The murderer who killed Feitan and Shalnark didn't cash in the bodies for bounty. Instead, they deliberately mutilated the remains.
This action alone proved the perpetrator was no ordinary Blacklist Hunter.
So most likely...
This was personal vengeance.
That had been the group's unanimous conclusion earlier.
Now.
When Franklin clearly saw Kurapika's fiery scarlet eyes, he finally understood the source of this hatred.
Those were the Scarlet Eyes unique to the Kurta Clan they had slaughtered to extinction.
So... there had been survivors from that massacre!
And now, this survivor had come bearing overwhelming hatred to exact revenge on the Troupe.
He had to.
Get this information to the Boss!
Franklin's mind reeled.
Clink!
With explosive effort, veins bulged across his forehead, neck and arms as his muscles strained to their limits.
Yet no matter how he struggled, the chains binding him wouldn't budge.
The power behind these chains far exceeds normal levels...
Franklin instantly realized this chain-wielding young man must have imposed extremely powerful Vows and Limitations on his ability. Perhaps even...
A conviction fueled purely by hatred!
That would explain how these chains could forcibly put someone in a state of Zetsu, completely sealing their Nen abilities.
But such terrifying binding effects must come with equally severe restrictions.
For example.
Target limitations!
These chains probably only worked on the Troupe!
Must... must let the Boss know this!
Otherwise, the entire Troupe will be in danger!
Franklin's mind raced as he desperately channeled all his strength, his face flushing red from exertion.
Yet the chains remained immovable.
Dammit... is there really no way?
No, I can't die meaninglessly like this!
There must be a way...
Must get this critical information.
Franklin roared silently in his heart.
His face turned purple from the suffocating struggle, veins in his neck threatening to burst.
But all his efforts proved futile as he finally exhaled in defeat.
Even Uvogin, the strongest in physical power among the Troupe, couldn't break free from Kurapika's Chain Jail, let alone other members.
Morrow coldly observed Franklin's death throes while subtly glancing at Kurapika beside him.
The scarlet hue in the young man's eyes had intensified, his hatred burning so fiercely it seemed almost tangible.
There.
On that delicate face, hatred and rage visibly twisted his features.
Clearly, Kurapika's emotions teetered on the brink of losing control.
And the trigger wasn't just Franklin before him, but also the exposed spider tattoo peeking through Franklin's torn clothes.
That glaring numbered mark on the tattoo kept reminding Kurapika like some vile curse:
The spiders... were far from eradicated!
Franklin hung his head, his labored breathing loud in the silence as sweat dripped from his chin onto the grass.
He had finally faced the cruel reality...
With mere physical strength, it was impossible to break free from these chains imbued with such intense resolve.
The shadow of death loomed over him so vividly, and what made it even more despairing was that he didn't even have the chance to warn his comrades one last time.
Am I really going to die here...?
Yet the boss and the others remain completely unaware of this threat!
Franklin stopped his futile struggles, but the torment in his heart burned like wildfire, growing fiercer by the moment.
In this state of anguish, he could feel Kurapika's hatred and fury, and slowly raised his head to meet those Scarlet Eyes.
"I can say for certain that we didn't leave a single survivor that day... So you... weren't there at the time, were you? All because of this one small oversight."
"Shut up!"
Kurapika's expression darkened, and his fist, infused with Nen, slammed violently into Franklin's abdomen.
Thud.
With a dull sound of ruptured organs, Franklin's body curled up like a shrimp, blood spraying in a stark arc through the air.
Drip.
Warm droplets of blood splattered onto Kurapika's slightly pale cheek.
Franklin coughed violently, fragments of his shattered organs mixed with blood spilling from the corner of his mouth.
In his daze, he thought of Pakunoda's ability.
If only they had let Pakunoda use her ability to confirm the population of the Kurta Clan back then...
But now, dwelling on such thoughts was utterly meaningless.
Franklin lowered his head, the image of the boss flashing through his mind.
The boss... would surely find a way to overcome this crisis for the Troupe once again. And as for what I can still do now...
