After much contemplation, Pakunoda arrived at a possible explanation. If she could receive replies from the deceased using the Postcards to
After much contemplation, Pakunoda arrived at a possible explanation.
If she could receive replies from the deceased using the Postcards to the Deceased, perhaps she couldn’t receive replies from the living.
With this in mind, she conducted a test, sending a postcard to Hisoka.
The next day, she received no reply.
Following this line of reasoning, Kalluto, Nobunaga, and Phinks were still alive. The troupe wasn’t completely wiped out.
Pakunoda slowly turned her head, gazing at Loki, who sat cross-legged in the distance, meditating.
’Kalluto, Nobunaga, Phinks... they might still be alive!’ ’If they’re alive, what should I do?’ Pakunoda felt a wave of uncertainty wash over her.
Meanwhile, in a remote, desolate wilderness, three figures sat around a campfire, roasting meat.
A strange mechanical arm reached out, grabbing a piece of searing meat from the flames and tearing off a large chunk to devour.
A face, mostly replaced with mechanical parts, was revealed: Phinks.
Chewing on the raw meat, he muttered, "Nobunaga, any news?"
Nobunaga, sitting opposite him, raised his face—patched together with what seemed to be flesh and other materials—and looked at him.
"Almost! Someone contacted us, offering information on our target, but the condition is..." Nobunaga’s voice was cold and raspy.
"The condition is that we prove our strength. Only then will they provide the information."
"And if we take out that brat, they’ll pay us a hefty sum."
"How do we prove our strength?" Kalluto asked.
Sitting slightly further from the fire, Kalluto was dressed as usual, appearing unscathed.
However, upon closer inspection, extensive burn marks were visible beneath his long black sleeves, creeping up his arms.
"Prove our strength? Heh!" Phinks laughed maniacally, his half-human, half-machine face contorted in a grotesque grin.
Glaring at the dancing flames, he unleashed a punch, obliterating the firepit.
The flames were extinguished by the force of the punch, the sparks disappearing in an instant.
The roasting meat and the campfire were completely destroyed, leaving a massive crater in the ground.
A casual punch had created a five-meter-wide hole.
As Phinks retracted his mechanical arm, his eyes bloodshot, he glared at the extinguished embers.
"I crawled back from hell. Proving my strength? I’ll prove it well."
Each word was punctuated with chilling intensity.
Phinks’ expression was terrifying, as dark and deep as an endless abyss.
Just as Phinks’ killing intent reached its peak, Nobunaga’s voice cut through the air.
Standing at the edge of the crater, he yelled down at Phinks, "You idiot! Kalluto and I haven’t eaten yet! Get us some more food!"
"Why did you attack the food, Phinks? Didn’t you want us to eat?" Kalluto asked softly.
Snapping Phinks out of his murderous rage, he replied, his face now streaked with black lines, "Alright, I’ll get you more food."
Clouds raced across the sky. A small airship darted through the clouds, heading towards its destination.
Inside this small airship, Netero was engaged in rigorous training.
In the adjacent rest area, Morel hung up the phone and turned to Knov.
"Everything’s arranged. We can proceed whenever we’re ready."
"Nobunaga", sipping red wine, replied, "But the Chairman said we need to wait a few more days; his training is almost complete."
"What’s the Chairman been doing all this time? He’s been cooped up in the training room."
Knov shrugged. "Who knows? But the Chairman said he’s undergoing special training."
"Training?" Morel sighed softly.
"What good is training against an enemy like Loki? Is he trying to cram for an exam at the last minute?"
Forget it! "Even Chairman Netero isn’t a match for that monstrous kid in terms of talent. He reached his current level in just one year!"
Loki was a successful candidate from the previous Hunter Exam, and this year’s exam had only recently concluded.
In just one year, he reached a level others couldn’t achieve in a lifetime.
Such monstrous talent is both a miracle and a disaster for humanity.
Knov looked at Morel.
"Don’t rush, Morel. Even with the enemy’s overwhelming strength, Nen battles aren’t solely decided by power."
He smiled. "That brat chose to hide in such a secluded location to avoid the Hunter Association’s pursuit!"
"Don’t underestimate that brat," Morel said seriously, his gaze fixed on Knov.
"Knuckle told me... he couldn’t calculate the opponent’s Nen!"
"Knuckle has been in over five thousand battles. He can accurately quantify an opponent’s Nen to the greatest extent possible. But against Loki, Knuckle told me he couldn’t even make a rough estimate." For original chapters go to novęlfire.net
Knov paused his drinking. After a second’s hesitation, he smiled.
"Perhaps your disciple’s image of being defeated in a single move is too deeply ingrained, affecting his ability to analyze normally."
A deeply ingrained image can indeed affect subjective judgment. But Morel didn’t believe Knuckle would be so affected as to be unable to even estimate the enemy’s strength.
While disagreeing with Knov, they didn’t continue arguing.
Regardless of the enemy’s strength, they would soon see for themselves.
"By the way, my disciple, Palm, has already arranged accommodations."
Morel nodded absently, still pondering Knuckle and Shoot’s words from their phone call.
’Master! If you really go, don’t provoke him!’ ’You’ll die!’
These words echoed relentlessly in Morel’s mind.
What kind of terrifying power would cause his disciples to utter such warnings?
The airship continued its journey. Morel walked to the window, gazing at a giant tree in the distance.
That was the edge of the Chimera Ant territory, the entrance.
At the entrance, a group of people were undergoing the game’s completion check.
"There’s actually a place in the world, filled with the scent of nature." A girl, having just completed the check, stood at the entrance, marveling.
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