"I... caught a dead man?"
Kurapika stared at Chrollo, whose face was calm, as if he had accepted the fate of failure and death. Kurapika instantly became enraged and shouted agitatedly: "What kind of joke is this! The Phantom Troupe are the perpetrators who massacred the Kurta clan! How can they die so easily?! What was all the suffering I endured for these years, and all the effort I put into getting stronger, for?"
"You're a Kurta clan survivor? Ah! I remember now. You have the same beautiful Scarlet Eyes as them. I'm sorry to say this, but I really am going to die." Chrollo's tone carried a hint of melancholy. Of course, this sadness wasn't for his opponent's plight, nor was it for himself, but rather a lament for the impending demise of the Phantom Troupe he had personally founded.
"Shut up! Tell me! Where did you hide the eyes of my clansmen after you massacred the Kurta clan?" Kurapika grabbed his collar and lifted him up.
"Hahahaha! My apologies, I forgot." Chrollo split his mouth into a malicious smile. The expression was a mix of provocation and mockery.
For an extremely enraged avenger, this was utterly intolerable, and Chrollo quickly paid the price for his words. The infuriated Kurapika didn't hesitate, swinging his fists and savagely beating the enemy who had caused his tragic life.
In just a few seconds, the leader's handsome face was beaten into a swollen, bloody mess, and his mouth was gushing bright red blood, with several teeth shattered. Yet, for some reason, his laughter never once stopped, instead becoming louder and more maniacal.
Finally, Kurapika was the first to stop, pulling back and demanding in a slightly trembling voice: "Why! Why can scum like you kill innocent people without feeling any guilt? Do you not have a shred of human compassion or sympathy?"
"Compassion and sympathy? What are those?" Chrollo spat out a mouthful of bloody foam and countered with a laugh. "We never fear or reject anything, but don't think you can take an inch from us, either. That is the creed followed by the Phantom Troupe and the entirety of Meteor City! For us, death is as mundane as breathing. Tell me, do you feel any unnecessary emotions toward the air you breathe every day?"
"Bastard! Die!" The string of Kurapika's sanity finally snapped completely. He wholly transformed into an avenger, driving his Nen-coated fist viciously toward Chrollo's head.
Crack!
Accompanied by the sound of a shattering skull, the head of the Phantom Troupe leader instantly exploded, splattering copious amounts of blood and brain matter everywhere. About one or two seconds later, the headless corpse fell face-up to the ground with a thump. Thus, the last remaining member of the Phantom Troupe, the Spider's brain, finally ended his wicked life.
Sensing the thick, bloody scent lingering in the air, Kurapika wiped the blood off his face, took a deep breath to force himself to calm down, and looked up: "The rest of the Troupe members have been killed by you, correct?"
"Yes. Excluding the undercover Hisoka, the remaining twelve Phantom Troupe members are all dead. Not a single one slipped through the net." Allen replied with an immediate, affirmative answer.
"Which means, the Phantom Troupe no longer exists. And my only remaining goal is to recover the missing eyes of my clan..." As he spoke, Kurapika displayed a complex mix of confusion, emptiness, and sorrow. From his Scarlet Eyes, which had not yet faded, it was clear that he still couldn't quite accept that the Phantom Troupe, which he had viewed as his ultimate target for vengeance, had been eliminated so easily.
"No. You're wrong. Only the bandit group led by Chrollo has perished, not the Phantom Troupe." Allen corrected pointedly.
"What do you mean?" Kurapika was visibly stunned, seemingly not grasping what this somewhat contradictory statement was trying to convey.
"It's simple. Do you really think the Phantom Troupe was just a simple, reckless band of thieves? Recall everything they've done. Whether it was the massacre of the Kurta clan or fighting the Mafia and killing the Ten Dons, was it only for wealth, notoriety, or the thrill of destruction and murder?" Allen hinted unhurriedly.
To be precise, after repeatedly hearing several Troupe members mention that "the Phantom Troupe will not disappear, it will only be reborn in a different form," he suddenly realized that these guys were not as simple as they seemed. Especially their full-member gatherings and actions often carried an extremely strong purpose, as if they were carrying out pre-assigned missions or commissions from some higher authority.
This means that the Phantom Troupe was likely performing unsavory dirty work for countries, governments, or even the V5, while simultaneously using the stolen wealth to maintain Meteor City's fragile social structure, buying and transporting essential resources for human survival, such as food, medicine, protective gear, and so on.
Therefore, even if Chrollo and all his members were wiped out, the manipulators hiding in the background would quickly assemble a new Phantom Troupe.
Kurapika was not foolish. On the contrary, he was very intelligent and highly skilled in rational analysis. After a brief silence, he realized the complex implications involved and quickly responded: "Thank you for the information. I will continue to investigate along this lead. No matter who the true culprits are, I will make them pay."
"Don't mention it. If you need help, feel free to call me anytime. You know, I'm always interested in targets that are difficult to hunt." Having said that, Allen turned his attention to Hisoka, who had been standing motionless for some time, and asked with a half-smile: "Do you need me to heal you? Though that arm, which was shattered into pieces, definitely can't be reattached."
"No need. Once the bleeding stops, these minor injuries will heal quickly on their own." Hisoka glanced at his missing right arm, his voice laced with strong frustration and dissatisfaction. Regrettably, he had no one to blame but himself; he had been too clever for his own good, ultimately hoisting himself by his own petard.
"In that case, let's part ways here. As a side note, there's a rare card in the Greed Island game called 'Archangel's Breath,' which can instantly heal all of a person's injuries, even regenerating severed limbs. Perhaps you could try looking for it to grow your missing arm back. Oh, right, Gon and Killua seem to be investigating information related to that game too. Maybe you'll run into them inside." Allen dropped a major hint before leaving. Whether or not Hisoka went was up to his own choice. In any case, Allen didn't think the level of the Bomber trio could contend with the Magician, who was radiating astonishing bloodlust.
"Greed Island? Gon and Killua? That sounds rather interesting..." Hisoka rubbed his chin, a playful expression crossing his face, and soon followed suit, leaving the Mafia headquarters.
With his disappearance, the once bustling night finally settled down completely, while the underground auction on the lower floors, under the direction of Marcus, gradually reached its climax.
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You can read the ahead chapter on Patr-eon if you're interested: p-atre-on.c-om/Overgod [Just remove the hyphen to access normally]