If death is inevitable, then, Nen, I beg of you.
Let me still contribute to the Troupe even after my death!
Even if it's just to convey a single, brief message...
Let me, one last time, do something for my comrades.
Franklin's pupils burned with surging emotions and unwavering resolve.
Slowly, he raised his head again, opening his bloodstained lips to speak, each word deliberate and heavy:
"My comrades... will find you... and kill you..."
Bam!
Kurapika's fist struck Franklin's abdomen once more.
The brutal impact sent Franklin's body curling up again, blood and organ fragments gushing from his mouth.
After enduring two Nen-infused blows in succession, his vision began to blur, and a ringing filled his ears.
But the closer he came to death, the more intensely his resolve burned within his consciousness.
"Even if I die here today..."
Franklin struggled to lift his head, "My will... won't end here. I'll protect the Troupe in another form... The Troupe... will keep moving forward... forever..."
Blood-flecked foam spilled from his lips with each weak word.
Yet in his eyes, gradually losing focus, there was an unshakable determination.
This man, always so composed, harbored a flame within his heart that burned fiercely, solely for the Troupe.
Just like his Double Machine Gun, meant only to carve a path forward for the Troupe.
Kurapika froze for a moment, his bloodied fist trembling slightly.
The scent of blood was thick in the air.
The repulsive sensation still lingered on his fist.
Why?
How could you all... torture and slaughter others without a shred of remorse!
Just then, Morrow reached out and gently pressed a hand on Kurapika's shoulder.
Kurapika slowly turned his head, his trembling eyes, mirroring his fist, meeting those of Morrow, who had given him such immense support.
Morrow met Kurapika's wavering gaze and asked:
"You can kill him with your own hands, or you can walk away. No matter what you choose, his fate won't change... Kurapika, follow your heart and do what you think is right. Whatever happens, Kalluto and I will be right here."
"..."
Kurapika bit his lip until a trickle of blood seeped out.
His consciousness, his limbs, everything in him was resisting the act of killing.
If there had been no choice, he would have ultimately killed Franklin despite his revulsion.
But Morrow had given him a choice at this very moment...
Kurapika's tightly clenched fist slowly relaxed.
Kalluto watched this, initially wanting to mock Kurapika for being unable to do something as simple as killing.
But upon seeing the blood at the corner of Kurapika's lips, he suppressed the urge to sneer.
Morrow also noticed Kurapika's unclenched fist.
It was answer enough.
Morrow immediately stepped forward, positioning himself between Kurapika and Franklin, then fixed his gaze on Franklin's eyes, which burned with an intense will.
"Trying to protect the Troupe in another form?"
Morrow slowly raised the Poultry Scarlet Knife, his eyes cold as ice.
"That's not a funny joke... Even if your will becomes Post-Mortem Nen, I can still erase you completely."
"..."
Franklin's pupils contracted.
In the next instant,
a sharp red line flashed across his blurred vision.
Then came a stinging pain, across his eyes, even his nostrils.
He sliced my face in half...
As darkness abruptly swallowed his sight, Franklin seemed to glimpse his own death.
Then boundless, soundless darkness devoured his consciousness.
Yet in the deepest silence and darkness, a small cluster of black flames suddenly flickered.
That was Franklin's unyielding will...
Thud.
Half of Franklin's skull rolled onto the grass, thick brain matter and blood spilling across the ground.
Almost simultaneously, a wisp of black Post-Mortem Nen surged from the severed head, twisting and coalescing like a living thing.
Franklin had succeeded in leaving behind his Post-Mortem Nen.
But this will wasn't for revenge; it was to warn the Troupe, to help them evade the looming threat.
In theory, even if the dead could leave behind Nen, conveying precise information was nearly impossible.
Yet Franklin's trust in Chrollo during life had bordered on faith.
It was this unreserved trust that allowed his Post-Mortem Nen the potential to transcend death itself with its message.
Because he knew better than anyone.
Chrollo would find a way to decipher it.
