The shift from the subtle surveillance on the airship to this blatant, heavy-handed approach was jarring. This wasn't the work of a skilled tracker or a Hunter-level operative. This was classic, brute-force mafia intimidation. The poem's warning about "carrion and chains" echoed in his mind. These were the carrion-feeders, the enforcers of the old order he had left.
Kevin didn't panic. He had anticipated a confrontation, though perhaps not so quickly or so crudely. He took a slow, centering breath. His Ten solidified around him, an invisible barrier of controlled aura. He could feel the pressure of numerous mundane, hostile intentions from beyond the door—like a dense, prickly fog. No concentrated Nen presence stood out among them. They were ordinary thugs, muscle sent to deliver a message.
He considered his options. Fighting his way out was possible with his Nen and potions, but messy, public, and would escalate things immediately. It would also reveal more of his capabilities than he wanted to at this stage. He needed information and to control the narrative.
A loud, authoritative knock shook the door. "Kevin Rappelberg. Open up. We have a message for you from someone who misses you dearly."
The use of his old name confirmed their origin. Tedoruka.
Kevin walked calmly to the door but didn't open it. He kept his voice level, projecting it through the wood. "You're blocking the hallway and disturbing the guests. If you have a message, slide it under the door. If you have an invitation, state the terms through the door. I don't open up for unannounced crowds."
There was a moment of stunned silence from the other side, followed by muttered curses. They hadn't expected calm defiance. A deeper, more gravelly voice spoke—likely the boss Leon had been briefing. "Kid, don't be stupid. Open the door. We just want to talk. Make it easy on yourself."
"I am making it easy," Kevin replied, his tone chillingly reasonable. "You're the ones making it difficult by causing a scene at a reputable hotel. The management has certainly called security by now. Local law enforcement won't be far behind. Do your employers want this handled quietly, or as a news item?"
He was playing on their instructions—don't cause a conflict, don't actually shoot. They were here to pressure, not to start a war in a luxury hotel.
He heard a hissed argument on the other side. Then, the gravelly voice again, strained. "Saro Tedoruka remembers your talents. He wants you to come home. All is forgiven. There's a place for you. A comfortable place. Refuse, and... the world becomes very small and very hard for a runaway with your particular history."
The threat was clear. But the delivery was constrained by the setting and their orders. It was perfect.
"Message received," Kevin said, his voice flat. "My answer: No. The world is large, and I have a new profession. Tell Saro his 'pharmacist' has retired. Now, unless you plan to break the door down and create an international incident for your boss, I suggest you leave before this gets embarrassing for you."
He reinforced his words by letting a sliver of his Ren—the intense, aggressive output of Nen—bleed through his Ten. It wasn't an attack, but a wave of palpable, predatory pressure that seeped through the door. To the non-users outside, it would feel like a sudden, instinctual dread, the feeling of being watched by something far more dangerous than they were.
There was a collective intake of breath, a shuffle of footsteps moving back. The aura of casual intimidation had abruptly reversed.
"Y-You'll regret this," the boss stammered, his bravado cracked.
"I'll take that under advisement. Goodbye."
Kevin listened as the heavy footsteps retreated, grumbling and hurried, down the hall. He waited a full five minutes, his En stretched to its limit, confirming they had truly left the floor and likely the hotel.
He didn't pack. Fleeing now would look like fear and confirm their pressure worked. Instead, he walked to the window, looking down at the teeming streets of Yorkshin. The city, a symbol of opportunity and anonymity, had just shown him its underbelly.
The mafia's approach was a problem, but also a data point. They were wary of drawing the Hunter Association's attention (hence the constrained threat). They wanted him intact. And they were using local, lower-tier muscle, which meant Saro's direct influence here was limited to commissioning proxies.
Kevin picked up his phone. He had a local, disposable number. He sent a quick text to the anonymous mailbox he'd used for the mountain guide query, altering the message:
"Urgent change. Need secure local transport and discreet lodging for 2-3 days, starting tonight. Price is no object. Must guarantee no questions, no tails. Reply within the hour."
He then began to pack, not everything, but his go-bag. He would stay one more night in this hotel, a show of defiance. But tomorrow, he would vanish from the grid they were trying to box him into. He would use the city's vastness against them, become a ghost while he finalized his preparations for the mountains and the meeting with Mito.
The encounter had been a test. He had passed by refusing to play their game on their terms. He had asserted control without throwing a single punch. But the game was far from over. It had simply moved to a new, more subtle board: the shadowy streets of Yorkshin, where he would now begin his own counter-surveillance and evasion operations. The Hunter Exam was his primary goal, but this side conflict had just become a live-fire exercise in urban survival and intelligence gathering. He was no longer just preparing to be a Hunter; he was already acting like one.
