"Maybe what Uncle Silva and the others want isn't limited to just being assassins," Ron said, looking out the window—more precisely, toward the direction of the Dark Continent. The human world was merely an island in the middle of a lake, and no matter which way one looked outward, the direction was always toward the Dark Continent. It was just that the distance was too great to see anything clearly.
Whether it was Kakin or another V5 member, their interest in the Zoldyck family was natural—whatever the Zoldycks were now, their survival experience on the Dark Continent made them invaluable. In human society, the role of an assassin held significance, but once on the Dark Continent, would that identity still hold any meaning? Undoubtedly not. The rules were different there—brutal, unknowable, and vast. And yet, the Zoldycks had already set foot on that land. Few had experience as specialized and reliable.
In fact, there were things within the Zoldyck estate that originated from the Dark Continent. Moreover, the family also needed to address the matter of Nanika. Ron didn't know if the Zoldyck family currently had plans to head to the Dark Continent, but he was certain they eventually would. With that in mind, encouraging Killua and Gon to become friends wasn't a bad choice.
When it came to knowledge and experience with the Dark Continent, no one on the human continent surpassed the Freecss family. Netero might have once stood at the peak of the human world, but even back then, Don Freecss had already been exploring the Dark Continent. No one knew what level Don had reached now—he may very well have already broken through the limits of human potential.
"Illumi, have you ever thought about what it is you truly want?" Ron asked. Illumi fell into a long silence, but in the end, gave no answer.
Elsewhere, in the outskirts of Yorknew City, within the remnants of a ruined area, a figure sat on a stone platform. Two others emerged from the side. One was a young man with short golden hair and a short stature, and the other was a woman, also with golden hair, her figure striking though her nose seemed to stand out a bit too much. However, her gaze was cold to the point of being icy, carrying an unapproachable aura, maybe that's why no one ever dared say that out loud.
Shalnark and Pakunoda turned to face Chrollo.
From a passage in the corner, two more figures entered—one tall, one short. Both looked vicious and carried the air of men who wouldn't hesitate to kill over a single word, as if the world owed them a lifetime of debts. Their faces radiated discontent with everything.
"Boss, is it just the few of us?" Phinks glanced around. "They're all late?"
Feitan muttered something in another language—only intelligible to himself and was most likely an insult.
Chrollo checked the time. "It's not time yet."
Just as he spoke, a small figure entered. His hair was so dense it seemed to envelop his whole body.
"Boss, sorry, I'm late." Kortopi revealed only a pair of eyes beneath the curtain of hair.
"You're not late. There's still one minute."
A voice echoed behind him—it was Franklin. The sheer size difference between him and Kortopi made for a stark contrast. Though both were human, the scale between them differed severalfold.
Shalnark did a quick count. "We're still missing Bonolenov, Machi, Uvogin, Nobunaga, and Hisoka."
At that moment, a voice rang out from above.
"I've already arrived."
Everyone looked up and saw Hisoka sitting high up, legs dangling like a performing circus clown, playing with a few cards in his hand.
Phinks's eyes gleamed faintly. As a founding member of the Phantom Troupe, he—like many others—didn't particularly like Hisoka. In fact, very few among them even treated Hisoka neutrally. Most simply disliked him.
The members of the Phantom Troupe, strictly speaking, took to crime because of Meteor City; they were seen by outsiders as criminals, freaks, and monsters. But in truth, they were dreamers—their dreams were simply different from those of others, and their paths to fulfilling them took a different form. However, someone like Hisoka—an actual, twisted freak, was entirely different. It was no surprise that personality clashes occurred.
Soon after, a figure wrapped head to toe in bandages walked in—Bonolenov.
"I'm not late, am I? I timed my arrival to be right on schedule."
Bonolenov's eyes scanned the room, then he made a soft sound of surprise.
"Someone arrived later than me?"
One minute passed after the appointed time, and finally, Machi and her group arrived. Feitan looked at them, his expression unfriendly.
Nobunaga narrowed his eyes and placed a hand on his sword hilt. "You wanna fight?"
Phinks and Uvogin turned toward the newcomers, their gazes sharpening. Seeing this, Franklin stepped between the two sides.
The Phantom Troupe was tightly bound as a group, but internal frictions still existed—each member had a strong personality, and no one was willing to suppress themselves to please others.
"Enough," Chrollo's voice rang out.
"Machi, did something happen? Knowing your nature, lateness isn't like you."
Though the Phantom Troupe operated as a unit, smaller cliques existed within. Machi, Uvogin, and Nobunaga were one such trio. Phinks and Feitan stuck together. Shalnark and Pakunoda were usually by Chrollo's side. Franklin preferred acting alone. Bonolenov and Kortopi had a decent rapport and Hisoka remained solitary.
Within Machi's group, Uvogin and Nobunaga were pure combat types, while Machi leaned toward support and healing. Despite that, she was usually the leader. Uvogin often said that he and Nobunaga disliked thinking. When the Troupe was first formed, Chrollo had wanted Uvogin to lead, but Uvogin declined and instead nominated Chrollo.
Machi spoke. "I ran into Ron on the airship."
"Which Ron?" Chrollo asked.
Shalnark chimed in. "Is it the same Ron I once recommended as a backup member for the Troupe?"
"Last time, you called the boss and said Ron's strength had already surpassed Hisoka's. Was that true?"