Kaizen frowned as he watched the progress on the crystal ball come to a halt.
"Not moving? Where else can I get information on the Kurta Clan?"
His thoughts drifted to Kurapika.
"But where would Kurapika be now?"
He recalled the original timeline—when Kurapika returned to the Kurta settlement, the massacre had already taken place.
"That kid was hiding nearby before... If Kurapika comes back, he’ll be walking straight into a death trap."
That meant one thing: at this point in time, Kurapika had yet to return.
"I could stay here and wait for the aura signature... but I need to keep myself hidden."
He had two reasons for this caution. First, he didn’t want Kurapika to mistake him for the one responsible for the massacre. Even though a note left on the corpse—one of the Kurta—seemed to pin the blame on Meteor City, Kaizen suspected it was a ploy. A transaction between Meteor City, the Kakin Empire, and the Mimbo Republic, using Meteor City as a scapegoat.
Kakin and Mimbo weren’t afraid of the Kurta Clan, but getting directly involved in genocide would still stain their reputation. As a powerful nation, reputation mattered. Meteor City, however, had no such concerns. If anything, Chrollo’s way of thinking suggested the worse their reputation, the better—it kept outsiders from interfering.
The second reason was more pragmatic: Kaizen wasn’t sure whether the forces from Kakin, Mimbo, or Meteor City would return. He wasn’t looking for another battle, not right now. His recent fights had drained him, and after clashing with multiple adversaries, he was in no rush for another pointless confrontation.
With that, his figure flickered as he moved to a concealed spot. From his vantage point, he could still observe the ruins of the Kurta Clan’s village while keeping a safe distance.
Kaizen sat cross-legged on the ground, recovering his aura.
Meanwhile, in the Kakin Empire, the Aiyi family had returned home, as had most of the Mimbo Republic’s forces. The only exceptions were the dead youth and the middle-aged man trapped in Sumas. However, Mimbo wasn’t too concerned.
"A B-Rank Nen user, and an A-Rank Nen user. In a ruined settlement, who could possibly be a threat to them?"
Then, Kaizen’s eyes snapped open.
He saw a lone figure rushing toward the ruins of the Kurta Clan. A shrill cry echoed through the silent land.
For Kurapika, this was the worst kind of tragedy. The rightful source is novel fire.net
He had left home, and when he finally returned, there was no home to go back to. The entire Kurta Clan had been wiped out. The village lay in ruins. Friends, family, everyone he had ever known—gone.
It was a grief too heavy for most to bear.
A soft glow appeared—a wisp of aura, drawn toward Kaizen’s crystal ball, feeding into it. The progress of his observation resumed, inching forward bit by bit.
Kurapika moved through the ruins, burying the bodies of his clansmen one by one. Eventually, he reached the village entrance.
With a heavy heart, he dropped to his knees and bowed his head to the ground.
Then, he turned and left.
Despite the pain, the anger, the overwhelming sorrow, Kurapika understood one thing: the ones responsible for this massacre were powerful—far beyond his current abilities.
If he stayed, he would die, too.
He had to survive. He had to grow stronger.
Only by living could he one day take his revenge.
In his clenched fist was a crumpled note—the one left behind by Meteor City. But right now, he had no idea what it truly meant.
Kaizen trailed behind him from a distance. With their current gap in strength, Kurapika had no way of detecting him.
They were the same age.
But the difference in power was immense.
"That last one percent is taking forever to fill..." Kaizen muttered, glancing at the crystal ball.
Meanwhile, Kurapika had reached a small town.
With no money and no allies, he quickly attracted unwanted attention. His striking features made him an easy target.
Two young thugs followed him into an alleyway.
"Hey there, little girl. All alone? Why not come have some fun with us?" one sneered.
Kurapika’s expression darkened.
The first thug hesitated, but the other smirked, even more intrigued.
"Doesn’t matter. You’re coming with us, one way or another."
He reached out to grab Kurapika.
Already in a foul mood, Kurapika snapped.
His scarlet eyes burned as rage overtook him.
His fist smashed into the thug’s face.
The man yelped in pain, but his companion growled.
"You little shit! Think you can fight back?"
Both rushed him at once.
They had the advantage in age. They had the advantage in numbers.
But in reality, they never stood a chance.
Kurapika had trained. His Red Eyes boosted his abilities. And these two were nothing more than drunken lowlifes, their bodies weakened by years of indulgence.
Blow after blow, Kurapika took them down with ease.
Yet even after they collapsed, he didn’t stop.
His fists kept swinging, driven by raw fury.
He only stopped when his hands were covered in blood, and the alley was silent.
Panting, he spat at their crumpled bodies.
Turning to leave, he hesitated for a moment before doubling back. He rifled through their pockets, taking anything of value before finally leaving the town.
What he didn’t realize, however, was that someone was following him.
A thin, middle-aged man, his aura twisted with malice.
"So those are the Scarlet Eyes the boss was talking about..." he muttered, his lips curling into a grin.
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