Kisho slowly walked out of the concert hall.
The long corridor outside was carpeted with blood and corpses.
He looked around in a daze, then heard a shrill scream—from the second basement level.
He hurried toward B2. Just as he was about to step onto the stairs, he saw from afar the butler whose strength terrified him—Rawn—lying in a pool of blood, eyes wide open in death.
Just as Kisho was about to step onto the final stair, his footsteps abruptly stopped. In the next instant, he leaped backward, narrowly avoiding a sword flash so fast it left no afterimage.
"Feitan, he's one of us."
"I saw that. Otherwise, do you think he could've dodged?"
The voices of "acquaintances" came from above.
Kisho raised a hand and wiped away the shredded bangs from his forehead.
He saw the exhibition hall littered with the corpses and severed limbs of attendants in suits and ties, and everything that should have been inside the display cases had vanished without a trace.
Shalnark was editing something on his phone. When he saw Kisho, he smiled.
"Ah, how did you end up in such a sorry state?"
"Are you hurt?" Machi walked over to his side and asked softly.
Kisho slowly shook his head. He pointed at the people herded into the corner—elderly men who, just an hour ago, had still looked vigorous and distinguished.
"...Them...?"
"Well done, Kisho."
Chrollo's voice drifted over quietly.
Kisho felt his mind suddenly grow dull. He found it hard to understand what these people were saying, or what they were doing.
Chrollo said slowly, "These people were left for you."
Kisho didn't know whether he understood, but he heard himself ask in a trembling, barely coherent voice,
"What...?"
"It wouldn't be interesting if I explained it too clearly." Chrollo curled his lips slightly. "Do I really need to spell it out? Fine."
"Your final entry test. Kill them."
The people pressed into the corner clearly heard this. They screamed and sobbed,
"Don't kill me, don't kill me..."
Phinks walked over and, one by one, dislocated their jaws.
"Mmngh... mmngh..."
Despairing, grief-stricken moans came from their throats, but to Kisho, it felt as though those sounds were coming from himself.
He said hoarsely, "They... pose no threat to you..."
"They saw our faces," Shalnark cut him off. "If there are any survivors, what Helt Wood did will all be pinned on us."
Kisho: "..."
Nobunaga let out an irritated sigh and said, "Kid, this is for your own good too. None of these people have simple backgrounds. And after you went in with them, you're the only one who wasn't affected. Do you really think that if you spare them now, they'll spare you later?"
Kisho fell silent. It seemed like he was thinking about many things—or perhaps nothing at all.
He slowly stepped back half a pace and said quietly, "I... won't kill people."
What he meant wasn't that he lacked the skill to kill.
It was that—he would not take another person's life with his own hands.
Never.
"Tch, coward," Feitan said disdainfully.
Pakunoda looked at Kisho, frowning slightly.
"...Boss, he's not suited to join the Troupe."
She said slowly, "Strip his memories and let him fend for himself."
Chrollo curled his lips and looked at Kisho.
"Have you decided?"
"...I don't understand."
Kisho met his gaze.
"Why kill them? They're completely unrelated people. If you want something, there are other ways—"
Uvogin spat on the ground.
"We're thieves, kid. What are you talking about? If thieves want something, of course we take it by force!"
He scratched his head, utterly baffled.
"And besides, killing unrelated people is no big deal, right?"
Kisho: "..."
He slowly repeated Uvogin's words.
"Thieves?"
He ground his teeth, enunciating every word.
"I will never join you! Never!"
Silence fell over the group.
Chrollo shrugged, turned away, and said, "Shalnark."
Shalnark pulled out his phone and said softly, "You got it."
Kisho suddenly felt that his body was no longer under his control.
He moved stiffly, walking toward the people in the corner.
He slowly raised his hand, grabbed one person by the collar, and casually lifted them up.
He slowly brought his fingers together, Nen flooding into his fingertips, staring at the tear-streaked eyes full of desperate pleading.
His fingertip lightly slashed—
Blood sprayed out, splashing all over his face.
Sweet, fishy, sticky blood slid slowly down his cheeks.
He loosened his grip slightly, and the body dropped to the floor with a dull thud.
...
It was as if his soul had separated from his body.
No matter what he did, he couldn't control even a single finger.
He watched himself, one by one, take away these people's final moments, take away the warmth of their bodies, take away... their lives?
The last one.
"Thud."
Kisho knelt on the ground, retching violently. His face was as pale as a corpse. His stomach was already empty, yet he still felt nauseous, as if he were about to vomit up his very organs. His ears rang violently.
He didn't know if someone said something, but the others began to walk out.
When Feitan passed by him, he tossed out a remark.
"Useless."
When Shalnark passed by, he reached out and patted Kisho on the shoulder, then pulled an antenna from the back of his collar. He looked at Kisho, still wearing that bright, cheerful smile.
"Don't look at me like that..."
Looking at Kisho, whose eyes were filled with killing intent, he continued,
"It was the boss's order. I couldn't help it."
In the end, only Chrollo remained in the room.
He walked up to Kisho and looked down at the kneeling boy.
"Now I can tell you what you wanted to know."
"I... won't... join you."
"We are the Phantom Troupe. B-rank—no, after this, we'll probably be on the A-rank wanted list." Chrollo spoke slowly, as if he hadn't heard Kisho at all.
"As you know, my name is Chrollo Lucilfer. I am the leader of the Troupe."
"I... won't—"
Chrollo: "This mission went very well—far beyond expectations. From now on, you are—"
Kisho suddenly stood up.
Chrollo looked at him.
One of the boy's eyes had turned into the "silver-blue" Chrollo had seen that day.
The boy spoke word by word, his eyes filled with boundless killing intent and deathly resolve.
"Even if I die— I absolutely, absolutely, absolutely will not join you!"
Violent Nen exploded outward in all directions. Where Chrollo had been standing, a circular crater two meters across now gaped.
Kisho collapsed to the ground, curling into himself.
Chrollo glanced at the ground, then back at the boy.
This was unexpected. This outburst hadn't been a complete loss of reason—he had chosen to throw the raging flames at himself to seize a chance to escape.
Then, according to the agreement, anyone who dared to flee would have their ability taken, their limbs broken, and be locked in a box.
But still...
This little brat seemed to have secrets far more interesting than his logistical abilities.