Meanwhile, elsewhere—
In the Stalin Family's camp, a squad of Nen users was shielding the family boss in a desolate stretch of countryside.
One of them activated his Nen ability.
A red thread wound around the boss suddenly snapped. The man's face changed and he blurted, "Captain… do we really have to die with this old man? He's just a puppet we installed. Now he's angered the Ten Dons, the Shadow Beasts are out, and our plan looks doomed. Besides, by your own guess there must be other players at the Ten Dons' side—probably strong ones."
"If we abandon this puppet, we can still get away."
Several other Nen users echoed him.
Judging from their exchange, they were clearly players—an organized team.
Every gaze settled on a long‑haired man who looked chronically ill.
He was their captain and the true power behind the Stalin Family.
They showed zero regard for the family boss right beside them—despite his panicked, helpless look—and spoke plainly.
"The Yorknew storyline is about to kick off…
The Ten Dons' power and status are irresistible to any player. If we win, we'll live like kings in the main world; if we lose, at worst we sacrifice a few underworld assets. Either way, the odds favor us."
The long‑haired man rubbed his fingers, smiling while the others fretted.
"From the Ten Dons' recent moves it's obvious a player is pulling strings. The Shadow Beasts alone couldn't have brought things under control this fast."
"Any player targeting the Ten Dons must be at least Extinction Level 6—some might be Level 7 or 8. Under normal growth rates we'd struggle to match story characters for now, but players come with wild‑card factors. We gather main‑world resources and grow across many worlds. And players have long prepared for the Ten Dons' deaths. Even with a huge power gap we should at least be able to take a few Shadow Beasts down."
"But so far only one Beast seems to be dead—far fewer casualties than expected."
"So the only explanation is that players have joined the Ten Dons as well—perfectly logical."
"The Ten Dons' mafia are still chasing us. The normal goons we left behind won't stall them long—they'll be wiped out soon. We barely escaped the city, and now we're stuck. Every suburban route is locked down by their checkpoints—total coverage, no way out…"
A player bit his lip.
Only after angering the underworld's emperors did they realize how terrifying the Ten Dons truly were—far beyond what ordinary players could handle.
"Captain… let's give up, or think of another plan," someone whispered.
Smiling, the captain replied,
"I get it. Anyone who wants to flee can leave right now, but you're out of the squad forever. If the Stalin Family rises, don't expect a cut. Fortune favors the bold: players who want to stand out must take risks—no free lunches in this world."
"Do you have another plan?" a teammate asked.
The captain's smile turned sly:
"Think about the Shadow Beasts' style… In the source work they clashed head‑on with the Phantom Troupe. Once they're deployed, no other mafia interferes, so our only opponents are them. Nine of us, seven of them. We may not win, but killing one or two is doable.
"So if you stay, someone will die—but whoever survives gains vast underworld resources."
"It's your gamble… The Yorknew auction is coming. We can use that to threaten the Ten Dons. They don't want a mafia family partnering with the Spiders to ruin them. Plus, the Shadow Beasts are their trump card against the Troupe. Survive this round and the Ten Dons will compromise, maybe even publicly endorse the Stalin Family. Then, once they're dead, everything falls into place. Even if other families oppose us, with the Ten Dons' dying endorsement and our strength, they can't win."
His words stirred the players, though several still hesitated.
The player who had tied the red thread changed tone.
The snapped thread suddenly ignited. From its burn rate, the Shadow Beasts were almost upon them.
The enemy was nearby!
"Sorry—I'm out!" one player snapped, turned, and left. Two more followed.
The captain did nothing to stop them.
Now only six remained.
"Idiots," the captain muttered coldly once no one else moved.
The Shadow Beasts' target was every core member and fighter of the Stalin Family, not just the puppet boss. In short, they were all prey. Together, nine players had a slim chance; alone, the deserters were dead.
Half a moment later, the red‑string user exhaled and revealed three tiny white threads in his palm. ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ 𝔫𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔩~𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖~𝙣𝙚𝙩
His face went pale as he looked at the captain.
His Nen ability, Life Benediction, grants blessings or petitions and isn't for combat—but it offers uncanny foresight on fortune and death, each thread color meaning something different.
"Get ready… to welcome our friends," the captain said.
The others exchanged grim looks. Their earlier doubts vanished; there was only one road left. Even quitting wouldn't escape the Beasts.
As they crouched in the grass, steeling themselves, a hand burst from the ground beneath one player, yanked him underground in an instant.
The rest recoiled in shock—too late to help.
"Ahhh!" came a scream from below, bones crunching—then silence.
A chilling murderous aura spread.
Seconds later, a head rose from the hole—half a face, eyes cold and disdainful.
"I thought you'd run farther. Didn't expect you to hide right here…"
It was him! The players' scalps tingled.
Worm—one of the Shadow Beasts!
A frigid wind whistled overhead. Looking up, they saw a "large bird" gliding in the moonlight—no bird at all, but a humanoid bat.
The Shadow Beasts… had arrived.