The black Post-Mortem Nen rose like flames breaking free from a cage, escaping Franklin's ruined body.
But.
Morrow's right hand casually reached out and seized the writhing Nen!
In an instant, the black flames twisted and struggled violently, as if still clinging to Franklin's final will.
On the grass nearby, the severed head's lifeless eyes remained wide open, staring fixedly at the scene unfolding before them.
In those dim pupils, the reflection of the Post-Mortem Nen's futile thrashing in Morrow's palm lingered, until,
it was snuffed out completely.
The Post-Mortem Nen imbued with Franklin's intense resolve was effortlessly absorbed by Morrow as if it were nothing.
Only about 8% conversion...
Morrow glanced down at the third ring on the back of his hand, where the blue energy bar had risen to 20%.
Previously, after absorbing the Post-Mortem Nen from the shortsword Purgatory, the Tree Rings energy had surged directly to 12% on the third ring.
In comparison, the conversion rate from Franklin's Post-Mortem Nen was much lower.
This was likely because the energy requirement for the third ring had become significantly higher.
To confirm this mechanism further wouldn't be difficult.
All he needed was to find another Nen-imbued object of similar level to what he had absorbed before, then see if it could convert even 1% energy.
If it could, it meant the energy requirement hadn't changed.
If not, it confirmed that the difficulty of charging increased with each additional Tree Ring layer.
Morrow then looked at the level symbol in the center of the Tree Rings.
Lv.57 → Lv.59
Originally, his level had been Lv.54, but after killing Bonolenov, it jumped straight to Lv.57.
Now, after killing Franklin, it rose directly from Lv.57 to Lv.59.
However, judging by aura output, Franklin was clearly stronger than Bonolenov.
Yet Bonolenov's experience had given Morrow a three-level boost at once...
This might be due to an experience decay mechanism.
But Morrow believed the most straightforward factor was the accumulated experience from his recent training, which had settled alongside the experience gained from Bonolenov's death.
That was why he had leveled up three times in one go.
Almost level 60.
Morrow withdrew his gaze, murmuring to himself.
Nearby.
Kurapika and Kalluto had both witnessed Morrow effortlessly absorbing Franklin's Post-Mortem Nen, though they weren't particularly surprised.
If anything, they were more astonished that Franklin had truly left behind Post-Mortem Nen, just as he had vowed.
Unfortunately.
Morrow had also kept his word by erasing that unwavering Post-Mortem Nen.
"Kurapika, are you alright?"
Rather than focusing too much on the changes in aura output, Morrow turned his attention to Kurapika's emotions.
Kurapika retracted his chains and gave a silent nod, signaling that he was fine.
Morrow glanced at the bloodstains on Kurapika's face, opening his mouth as if to say something, but ultimately remaining silent.
After today's events, he wasn't entirely sure whether preserving Kurapika's pure kindness would be a good or bad thing in the long run.
The only thing he knew for certain was.
He preferred to see a Kurapika who could hold onto his original ideals.
So as long as the Phantom Troupe disappeared from this world sooner rather than later, there was nothing wrong with Kurapika retaining that kindness.
Morrow picked up Franklin's lifeless, unblinking half-skull from the grass, then dragged the bear-like corpse with his other hand.
The hunt was over.
Now, all that remained was disposing of the evidence.
"Kalluto, bring Bonolenov's body over."
Morrow strode toward the car they had driven here.
"Got it!"
Kalluto responded swiftly, manipulating a flurry of paper scraps to envelop Bonolenov's corpse before quickly following Morrow.
After tossing the corpse into the car, Morrow retrieved a can of gasoline from the trunk.
Kalluto, along with the paper, also threw the body into the vehicle.
Not far away, Kurapika watched the two of them at work, the crimson hue in his eyes gradually fading.
Kalluto and I are right here.
Once again, Morrow's words seemed to echo in his ears.
Clink.
Kurapika slowly raised his right hand, wrapped in chains, and pressed it against his chest, listening to his gradually steadying heartbeat through his palm.
I... also have companions.
He murmured silently in his heart.