In an abandoned building on the outskirts of Yorknew, Kuroro Lucilfer stood alone. He held his phone tightly, the muscles in his jaw clenched.
His usual calm had vanished, and for once, he wasn't reading. His hands were empty. His mind, heavy.
"Uvogin... is dead."
The words echoed through the dusty, broken hall. Kuroro didn't raise his voice, but it rang through the silence, reaching everyone's ears.
Pakunoda, leaning against the wall in a burgundy suit, her short golden hair slightly tousled, slowly pushed herself upright. Her expression was grave. She turned to look at Kuroro with sharp, knowing eyes.
Nearby, Shalnark, still half-sprawled across the rubble in his usual careless posture, sat up straight, the playfulness gone from his face.
Phinks, who had been absently fiddling with his pharaoh-style headdress, stood bolt upright, staring at Kuroro with wide, stunned eyes.
But while most of the Troupe wore looks of sorrow and disbelief, one man reacted differently.
Hisoka. He continued to toy with his deck of cards, a slow, crooked smile creeping across his face. 'Another step closer to challenging Kuroro~'
Kuroro stood still for a moment, silent amidst the rage and mourning. Then, his eyes lifted, empty yet resolute.
"Uvogin is dead."
The air around them thickened.
"We respond in kind," he continued, voice soft, almost gentle. "No exceptions. No survivors."
He turned, walking toward the exit without looking back.
"Yorknew will remember this night. Let's begin."
The sky over the city began to darken. The air grew heavier. And as night fell, a full-blown war between the Phantom Troupe and the world's underground mafia erupted.
Yorknew City, always a mess of violence and chaos, had reached its peak today. Gangsters flooded the streets and alleys, surrounding a group of people like a swarm, but it was clearly one-sided.
Pakunoda, wearing her usual revealing outfit, calmly raised her gun and fired with deadly precision. One shot, one kill, no one could even get close to her.
Not far away, Machi moved like a shadow, her face cold and distant. She gripped her threads tightly, and with every flick of her fingers, heads rolled.
But no matter how many fell, more gangsters kept coming, driven by desperation or madness. It was like watching moths fly straight into a fire, only to be consumed in an instant.
"The east is falling, we need backup!"
"Everyone's dead over here in the west!"
"We can't hold the south! We need help now!"
"North... north... static... beep beep..."
Urgent cries for support poured into the central command, messages overlapping so quickly they couldn't even be listened to in full. But backup didn't matter anymore, whoever arrived was wiped out just as fast.
Inside the command center, the man in charge stared at the monitors, his hands trembling, palms drenched in sweat. The elite gang members they once prided themselves on were being slaughtered like cattle.
Up above, on the rooftop of a tall building, Kuroro stood alone. He gazed quietly at the burning city, his hands gently guiding the bow across his violin. The beautiful melody he played mixed with the sounds of explosions, screams, and collapsing structures.
Yorknew had turned into hell. This was the requiem the Spiders gave their fallen comrade. A grand funeral.
And it wasn't even their full force. Three of the Phantom Troupe weren't present, they'd gone to settle another score. Their target: the one who took down Uvogin.
Leading the revenge mission was Nobunaga, whose thirst for payback bordered on madness. Close behind him were Phinks and Franklin, both strong and dependable enough to handle any threat the Mafia could throw at them.
Kuroro had chosen them carefully. They couldn't afford to lose another comrade, not after Uvo. The Chain User might've ambushed Uvo, but no one knew if he had more tricks up his sleeve.
That's why Nobunaga, with Phinks to his left and Franklin to his right, marched through the streets with only one thought in his head, revenge.
"Is this the place? I'm going to kill every last one of them," Nobunaga growled, eyes burning with fury. Aura flared around him, sharp and wild like blades.
Phinks glanced at him but stayed silent. There was nothing to say. Their anger needed a release. But when they reached the Nostrade building, they didn't find Kurapika waiting.
Instead, a young man stood at the entrance with a relaxed, almost mocking smile on his face. Larry. He stared at the three Spiders with casual amusement.
"Hey, kid..." Nobunaga growled, stepping forward, voice low and dangerous. "Are you the Chain User?"
Without warning, Nobunaga drew his longsword, pointing its sharp tip directly at Larry. Whether or not this guy was the Chain User didn't matter, he was going to cut him down regardless.
"Chain Hand? No, that's not me," Larry replied calmly, the corner of his lips curling into a faint smirk. "But if you really want to blame someone... I'm the one who killed Uvogin."
He spoke slowly and clearly, each word hitting like a drumbeat. Nobunaga, already brimming with fury, exploded in rage.
His grip tightened on his sword. He had made up his mind, Larry would die here and now, so that Uvogin could rest peacefully beneath the earth.
"Wait, Nobunaga," Shalnark interrupted, his voice sharp with concern. "If he really killed Uvo, that means he's no pushover. Don't let your anger get you killed."
Franklin, standing nearby with arms folded, nodded in agreement. "He's right. Stay sharp."
Shalnark thought for a moment, then added, "And we still don't know what happened to Uvo's body. We need to find it, at the very least. Bring him back."
That last sentence struck deeper than anything else. Nobunaga's murderous rage faltered. He didn't care much for cautious advice, but the thought of retrieving Uvogin's body was enough to make him reconsider.
"Fine," he growled through clenched teeth. "We'll take him alive. If he won't talk, we'll let Feitan do the asking."
He glared at Larry, as if he'd already decided how this would end. The three of them didn't consider the possibility that they couldn't win.
At worst, they just needed to avoid any dirty tricks. A straight fight? There was no way one guy could take them all down.
Larry smiled, clapping softly in amusement. "Capture me alive, huh? That's cute. I'm flattered."
He shook his head, as if disappointed. "You're underestimating me... again." Then, with a grin, he added, "Let me introduce you to the three-headed dragon."
"Three-headed what?" Shalnark blinked, confused. But the question didn't linger long. Within seconds, they understood exactly what Larry meant.
Behind them, a towering figure appeared without warning. The air around them thickened instantly, dense, suffocating, as if the oxygen had been sucked out. Breathing became difficult. Moving, even more so.
The pressure was overwhelming.
A malicious aura soaked the entire space, black and crushing. Their instincts screamed at them. Every nerve in their bodies jolted in fear. It felt like they were being watched, hunted, by something far more monstrous than they had ever faced.
Franklin managed to turn his head just enough to glimpse the thing from the corner of his eye, and what he saw made his blood run cold.
It was a creature like nothing he'd seen before. Its body, wrapped in scales of black and deep purple, hovered in the air with unnatural grace. It didn't touch the ground. It didn't need to.