The battle erupted swiftly, but everything unfolded with eerie coordination.
Hisoka had locked onto his target the moment he lunged; Machi's Nen threads had likewise seized hers.
Kurapika had two options—
strike Phinks down immediately,
or, if he couldn't finish it in one blow,
force Phinks toward Hisoka, fulfilling the one-on-one setup.
But his attack wasn't just aggression—
it was also a probe, a test of the Phantom Troupe's response to him.
Kurapika's chains were too recognizable—
he knew the moment he acted, there was a chance his identity would be exposed.
He'd already read the expressions on the three Troupe members when they first arrived.
They hadn't looked at his chains first—
they'd looked at his face.
He trusted his read.
That meant one thing—
their recognition hadn't come from his chains.
But that didn't make sense.
He vividly remembered letting Chrollo go.
How could Chrollo have passed on Kurapika's intel under those circumstances?
That contradiction was at the heart of Kurapika's test.
If he could confirm how much the Troupe actually knew about him,
he could adapt his strategy accordingly.
During Joey's conversation with Hisoka, Kurapika had already picked his target:
Franklin—the tank, the mid-to-long-range Nen bullet user.
No wonder Hisoka had shared intel on Franklin when his own cover was blown.
That bastard had been setting this up from the beginning.
"A pervert with brains… now that's a dangerous combination,"
Kurapika muttered as his chain was batted aside by Phinks.
That realization cemented one thing in his mind:
Hisoka never speaks the truth.
That damned Transmuter.
Even in his exchanges with Joey, Hisoka's words were laced with traps and lies.
The chain that had been deflected re-emerged, slipping through the whirlwind Joey had summoned,
piercing silently toward Franklin,
who was laughing wildly while unleashing a torrent of Nen bullets.
At the same moment, Kurapika felt a surge of heat behind him.
Joey's power.
He glanced back—Joey was moving toward the gaping hole in the hull.
He was leaving the ship.
Kurapika's heart skipped.
But he cleared his thoughts, lunging alongside the chain and Joey's fire to flank Franklin.
The flames didn't block the chain's piercing strike,
but it landed on empty air.
Joey had vanished into the blaze—
using the smoke and heat as cover to vault through the breach.
Hisoka had taken the room,
Kurapika had chosen the hallway and Franklin,
and Joey…
Joey had chosen outside.
The only question:
Would Machi follow?
He didn't wonder long.
A few steps beyond the hull and he felt it—
Machi was already on his tail.
Unity?
Joey sneered.
This was the Phantom Troupe.
Sure, Chrollo might've ordered them to stick together,
but when the heat really hit—
did anyone expect these freaks to suppress their personal grudges?
Joey already had his answer:
No way in hell.
Especially not with him, Hisoka, and Kurapika—
each of whom had taken a Troupe member's life—
standing right in front of them and taunting them.
If they could swallow that, they'd be the Turtle Troupe, not Phantom.
Of course, if they did turtle up, things would've gotten messy.
If the Troupe targeted him or Kurapika, it'd be 3v2.
And Hisoka? No way he'd join a team fight.
Maybe if Joey and Kurapika took two down first, Hisoka would join.
Or maybe he'd just lose interest and walk away.
If the Troupe ganged up on Hisoka,
Joey and Kurapika would probably let them finish him off.
But this scattered setup told Joey one thing:
The Troupe had bad luck.
Joey against Machi?
Not a guaranteed win—
but she wasn't going to kill him.
Hisoka versus Phinks?
Joey didn't see Hisoka losing.
Kurapika against Franklin?
After what happened with Uvogin,
Franklin had no chance.
So this Troupe formation?
Worst-case scenario for them.
Thinking that, Joey slipped through the black mist, his Nen shielding him,
emerging onto the pitch-black outer hull of the Black Whale.
He was now on the third level—midway up the ship's massive body.
Looking up, he saw nothing but darkness—a darkness that devoured sight.
His presence stirred the stillness—
like a stone cast into a mirror-still lake.
Ripples spread.
The mist, calm moments ago, suddenly shuddered in waves.
But instead of fading, each wave summoned more mist,
rising like a tide toward Joey.
