Notice: From now on I will use Unexplored Lands instead of Secret Realm and Evil Enclave instead of Demon Domain. These names come from the anime's introduction and make more sense.
On another note, I wanted to tell you, the protagonist's training is complete, and we're entering the heart of the arc, so buckle up. Thank you to everyone who took the time to read this, and enjoy the chapter.
AstartesTL
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Benjamin's satchel bulged, filled to the brim with trophies from his poaching exploits.
Kalluto crouched nearby, meticulously sifting through the bag. In no time, he unearthed an assortment of pelts, fangs, horns, and even neatly packaged organs and meat.
These items would indeed fetch a hefty sum on the black market.
But the most valuable possessions on Benjamin weren't these poached trophies... they were the boning knife, one of the Seven Chef's Knives, and his Hunter License.
Morrow picked up the Boning Scarlet Knife that had fallen to the ground and retrieved a Hunter License from Benjamin's corpse.
A Hunter License could only be used by its original owner. For Morrow, its value depended solely on which collector was willing to pay the highest price for it.
Typically, the bids started in the hundreds of millions.
As for the other Boning Scarlet Knife, if auctioned, its price would likely be comparable to the Poultry Scarlet Knife... around five hundred million.
However, if one could gather the complete set of Seven Chef's Knives, the collective value could multiply several times over.
I'm not a Pro Hunter, so selling this license shouldn't be an issue.
With that thought, Morrow pocketed the license.
The Hunter Association required its members to abide by ten bylaws, established by Netero himself.
The fourth rule explicitly forbade harming fellow Pro Hunters.
But since Morrow wasn't a Pro Hunter, these bylaws didn't apply to him.
Even if the Association's investigators, tasked with handling missing member cases, traced the license sale back to him, they wouldn't make a big fuss about it.
Had he been a Pro Hunter, however, the situation would have been entirely different.
In a way, the Hunter Bylaws were as cold and unyielding as that.
After stowing the license away, Morrow lightly gripped the Boning Scarlet Knife.
Compared to the poultry knife, the boning knife was more compact and somewhat less practical in combat.
Without hesitation, Morrow willed the knife's aura into himself.
In an instant, the dense aura swirling around the crystalline blade was swiftly devoured by the Tree Rings, causing the energy gauge to climb steadily.
90%, 91%...
It stopped at around 96%.
Just 4% left.
Morrow glanced down at the second ring on the back of his hand, silently calculating.
He had no use for the boning knife's combat value, so naturally, he wouldn't pass up the artisan Nen imbued within it.
A 6% energy gain didn't surprise him.
Both the poultry knife and the boning knife carried remarkably condensed aura... precisely why he had insisted on acquiring the poultry knife in the first place.
Using the boning knife's absorption as a reference, he could now confidently estimate the energy yield from the Poultry Scarlet Knife.
In other words, whenever he chose, he could fully charge the Tree Rings' energy to 100% by absorbing the Poultry Scarlet Knife's aura.
I'll leave this boning knife for Menchi.
Morrow unfastened the custom sheath from the corpse and slid the knife inside.
He had no intention of selling it. Once Menchi found him a suitable replacement weapon, he planned to gift both knives to her.
After tallying up the spoils, Morrow and Kalluto abandoned any thought of rest and pressed on through the night.
They didn't emerge from the Evil Enclave until the following afternoon. Upon returning to human society, the first thing Morrow did was find a hotel in a nearby town to wash off the dust of the past few days and charge his phone.
The space where the Unexplored Land was located not only blocked Kalluto's tracking ability but also completely cut off phone signals, leaving him and Kalluto almost completely isolated from the outside world during that time.
Once his phone was charged, Morrow immediately turned it on.
As the screen lit up, a flood of missed calls and unread messages appeared before his eyes.
He first checked the missed call list and found that most of them were from Biscuit.
Then, he switched to the message list... the ones at the top were also all from Biscuit.
Judging by the timestamps, Biscuit had sent him a message almost every night before bed.
Morrow casually opened one of them. The content was brief, mainly informing him that Kurapika had completed his training.
A month ago, huh...
Morrow carefully checked the timestamps and realized Biscuit's earliest message had been sent a month prior.
