Ronnel's eyes widened slightly as a flash of recognition crossed his mind. He instinctively straightened up in his chair, his gaze locking onto the figure in the sleek black dress. His thoughts raced as his sharp eyes flickered with realization.
A round face framed by long, jet-black hair that rivaled Illumi Zoldyck's in smoothness, dark skin complementing her understated yet stylish attire—there was no mistaking her.
She was beautiful, her appearance striking and memorable, but what truly captured Ronnel's attention were her snake-like vertical pupils.
He knew her.
To be precise, Ronnel recognized her from the anime.
Though this was their first encounter, her iconic features gave her away instantly.
Like Saccho and Ging, she was one of the Twelve Zodiacs of the Hunter Association—Gel, the Snake.
Gel was a Poison Hunter, a coroner, and a skilled pharmacist with a sharp mind and formidable Nen abilities. Rumor had it she could transform her hands into venomous snakes to strike her enemies. She was neither a moderate nor a radical within the Association and showed little interest in its politics.
In the Dark Continent Expedition, she had joined the scientific research team, showcasing her talents on a larger stage.
And now, unexpectedly, she had shown up here.
As Gel gracefully ascended the high platform, Ronnel's thoughts churned.
Judging by the way the purple-haired man greeted her so warmly, Gel was clearly no ordinary guest.
Her connections to the Matar family were easy to piece together. The family's pride in their "art of killing" made poisons a natural fit for their methods. Gel's expertise as a Poison Hunter and pharmacist must have aligned perfectly with their needs. Additionally, the Matar family's base near the borders of the Republic of Padokea gave them access to advanced medical and chemical research. Gel, a native of Padokea, likely maintained close ties to their advancements.
It was no surprise that some secretive, mutually beneficial arrangement existed between her and the Matar family.
Ronnel's eyes narrowed slightly as Gel took a seat beside the flamboyant purple-haired man, who exuded an air of authority. The atmosphere in the room shifted as other killers and attendees sat up straighter, their gazes snapping toward the two figures on the platform.
It seemed the main event was about to begin.
The purple-haired man coughed lightly, adjusted the microphone, and glanced down at the room with a smug grin.
"Ahem~" he began, his voice carrying a condescending charm.
"Well, well. Despite the... uneven quality of our recruits, this is only the first step. Soon, we'll begin dismantling the Zoldyck family piece by piece."
His words dripped with malice, and his sharp gaze hinted at deeper, more dangerous plans. But just as he opened his mouth to deliver the next line—
"Whoosh!"
A series of sharp whistling sounds cut through the air.
"What the—?!"
A surge of danger gripped Ronnel, snapping him out of his focused reverie. His instincts screamed, and his Nen flared in response.
'An ambush?!' he thought, rapidly piecing the situation together.
The attack's timing was impeccable. Everyone's attention had been drawn to the platform, and the precise moment of the speech made for the perfect distraction. This was no work of amateurs.
Ronnel swiftly raised his arm, deflecting a small black projectile hurtling toward his face. As it clattered to the ground, the intensity of the Nen imbued in the weapon left him momentarily impressed.
'Whoever'sbehind this has serious skill,' he mused. The sheer number of projectiles launched at once, each brimming with potent Nen, suggested the handiwork of a formidable adversary.
Screams erupted around the room as chaos descended. Hidden weapons ricocheted off walls and buried themselves in flesh, eliciting cries of pain and panic. Ronnel's eyes darted to the weapons scattered across the floor—strange, round needles glinting ominously.
"Needles imbued with Nen?" he muttered under his breath. The craftsmanship was distinctive, unlike anything he'd seen before.
Amid the commotion, a figure stepped forward near the exit, blocking the only escape route. The man's standard butler attire contrasted sharply with the carnage around him, and he stood calmly, as if immune to the chaos.
"Tch. This uniform is so constricting. It doesn't even fit as well as Hisoka's clown costume," the man muttered, his tone laced with disdain.
As he spoke, his face began to shift and distort. Seconds later, his transformation was complete—long, sleek black hair and a familiar, handsome face emerged.
Ronnel's breath caught.
Illumi Zoldyck.
"So, it's you," he murmured, his tone soft but edged with understanding. If it was Illumi, then the precision and power of the attack made perfect sense. The Zoldyck family wouldn't sit idly by while being openly targeted.
The assassins in the room quieted as Illumi's cold, emotionless gaze swept over the crowd. Before anyone could speak, his eyes locked onto Ronnel, freezing him in place.
"You're not with the Westin family, are you?" Illumi asked, his voice eerily calm yet accusatory.
The assassins from the Westin family exchanged wary glances, their anger momentarily replaced by confusion.
What's going on here?
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