Kevin stood amidst the groaning pile of bodies, his Ren still simmering around him like heat haze. The room was a portrait of efficient, brutal dismantling. Not a single shot had been fired; his speed and the overwhelming pressure of his malicious aura had frozen them in place long enough for him to disarm and disable them with precise, non-lethal strikes. The shattered coffee table and TV were the only casualties.
He walked over to Bruto Ritz, who was whimpering, shards of plastic and glass embedded in his back. Kevin crouched down, his voice calm, almost conversational, but it cut through the moans like a scalpel.
"Now," Kevin said, plucking a sliver of screen from Bruto's shoulder, making the man gasp. "We can have a calm discussion. You came to deliver a message. I'm listening. But let's establish the new rules first. You speak when I ask a question. You answer clearly. No posturing, no threats. Understood?"
Bruto, his face pressed against the carpet, managed a jerky nod.
"Good. First question: Who sent you? Be specific."
"T-Tedoruka... Saro Tedoruka," Bruto choked out. "He commissioned my family... to find you... to persuade you to return."
"Persuade. With a small army in a hotel room. How subtle." Kevin's tone was dry. "Second: What are the exact terms of the 'persuasion'? What does 'return' entail?"
"Alive... unharmed. He stressed that. Bring you back to him. Any means... but alive." Bruto shuddered as Kevin applied slight pressure to a wound. "He said... you're valuable. Your skills. He'd forgive... everything."
Forgive. The arrogance of the word was breathtaking. Saro saw Kevin's independence as a transgression to be pardoned. "Newborn beast dislikes carrion and chains." The poem was painfully accurate.
"Third: What assets does Tedoruka have in Yorkshin? Who else is looking for me?"
"I don't know... I swear! We're just... local contractors. He contacts through intermediaries... encrypted channels. We were just told to find you at this hotel... and deliver the message. Forcefully, if needed, but not to maim."
It lined up with what Kevin had deduced. Saro was operating at arm's length, using deniable assets. It meant his reach here was financial, not feudal. That was a vulnerability.
Kevin stood up, looking at the ruined room. "You've delivered your message. I've given my answer. Now, you will deliver a new message for me."
He grabbed Bruto by the collar, hauling him to his feet. The other man cried out in pain. "Tell Saro Tedoruka this: The pharmacist is retired. His old formulas are expired. He's developing new ones now, and they aren't for sale. If he sends more carrion-eaters to bother me, the next potion I brew might be one that dissolves family legacies. Am I clear?"
Bruto's eyes were wide with terror and pain. He nodded frantically.
"Good. Now, you and your men are going to clean up this mess. You will call the front desk, tell them there was an unfortunate accident with the furniture, and you will pay for all damages. Triple the estimated cost. You will do this politely. Then, you will leave, and you will not come back, and you will make sure no one else from your family comes back. Because if I see any of you again," Kevin leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper that carried the weight of his Ren, "the conversation won't end with a broken TV. It will end with broken bloodlines. Understood?"
"Understood! Understood!" Bruto stammered.
Kevin released him, letting him slump back to the floor. "Get to work. You have ten minutes before I decide this cleanup isn't satisfactory."
The next ten minutes were a surreal spectacle of injured gangsters limping around, using bedsheets to bundle up broken glass, making panicked calls to the hotel manager with extravagant offers of compensation, and helping each other stagger out the door. Kevin watched, arms crossed, his En ensuring no one tried anything foolish.
When the last man was gone, the room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the city outside. The physical threat was neutralized, but the message was sent and received on both sides. The Tedoruka family now knew he was not a frightened runaway, but a dangerous, capable adversary.
Kevin didn't feel triumphant. He felt focused. The encounter had forced his hand, revealing some of his combat capabilities, but it had also established a deterrent. He checked his go-bag. It was time to enact his disappearance plan ahead of schedule.
He sent a pre-arranged code via text to the secure mailbox, activating the "now" protocol for his discreet local transport. Within the hour, a beat-up, unmarked delivery van would pick him up from the hotel's service entrance.
As he waited, he looked at the stained carpet where Bruto had lain. The world of Hunters was one of ancient ruins and mythical beasts. The world he'd just left behind was one of gilded cages and mafia enforcers. He was straddling both, using the skills of one to break free from the other. The path to the Hunter Exam was no longer just a personal challenge; it was a strategic maneuver in a much larger game of survival and independence.
The van arrived. Kevin slipped out of the hotel, leaving the paid-for room and the stark warning behind. He melted into Yorkshin's endless, anonymous night, a ghost with a potion belt and a score to settle with his past. The next stop was the mountains, Mito, and the final preparations for the Exam. But the lesson of Yorkshin was clear: his past would keep hunting him. He just had to be better, smarter, and stronger than every hunter they sent. And he was just getting started.
Patreon Seasay