The tone of the initial messages had been normal, simply informing him of the matter.
But as time passed... likely because he hadn't responded... Biscuit's tone in the messages gradually grew impatient.
By the later messages, Biscuit had started suspecting that something might have happened to him, so each message ended with: If you're still alive, call me back ASAP!
Morrow didn't call back. He simply replied with a single message: Not dead.
After sending it, he began checking the other messages.
But before he could go through more than a few, Biscuit called.
The moment Morrow answered, her voice came through the phone: "Where the hell have you been all this time? Not a single reply... you made me lose a whole day's sleep worrying!"
"..."
Morrow was momentarily speechless. Shaking his head, he explained, "I realized I still had a lot to improve in my Nen techniques, so I secluded myself for a few months to focus on training."
"Tch. Just won the Battle Olympia and immediately went into seclusion..."
Biscuit didn't know what to say.
If she hadn't gotten to know Morrow well, she might've suspected he was like her... someone who looked young but was actually in their forties or fifties.
Otherwise, how could someone his age resist the temptations of fame and status, completely disregarding the glory of being a Battle Olympia champion and throwing himself back into grueling training?
It was downright unbelievable.
Any ordinary young man would've been riding high on their success, maybe even becoming arrogant.
What Biscuit didn't know was that Morrow's thirst for progress was entirely driven by the Death Threshold.
"Well, as long as you're fine."
Biscuit said it offhandedly.
Most Pro Hunters worked high-risk jobs, so they occasionally checked in with each other.
If they couldn't reach someone, they'd leave messages asking for a callback when possible.
That was the whole reason the Hunter Association had developed a dedicated communication app in the first place.
"Mm."
Morrow could sense Biscuit's concern.
After ending the call with her, he went through the rest of his messages.
There were some from Menchi and Kurapika, as well as Kastro and the others.
Menchi had sent the most messages, mostly about specialty foods, updates on her search for a suitable weapon, and the growth progress of Chimera.
Kurapika briefly mentioned that he had completed his Nen training.
As for Kastro...
There was indeed information that caught Morrow's attention.
Kastro's message mentioned Hisoka and a match between them.
The date was March 11th, about a month ago.
Seeing Kastro's message, Morrow suddenly remembered...
Ah, right. The six-month agreement with Hisoka was supposed to be around March.
At that time, he should have been waiting for Hisoka at Heavens Arena, but he ended up standing Hisoka up because he was too absorbed in digesting his Nen technique experience.
Morrow suppressed his thoughts and carefully read through Kastro's message.
The gist was that Hisoka had gone to Heavens Arena for their appointment but failed to find him.
So, Hisoka challenged Kastro instead.
Kastro, having just recovered from his injuries, readily accepted the match.
They fought...
And Kastro lost... badly.
Fresh from recovery, he was beaten so severely by Hisoka that he had to spend another month in bed.
But more than the physical pain, what haunted Kastro was something Hisoka said to him:
"Hmm, you're still not quite there yet. I'll give you a little more time."
After that, Hisoka left Heavens Arena, and no one knew where he went.
After finishing Kastro's message, Morrow rubbed his temples.
No one knew where he went?
Well, that was obvious.
He must be frantically looking for me, right?
Morrow put away his phone, feeling as though Hisoka might pop up at any moment like some vengeful spirit.
Whatever. Finding Feitan comes first.
Time was tight. As long as he could resolve the issue of the Death Threshold, everything else could wait.
The next morning.
Morrow and Kalluto left the town, following the guidance of the living paper doll, and set off on their journey to find Feitan.
———
A town in the eastern region of Kakin.
Night had fallen, and the streets were brightly lit with the clamor of taverns filling the air.
Yet, in the alleyway just a few walls away from the taverns, silence reigned, broken only by the faint trickle of sewage.
Suddenly, a dull thud echoed through the alley... the sound of a fist striking flesh.
A man's scream shattered the quiet.
A middle-aged man, who had just regained consciousness, stared in terror at the blond young man before him.
His face was swollen in multiple places, blood seeping from his nose and mouth, staining his clothes.
"I... I already gave you the intel! What more do you want...?!"
The man's voice trembled, his body shaking uncontrollably.
