Chapter 157: A Temporary Parting
Clear the game? The thought had crossed Ronin's mind, but he knew Greed Island
wasn't a sprint. It was a marathon that required months, if not years, of
meticulous card-hunting.
He had achieved his primary goal: the three Spiders were neutralized. For a
single trip into the digital world, the harvest was already beyond successful.
He hadn't told Kurapika about the update from Muherr yet.
His plan was to head out and investigate the Mahavi Ruins alone first. If the
situation proved too complex, he would call for Kurapika. If not, Kurapika could
remain in the game with Shizuku and Neon to focus on their training.
Ronin doubted the remaining Phantom Troupe members would try a "stealth raid"
like they had. Chrollo was too cautious for a blind jump after losing three core
members.
Still, Kurapika was taking no chances. The boy had already established a
perimeter.
"Brother Ronin," Kurapika said, closing his Binder. "I've hired a rotating shift
of players to camp at the starting tower. They have descriptions of every known
Spider. If anyone enters, we'll know within minutes."
Kurapika's methodology was leagues ahead of the combat unit he had just killed.
He knew that as long as his "observers" remained active, he had the initiative.
Even if the Spiders spotted the scouts and killed them, the names in Kurapika's
contact list would go dark. Any change in the Binder's registry would trigger
his alarm.
This is the difference between a strategist and a brawler, Ronin thought.
If Shalnark had been the one to lead the Troupe into the game, Ronin's team
would never have caught them so flat-footed.
As Ronin pondered the "what-ifs," Kurapika was busy handling the seven players
who had requested a meeting.
Ronin had already debriefed Kurapika on Genthru. He wasn't worried about his
brother being outmaneuvered by a two-bit bomber.
Kurapika wasn't interested in a grand alliance. After clarifying that he had no
intention of conducting a "purge" on Battera's behalf—which calmed the nerves of
the weaker players—he dismissed most of them.
Only three remained: Nickes, Genthru, and a third solo player.
Nickes, looking for a way to safeguard his years of work, tried to push for a
merger.
"Our team has a significant collection of Restricted Slot cards," Nickes argued.
"If we pool our resources, we can clear the game and split the bounty equally.
You wouldn't even need to join us officially; we just need a non-aggression pact
and mutual aid."
Ronin watched from the back of the room. Naive.
The idea of "sharing a bounty" among mercenaries was a fairy tale. Such groups
always collapsed into infighting, card-theft, or sub-factions.
Genthru, standing silently behind Nickes, was the perfect proof of that. He was
clearly biding his time, waiting to execute the very people Nickes was trying to
"protect."
"Apologies," Kurapika said, his tone decisive and final. "If we decide to clear
the game, we will do it independently. We don't require external support, and we
don't share loot."
It was a cold response, bordering on a threat. Kurapika was making it clear: We
are competitors. Don't expect mercy in the field.
Nickes looked frustrated, his face a mask of weary disappointment. He turned to
Genthru, hoping his "trusted" partner had a better argument.
But Genthru remained silent. He didn't even look at Nickes.
Because at this close range, Genthru's instincts were screaming. He could feel
the atmospheric pressure coming from Ronin, who was leaning casually against the
wall.
Ronin wasn't even flaring his aura; he was in a relaxed Ten. Yet Genthru felt
like a rabbit standing in front of a sleeping dragon.
A single flicker of Ronin's gaze confirmed Genthru's fear: He knows. He knows
I'm a predator.
Genthru realized that if he tried anything—even a minor sleight of hand—he
wouldn't live to see the next second. He chose to play the role of the "quiet
subordinate" perfectly, suppressing his killing intent until it was nonexistent.
After Nickes and Genthru departed, Kurapika turned to Ronin. "He was terrified,
wasn't he?"
"Yeah," Ronin shrugged. "I let a little 'leak' out to remind him of his place.
He won't be making a move on you three anytime soon."
"Good," Kurapika nodded.
"Listen, I'm heading out," Ronin said, shifting to a more serious tone. "Take
care of the girls and focus on the cards. Use this place to sharpen your Hatsu."
Kurapika frowned. "Are the ruins that urgent?"
"The collection can wait, but this lead is different," Ronin explained.
"Muherr's intel mentions things connected to our clan's ancient history. If
there are other Kurta branches out there, I need to know."
If the remaining eyes proved impossible to find through the Mafia, Ronin needed
a new "race track." Finding a hidden, living village would be a renewable source
of strength—and a new population to protect.
"I understand," Kurapika said, his eyes softening. "Go. We'll hold the line
here."
Ronin smiled. He was eager to see the limits of his evolution. Each pair of eyes
pushed him further into the unknown.
How far can these eyes go?
With that thought, Ronin summoned his Binder, pulled out a [Leave] card, and
vanished into a pillar of light.
☆☆☆
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