His hand was covered in blood. Under the moonlight, Zoldyck Killua stared at his right hand. A dark red liquid flowed along the lines of his palm. (How many has it been in three weeks) He couldn't count them right away. --- Time rewinds slightly. Trevizo, a port city in the Minbo Republic. About 400 kilometers south of Yorknew City. Located at the southern edge of the Yorbian continent, it was a modest port town. Population: 220,000. During the day, it was an ordinary harbor drifting with the smell of fish and the engine sounds of merchant ships, but night told a different story. The warehouse district "Dock Noir"—a row of warehouses stretching 1.8 kilometers long revealed a different face when darkness fell. Illegal dealings, smuggled goods exchanges, mafia gatherings. Everyone in the city knew the rumor that 15% of customs officials had been bought off by the mafia. They just pretended not to know. Killua was in the rafters of those warehouses. A thirteen-year-old boy with silver-white hair. His height was slightly taller than other boys his age, his body slim but toned. White shirt, black slacks, light clothing for easy movement. A small silver piercing in his left ear. A thin scar on his cheek. And his deep purple eyes reflected no emotion whatsoever in this moment. (Warehouse D-14. Three guards. One of them is a Nen user.) He moved silently across the beam. His shoe soles made no sound at all. He steadied his breathing, erasing his presence. "Ren"—the basic Nen technique of gathering aura on the body's surface for defense—he used it to prevent his aura from leaking outward. Nen ability. The technique of manipulating "aura," the life energy. A special power that one in ten thousand humans possessed the aptitude for. It divided into six categories: Enhancement, Transmutation, Emission, Conjuration, Manipulation, and Specialization. Killua belonged to Transmutation. He transformed aura into lightning. That was Killua's power. He peered down through a gap in the ceiling. In the center of the warehouse sat a fat man. Rodrigue Ferini. An executive of the Ferini Family in the mafia community. After the Yorknew Auction incident, he had suddenly increased his activities. The Ferini Family was an organization within the mafia community responsible for money laundering, with Trevizo as their main base. One of the guards slowly walked around inside the warehouse. (Enhancement type. Aura is leaking from his body. Not an amateur.) Enhancement-type Nen users strengthened their bodies to increase pure combat power. A body wrapped in aura couldn't be damaged by ordinary blades. Power and speed were incomparable to humans without Nen. But it didn't matter to Killua. He jumped from the beam. There was no sound of air being cut. As he landed, he concentrated electricity at his fingertips and touched the guard's neck. Just for an instant. Crack. A dull sound. The man's body collapsed. Even a body strengthened by Nen would lose consciousness if electric current was sent directly through the nerves. (Godspeed.) He sent electricity through his body. The transmission speed of his nerves skyrocketed. Killua's movements became too fast to follow with the eye. By the time the remaining two guards noticed, it was already too late. Palm strike to the left guard's jaw. Elbow to the right guard's temple. Less than two seconds. All three guards lay on the floor. Rodrigue Ferini tried to stand up. Killua approached slowly. There was no reason to hurry. There was nowhere to escape. (The Zoldyck family's work never fails.) The Zoldyck family—an assassination clan spanning centuries. The family creed was singular: all commissioned assassinations must be carried out. There was not a single failure in the family's history. Killua was born into that family and raised as an assassin before he could even think clearly. He had no memory of learning hiragana before learning the vital points of the human body. It was normal. Rodrigue Ferini tried to pull something from his pocket. Killua reached out his hand. That instant. ───Gon. A face appeared in his mind. Black short hair. Round eyes. That smiling face that said, "Everything's fun with you." Killua's hand stopped for 0.3 seconds. In those 0.3 seconds, Rodrigue Ferini rolled backward. His hand reached for the emergency exit lever. One of the fallen guards, with a hazy consciousness, noticed the disturbance and cried out. "Run!" The emergency exit opened. (...Tch.) Killua clicked his tongue and gave chase. --- The harbor pier was lit only by moonlight. Rodrigue Ferini couldn't run. His body, which had only ever done desk work, couldn't manage full speed. When he reached the end of the pier, his feet stumbled. Killua finished the job quietly. No wasted time. That was the Zoldyck way. The sound of waves reached his ears. A ship's whistle sounded in the distance. The night harbor of southern Yorbian continent was quiet, with an air of resignation about it. The light of Café Pescatore was faintly visible near the harbor entrance. That shop's seafood soup was apparently famous. An old man named Bartho ran it, according to the pre-mission briefing. 