Tendrils of blackness curled around him,
and with them came rage, fear, despair—
a flood of hostile emotion.
But his aura stood strong, like a garrisoned fortress.
No matter how many soldiers fell,
the wall held—reinforced by endless Nen.
Behind him, the mist parted—
a figure leapt to the hull like a shadow cat.
Machi.
The black aura reached for her too, and she frowned.
Joey's Nen stirred the wind—
dispersing the mist more efficiently than a rigid shield,
minimizing Nen consumption.
He turned.
There she was.
Machi, wide-eyed and stunned.
Her pink ponytail bounced with her arrival, giving her an oddly playful air.
Her cool, elegant face shifted rapidly—surprise melting into fury.
Her glare locked onto Joey, eyes burning with hatred.
If looks could kill, he'd have died dozens of times already.
But they couldn't.
So Joey stared back, utterly calm.
His En still spanned fifty meters.
He could sense everything inside the ship.
Kurapika and Franklin had begun clashing,
though oddly, their distance had grown again.
Joey had clearly seen Kurapika get within five meters of Franklin—
the perfect range to take down an emitter.
Why the gap again?
Unexpected—but not illogical.
Hisoka and Phinks had vanished into a room nearby,
now outside of Joey's En.
Planned or not—who knew?
But as Joey's focus wavered,
several thick Nen threads shot up from the black mist below—
aimed at his legs.
They slithered like vipers,
cutting through the air like it wasn't there.
But when they struck—
they passed through his body.
"Fake?" Machi muttered, eyebrows twitching.
She yanked, summoning more threads—
forming a massive net that she hurled at an empty space.
Missed again.
She flared her En.
In that instant, she felt a presence closing in.
She couldn't be sure it was Joey—
but she wasn't about to let it reach her.
She attacked.
Her free hand now held needles—
stealthily drawn.
Smart move by the opponent—
recognizing her Nen threads and fleeing outside,
where her reach was limited.
But if they thought terrain alone would win?
They were dead wrong.
This wasn't a guaranteed one-on-one.
Machi's eyes narrowed.
Inside her coat, a small device blinked red.
A tracker.
A gift from the Xi-Yu Family—
one she'd requested specifically.
Once the target was confirmed, she just had to hold them—
reinforcements would arrive swiftly.
She'd already pressed the button—
as soon as she saw Joey, Hisoka, and Kurapika together.
Chrollo had taken the less stealthy members away—
but they weren't far.
Three minutes. That was all she needed.
Thwip!
The net tore through the air—piercing the aura she'd sensed.
Her brows lifted again.
Another fake?
Then where's the real one?
She scanned the area—
and spotted Joey.
He was already thirty meters away,
running up the hull.
For a second, Machi froze.
She felt her En—the bubble around her—begin to fade,
pulled along with Joey's retreat.
Her intel had said his abilities were linked to his En.
She now guessed:
that fake aura she'd targeted?
A decoy, crafted by Joey, sent her way to mislead.
Meanwhile, he escaped.
But… wasn't he worried?
What if she turned around and went to help take out Hisoka or Kurapika?
Just then, someone appeared beside Joey.
Kurapika.
Machi's eyes widened.
"What the hell? Another fake?"
She was starting to feel unmoored.
Her mind flashed back to Joey's double in Room 3101.
Now—
which was the clone?
The one fleeing with Joey?
Or the one fighting Franklin?
She hesitated only a moment, then bolted after Joey.
Didn't matter which was real—
she couldn't let him escape.
And if Franklin was fighting a clone?
He'd figure it out and catch up in a few minutes anyway.
But thinking further—
it became obvious.
The real clone had to be Kurapika.
Because Joey, if he wanted to flee,
was unstoppable on the smooth hull.
She couldn't catch him.
Which meant—
he'd created the clone to bait her.
A trap.
But even knowing that—
Machi didn't stop.
She ran toward him anyway.
"Can't believe she actually chased me…"
Back at the breach, Joey—
the real Joey—stood frozen mid-run,
waiting.
He sighed.
Then chased after Machi.
His En had distorted—
wrapping around her, extending ahead of her.
The Joey running above, with Kurapika beside him?
Kurapika was fake.
And Joey… was a projection.
(End of Chapter)