As Auren shakes hands with Chrollo, the tension in the air lingers for a moment—then gradually begins to ease as both sides visibly relax.
Rakshala quickly speaks up. “Let’s take care of the contracts right away. You’re welcome to double-check the contract. Naturally, we’ll all be signing as well.”
She gestures toward one of the Hollow Blade members, and a small figure steps forward. Despite her attire, Auren quickly notices that it’s a middle-aged woman—petite, wearing glasses, and completely out of place in her black, hooded clothes.
She looks completely ridiculous in those clothes. Is this a joke?
Yet, despite her unassuming appearance, the woman walks toward Rakshala with confidence.
“Let’s get drafting then,” she says with a gentle smile.
Chrollo, maintaining his calm, clearly looks a little puzzled—but plays along without complaint.
The woman conjures a massive ledger and a single empty sheet of paper. She pulls out a pen and begins preparing to write.
Rakshala and Chrollo work together to finalize the terms—focusing on mutual non-aggression, prohibitions on acting without cause, and Auren’s specific demands: the identity of the Elder who targeted him and a strict ban on revealing anything about his ability to anyone else. Follow current novels on novel~fire~net
Chrollo, ever cautious, poses countless questions—about proxies, loopholes, and potential points of exploitation. Eventually, he seems satisfied with the results. Rakshala also nods in approval.
“How will this be enforced?” Chrollo asks, seeming interested in the middle-aged woman’s hatsu, focused on contracts.
Without hesitation, the woman scribbles a few more lines beneath the contract.
“I’m adding the strongest penalties I’m capable of binding into it—with the longest duration,” she replies confidently.
Penalties for breach of contract:
— Reduction in life expectancy (up to 10 years, depending on severity)
— Seal on all Nen abilities leading to a state of forced Zetsu (up to 30 years, depending on severity)
Contract duration: 5 years
“If you want to sign,” she explains, “press your thumb onto the document, next to your name, and quietly think about accepting the terms. Once you’ve successfully done so, you’ll feel it. I’ve included all the names you gave me, including my own. They don’t need to be real—just names you personally identify with. The contract only activates once everyone has signed.”
This is interesting. Seems solid enough. Five years is more than enough time for what I need.
Auren glances at Rakshala, who immediately signs without hesitation and gives him a nod.
I might as well trust her. Everything sounded reasonable, and Rakshala doesn’t strike me as the type who gets tricked—especially not when it comes to contracts. She’s made every single member sign one, and they all seem to be working just fine.
One by one, the Troupe members and Hollow Blade representatives sign. Auren is the last.
As his thumb presses down, the contract glows faintly, then vanishes into the conjured ledger, which the woman promptly closes. A moment later, it disappears before their eyes.
“Well,” Chrollo says, “it seems this matter is resolved—with no further casualties. So, Auren… are you planning on joining us now?”
Auren glances toward Bunu, whose eye is still missing. Bunu catches his gaze and smiles.
“You can heal it later. Something like that takes some prep time, so handle your business first.”
Auren nods. “I’m coming with you then…. Might as well take care of things now,” he says, his tone colder, more resolved.
“Looks like Meteor City’s about to get chaotic again…” Phinks mutters, looking slightly uneasy.
“I’ve got my eye on you,” Machi adds, glaring at Auren.
Auren glances at Rakshala and the others, his expression softening.
“I’ll talk to you later. Thank you—all of you,” he says sincerely.
He turns and walks toward the Phantom Troupe, stepping into their formation.
As if on cue, the entire group begins moving toward the now-open tunnel.
Machi walks extremely close beside him, watching his every move like a hawk.
“Can you please stop?” Auren asks. “It’s cute—for now—but the charm’s fading quickly.”
“I didn’t know you were into younger guys, Machi,” Franklin says blankly.
“Looks like she is,” Feitan snickers.
Phinks sighs. “Drop it, Machi. You hated Jack, too. You never accepted him. He was only with us for a few months, and he blew his first real mission.”
“It’s not about that asshole!” Machi snaps. “He took Paku hostage! And he called her—and me—a second-rate Nen user!”
“You do realize it was a provocation, right? Obviously, it worked,” Auren says, amused. “Are you insecure about your skills or something?”
“Do you want to find out?!” she yells.
“Please spare me, mighty Machi. I’m no match for you,” Auren says, raising his hands in mock surrender.
“Boss! Let’s kill this guy! I can’t take it!” Machi shouts, while Chrollo continues walking, completely ignoring her.
Nobunaga steps up beside Auren. “I’m interested in your sword—and your skills taught by Lidor. I didn’t care about his personality, but his skills were rumoured to be exceptional. What do you say… up for a little spar later?”
That’s actually a great idea.