800 Jenny, and local fishermen came every night. Killua had no particular interest in the soup. He just found himself gazing at it for some reason. He looked at his own hand. Blood was on his right hand. The moonlight created a dark red color. A sticky sensation. A sensation he should have been used to. (Used to it, huh.) Three weeks ago, this hand had high-fived Gon. They'd laughed, covered in mud. On the day Gon first learned "Ren" at the Heavens Arena, in the 251-story arena in this Padokia Republic city, the two of them had made a fuss together. That day, Killua had truly thought, "It's okay to be here." Now it was a hand that took someone's life. In Yorknew City, Killua had turned his back on Gon. I can't be with you after all—he'd said only that and walked away. He hadn't explained. He hadn't told Gon that the Phantom Troupe—the Spider—had targeted him. He didn't want to drag Gon into it. If it meant Gon wouldn't die, Killua would rather be alone. The logic had seemed sound. And yet. (Why did my hand stop) Those 0.3 seconds just now. The moment Gon's face appeared. What was that? Killua couldn't put it into words. He'd left to protect Gon, he was moving perfectly as an assassin, yet something was screaming that "I shouldn't be here." Illumi's voice echoed in his head. ──Kil, you really are one of us. You're the kind of person who belongs here. The day he'd returned to the Zoldyck estate, his eldest brother Illumi had said that. In a calm voice, smiling. Killua had said nothing in return. He didn't have the words to argue back. He'd already lost them by then. That voice still clung to his mind. When he tried to shake it off, it seemed to ring even clearer. (...Shut up.) Killua shook his head. He tried to wipe the blood from his hand on his pants, then stopped. He pulled out a cloth from his pocket and wiped carefully. That was the right way. The post-mission etiquette taught at the Zoldyck estate. --- He opened his mobile terminal. He was about to pull up the mission report screen when he noticed a notification. Sender: Canary. Killua's brow furrowed. Canary was the butler of the Zoldyck estate. A woman who showed almost no emotion on her face. To Killua, she was one of the few people in the house he thought might be an ally. The message was in cipher. Killua decoded it in three seconds. ──Young master, please be careful. Something is moving at Kukuroo Mountain. I cannot provide details, but it concerns you. Kukuroo Mountain. A 3,722-meter peak in the northeast of Padokia Republic. The location of the Zoldyck family's base. 1,200 kilometers east of Yorknew City. Where Killua had returned. The use of cipher meant she'd avoided surveillance at the Zoldyck estate. Nearly a hundred servants lived in the mansion, all capable of using basic Nen. She'd used cipher specifically because she didn't want to be seen by anyone. (Illumi. Silva. Or someone else.) A cold, heavy unease spread through his chest. The sound of waves continued. In the distance, a fishing boat reflected the lighthouse beam. Killua put the terminal back in his pocket. For now, he'd leave the warehouse district. The mission was complete. There was no reason to stay long in Trevizo. He'd return to Yorknew City and wait for the next orders. That was all. He started walking. The warehouses of Dock Noir lined up in the moonlight. The mixed smell of sea breeze and machine oil. His shoe soles echoing on damp stone pavement. Graffiti on a warehouse wall. A mark indicating Ferini Family territory. He understood why the people in this area couldn't resist. Most of the warehouses around here were owned by someone in the mafia community. He passed by warehouse B-8. He glanced at warehouse C-11. When he reached the front of warehouse D-14. Killua's feet stopped. There was an aura presence. When a Nen user practiced "Ren," other practitioners could faintly sense it. The pressure of the "Ren" state seeped into the night air. It was definitely there. From inside warehouse D-14. But that wasn't all. The quality of that aura felt strangely familiar. (No way.) Something struck hard in his chest. Killua remained still, turning around. The entrance to warehouse D-14. In the darkness, a single silhouette. Only the outline was visible, the face unclear. But the quality of the aura was unmistakable. For three weeks, Killua had been avoiding sensing it. (Why.) (Why are you here.) The sound of waves continued ringing in the distance.