If he had known just how ruthless this young man was, he would never have dared to scheme against him.
"The intel was fake."
The blond young man was Kurapika.
His expression was cold as he stared down at the man, the chains on his right hand glinting faintly in the dim light.
The man opened his mouth to protest...
But before he could speak, Kurapika's fist, accompanied by the metallic chime of chains, slammed into his face.
Excruciating pain tore through his nerves, and he let out a piercing shriek.
"I was wrong, I was wrong...!!!"
The man collapsed to the ground, whimpering and begging hoarsely. "I don't know anything about the Spider's whereabouts! I'll return the payment, just please... stop hitting me!!"
"..."
Kurapika didn't speak, only clenched his fists tightly before slowly relaxing them after a few seconds.
In his investigation of the Phantom Troupe's movements over the past month, he had encountered one deceitful person after another.
It was as if continuing down this path would slowly unfurl the ugliness of human nature before his eyes like a scroll.
In the end...
He might become part of that very scroll.
But if it meant sending the members of the Phantom Troupe to hell, then even if he became the very thing he despised most, it wouldn't matter at all.
After a long while.
Kurapika stepped out of the alleyway, his gaze shifting to the brightly lit sidewalk.
On the street, couples walked arm in arm, their faces radiant with happiness.
Parents held the hands of their skipping children, laughter ringing out continuously.
An elderly man cradled a kitten, his expression gentle and serene...
Suddenly, a blinding beam of headlights swept across the road, forcing Kurapika to turn his head away and withdraw his gaze from the sidewalk.
He lowered his head, looking at the bloodstains on the back of his hand. After standing still for a moment, he silently retreated into the shadows of the backlight and continued forward along them.
During this time, he had encountered many false leads, but it wasn't without its gains.
He had confirmed reports of Phantom Troupe members appearing in Kakin.
So as long as his targets weren't deliberately covering their tracks, he could follow this trail to find them.
That was why he was here.
However, Kurapika wasn't arrogant enough to think he could take on the entire Phantom Troupe.
His plan was to first locate a single member of the Phantom Troupe, then test his Nen abilities through observation or actual combat.
That said, if the Phantom Troupe members he tracked down turned out to be multiple...
He wasn't sure he could restrain his impulses.
———
In a derelict building, the dull thuds of punches echoed through the empty structure.
Phinks, the No. 5 member of the Phantom Troupe, dressed in a tracksuit, was intently throwing punches at a sandbag.
Each of his strikes carried aura, and upon impact, a portion of it would momentarily reinforce the sandbag's durability, allowing it to withstand his power.
Beep beep...
Suddenly, the chime of his phone interrupted Phinks's movements.
He stopped punching, pulled out his phone, and seeing it was a call from Shalnark, answered immediately.
"What is it?"
Phinks asked directly.
Shalnark's cheerful laughter came through the phone: "I wanted to ask Feitan something, but I can't reach him. Phinks, you're with Feitan, right?"
"Nope."
Phinks glanced at the night outside the building. "Feitan went to check out some ritual called the Soul Return Ritual. I wasn't interested, so I didn't go with him."
"Oh, the Soul Return Ritual."
Shalnark sounded enlightened.
Phinks was curious: "What, you're into that stuff too?"
"Nah, not really."
Shalnark explained, "I just remember Feitan mentioning it before. The ritual involves executing perpetrators in extreme ways to commemorate victims of unfortunate deaths. Feitan's probably interested in the execution methods that inflict intense pain without letting the sacrifices die too easily."
"Sounds like a hassle."
Phinks's face twisted in distaste.
Shalnark could almost imagine Phinks's reaction and couldn't help but smile. Then he asked, "Well, I already know where Feitan is going. Since I can't reach him, I'll just go find him directly. Phinks, do you want to come along?"
"Forget it. After that thing is over, you guys can come find me."
Phinks refused outright.
Rather than attend that torturous ritual ceremony, he'd rather hit the punching bag a few more times.
"Alright then."
Shalnark knew Phinks had zero interest in such matters and didn't press further.
After hanging up, Shalnark pocketed his phone and muttered to himself, "The Soul Return Ritual... Feitan must be trying to learn that technique."
He chuckled, then set off on his way.