Chapter 155: Lethal [Accompany]
His flesh was shredded. The hook had caught on his cheekbone, embedding itself
deep. The agonizing pain was enough to make Phinks' vision black out for a
second.
But the pain wasn't the biggest problem. From the jagged wound, a literal
fountain of blood was erupting, forming a pulsating crimson ribbon that was
being sucked into Blinky's nozzle with mechanical greed.
As his blood volume plummeted, a cold weakness washed over him.
Am I really going to die here?
The line snapped taut. Phinks glared up, his eyes full of animalistic fury. He
reached out and grabbed the fishing line.
But he hesitated before pulling.
Even if he snapped the line or pulled the user toward him, it wouldn't stop the
vacuum's suction. He was a leaking bucket.
Death was no longer a possibility; it was a scheduled event.
Phinks roared, his arm bulging as he made a final, savage choice. Instead of
pulling the line, he grabbed the hook embedded in his face and ripped it out.
He tore half his own face off with it.
In this moment, he didn't care about the pain. Adrenaline and battle lust had
numbed him. He stood up, his remaining eye focused on Shizuku.
He clenched his fist and began to wind his arm. Ripper Cyclotron.
If he was going to die, he would take as many of them to hell as possible. He
was charging for a final, catastrophic strike.
"He's going for a suicidal burst," Kurapika's voice was as cold as ice.
He pulled a card from his Binder. To Phinks, the teenager now looked like the
most hateful demon in the world.
[Accompany].
It was a brilliant, cruel move. Even if the spell triggered and took Phinks
along with the group, he couldn't attack anyone while in the transport state.
But his blood wouldn't stop spraying. The vacuum's pull was a physical effect
that would continue even as they flew.
Kurapika was forcing him to watch himself bleed out while suspended in mid-air,
unable to touch his killers.
Shizuku pushed up her glasses, looking at the card in Kurapika's hand. What a
ruthless choice.
But she had to admit, there was no better way to neutralize a cornered beast.
How long until he's dry? Shizuku calculated. Maybe two [Accompany] flights. We
don't even need to go far. Just back and forth to the start.
Phinks stopped winding his arm.
His momentum died. The sheer agony and blood loss were finally catching up to
his brain.
In his despair, a streak of light descended from the sky. As it faded, Ronin
stepped out.
Phinks slumped to the ground, a hollow, bitter laugh escaping his mangled
throat.
Ronin's arrival meant only one thing: Feitan was dead.
Feitan, the most prideful and dangerous of them, had likely gone all-out and
failed. Ronin looked almost untouched—his clothes were barely dusty.
"You win," Phinks rasped.
Maybe he should have tried to use [Leave] the second the fight started. Or maybe
he should have listened to Shalnark and focused on defensive items before
hunting cards.
But regret was a luxury for the living.
The Spider's combat unit—Bonolenov's rage, Feitan's insanity, and Phinks' casual
brutality—had converged on Masadora to finish a task. Their only goal was to
heal their brother and leave. They had moved as fast as they could, but Ronin's
group had been faster.
And they had been stronger.
Blood continued to pool around him. Phinks' vision grew hazy, the world tilting.
He fell onto his back, staring up at the canopy.
By the time he lost half his blood, his breathing stopped. But the vacuum didn't
care about a heartbeat. Blinky continued to drink until Phinks was a desiccated
husk, looking like a piece of sun-dried squid on the forest floor.
Only then did Shizuku click the switch off.
"He managed to break the curse. Tough guy," Neon noted. Her floating blood-text
vanished.
The second half of her prophecy—the trophy—had been achieved. But the "hooked
beneath the sun" part had been cut short by Phinks' own hand.
"The Spiders all have that same edge," Ronin mused. "Maybe it's the culture of
Meteor City. People who crawl out of that hell have a different kind of
resilience."
"Am I like that too?" Shizuku asked, holding Blinky. She was debating whether to
inhale the husk.
Neon was already crouching beside the body, her eyes sparkling.
The dried-out corpse wore an expression of strange peace mixed with lingering
defiance. It was a masterpiece of biological trauma.
"Yes, you're just as resilient," Ronin told Shizuku. "Pack him up. Once we're
back, Neon can turn him into a permanent specimen."
Ronin had his own plans for the corpse.
He didn't need the whole body, just enough genetic material for a medium.
With Uvogin, Feitan, and now Phinks, he had the DNA of three core members.
If he ever perfected Edo Tensei, he could bring them back. He wondered if they
would enjoy the irony of being forced to fight Chrollo as undead puppets.
Shizuku nodded. Neon beamed.
Just then, Abaki emerged from the brush. She carried a massive rucksack filled
with various fishing rods and gear.
Phinks' final deduction had been right. Abaki's rod wasn't a conjured item; it
was a physical tool. By using different rods for different "casts," she could
bypass the cooldowns and limitations of a single conjured medium.
This "gear-swapping" approach, combined with her invisibility, made her a
nightmare for anyone trying to track her Hatsu.
In this fight, Shizuku had the MVP honors, with Abaki providing the essential
support.
Neon and Kurapika were the finishing touches.
Ronin looked around. "Kurapika didn't join the final struggle here. Did he go
after Bonolenov?"
"He did," Neon confirmed. "He used the sniper to finish the one who was
burning."
Ronin smiled. The Spider is losing its legs. It's time to find the Head.
☆☆☆
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