Illumi had come to a realization. He cared for her—far more than he’d ever thought himself capable. For three months, he had been anxious, restless, melancholic—all because of her.

She was his sun, and he was her moon. They chased each other endlessly, bound by an eternal pull, unable to exist without the other.

When she returned, when she came back to him, he never wanted to let her go again. But he knew—if he did, their chase would end. And so, for now, she had allowed herself to be caught, a fleeting eclipse that lasted a week and then some.

Beyond their world, the rest of it was in chaos over the 13th Chairman Selection Vote. Neither of them cared for politics, and so had voted as soon as the time came for each round and then promptly forgot it ever happened. Despite being caught in the heart of the Chimera Ant incident, Kyra had slipped into the shadows with ease, unnoticed.

Part of that was thanks to her new friend, Meleoron. With nowhere else to go, the chameleon had followed Kyra—at least at first. Knuckle, too, remained close, checking in on her now and then.

Illumi hadn’t questioned it at first. But when Kyra told him what had happened to her brother, it all made sense.

He wasn’t empathetic—empathy had no place in his line of work. But he did offer her a shoulder to cry on. And to her own surprise, Kyra found herself still crying over it.

The loss still hurt. So, so much. Thinking of her brother, remembering that he was gone—it was a wound that time alone couldn’t heal. But with her husband’s support, her friends by her side, and the time she allowed herself to grieve, she slowly moved forward.

She would never forget Kite. Never. But now, his memory was no longer a weight of sorrow. Instead, it was a source of comfort, a reminder of her strength, and a resolve to keep living her best life, even in a world without him.

~

Kyra was enjoying her vacation, so she had no plans to put an end to it yet.

But… That was when the call came. It was from Chrollo.

“Would you like to join the Phantom Troupe?” he asked, voice as cool and emotionless as ever.

Kyra smirked, “What took you so long to ask?” she asked.

Silence.

She huffed a small laugh. “Fine, be that way. As for your question…the answer is yes.”

“Good. Meet us for initiation.”

The line went dead, followed immediately by a message with the meetup location.

Kyra chuckled to herself. The whole thing reminded her of that fateful call that had dragged her into NGL. Ironic.

“I’m joining the Troupe,” she told Illumi.

“Have fun,” he replied.

She had a feeling she would. As she left, she wondered what kind of initiation the Phantom Troupe had in store for her.

~

The initiation turned out to be far more casual than Kyra had expected. After introductions, someone suggested drinks.

So, naturally, the Troupe raided a bar. After all, they stole more often than they bought.

It was her first job with them, and to her surprise, she found it far more enjoyable than any of her previous ones—not that she planned on quitting them outright.

Once the booze started flowing, so did the stories. Sitting among them, watching the way they interacted, Kyra realized something. The Phantom Troupe didn’t feel like a ruthless band of thieves. Not here, not now.

There was another word that fit them better.

Family.

At some point, Phinks and Feitan took her to a tattoo parlor. It was time to get her spider emblem—the mark of every Troupe member.

She chose to have it inked on her right shoulder blade: a bold black spider with twelve legs, the number nine emblazoned in the center.

And since she was drunk, she made an impulsive decision—one she wouldn’t regret.

She got a second tattoo.

A heart, engulfed in flames, with the name Kite written in script across the center. She placed it on her ribcage, right under her heart, so she would always carry his memory with her.

By the time they rejoined the rest of the Troupe, a small arm-wrestling tournament had broken out. Kyra jumped in and was pleased to place third in the new rankings.

The night flew by in a blur of games, drinks, and laughter.

It was a hell of a way to be welcomed into the family.