“Sounds good. I haven’t fought anyone strong in a while—only a few strong people who ended up using swords, but no real experts with genuine skills,” Auren replies.
“You can fight me, too, if you dare. I’ll even hold back, like I showed you earlier,” Uvogin says with a smug grin.
“Sure. Don’t think I’m scared,” Auren says, returning a smirk.
Uvogin’s face lights up with pure joy as he eagerly rubs his hands together.
Ten minutes later, the group reaches their airship, which has landed deeper in the desert. It’s a mid-sized vessel, capable of comfortably carrying about forty people.
Good… I’ll have plenty of space to myself.
After boarding, Auren turns to Chrollo. “Can I ask about the information you promised me now?”
“Elder Nibana. The others went along with it, but it was her idea—and her initiative,” Chrollo replies calmly.
Nibana?! That pathetic, self-righteous ‘family woman’ who adopted a bunch of orphans to feel better about herself? Is he trying to trick me? Or are the other Elders using her as a scapegoat?
“Remember the contract, Auren. I promised to give you the identity of the Elder, and I can’t break that promise without paying a price,” Chrollo reminds him.
“You’re right… I did meet her briefly, back when I left Meteor City. She came across as a weak, deluded hypocrite who doesn’t understand how the world works,” Auren mutters.
Chrollo shrugs. “Her act is convincing. But she’s actually the number one slave trader in Meteor City. Of course, she doesn’t act openly. She raises children and sells them to the highest bidder—nobles, businessmen, perverts, criminals, politicians, religious figures. She simply disguises her business by saying that she found people who adopted them. She even pretends like they are her little spies for the outside world.”
“She had me completely fooled… I’ll admit it,” Auren says, his expression darkening.
“Why do you tolerate people like her?” Auren asks. “Meteor City’s already a hellhole. Wasn’t there supposed to be unity? ‘Thinner than water, yet thicker than blood’… or whatever that line was?”
“Simply put, it’s bothersome,” Chrollo says. “The other Elders either support her or are entangled in her network. At this point, they can’t back out. Meanwhile, we’re preoccupied with our own goals. Her operation isn’t large enough to disrupt the city on a structural level. That said… accepting your condition was one of the easiest decisions I’ve made. You’ll handle her for me. I won’t even have to lift a finger.”
Auren’s face twists into one of realization.
…This guy. He used me. Tricked me into thinking he was doing me a favor—when in reality, I just begged to do his dirty work. And since I never officially joined, he can deny any involvement. I have solved his problems… for free!
“Don’t worry,” Chrollo adds. “You’ll manage just fine. And since I am technically taking advantage of you, I’ll throw in something useful—a Ben’s Knife. I heard you are collecting them? I stumbled on one a few years ago, it’s a mid-era one, it works well with poisons. I’ve got a collection of potent ones too. I’ll send you a few.”
He then presents Ben’s knife, along with a small vial of poison, to Auren, commenting, “payment up front.”
Auren sees the number 131 on it. It almost looks like an arrow with a sharp and thin nest of metal beneath it. Auren has problems describing it. He also sees a few holes, realizing that this Knife was specifically created for applying poisons.
It’s incredibly sharp and deadly, but looks fairly brittle. I like it.
I’ve also neglected my poison training. About time I got back into it. Wasn’t that the knife he used against Silva? Can’t remember…
“I accept,” Auren says, his voice calm, accepting the situation for what it is.
“One small condition,” Chrollo adds, raising a finger. “Spare the other Elders. With Lidor and Nibana gone, the rest will likely fall in line and keep a low profile. I don’t want Meteor City to descend into total chaos.”
“Do you want me to reveal my identity, or should I do it in secret?” Auren asks.
“If possible, reveal it. Afterward, I’ll speak with the Elders and tell them I’ve made a deal with you. They’ll happily accept Nibana’s death,” Chrollo replies.
He thought this through from the start. How many steps ahead was he? It’s like he foresaw everything… Chrollo is terrifying. It’s not Aura, Hatsu, or brute strength—it’s his intelligence. His tactical mind. I hate to admit it, but… he completely outplayed me.
“We have a deal… again,” Auren says, looking a little exhausted.
During the flight, Auren uses his time wisely—dedicating himself to training. He focuses entirely on En, sitting cross-legged on the open deck, alternating between extended use and Zetsu to recover his Aura. Aside from a few hours of sleep and a short span of him ingesting a tiny drop of poison, using Azure Restoration whenever he can’t take it anymore, he trains nonstop.
By the time the airship lands—several days later—his En has expanded by another full meter. The progress brings a smile to his face.
As he looks down from the deck, the familiar sights of Meteor City spread out beneath him: piles of trash, crooked huts, makeshift stalls, crumbling buildings, rusted cars, and stacked shipping containers.
Home, huh? It’s time to get my revenge.