For the trio, the million Berries in Kyle's bag was a fortune. For the pirates tailing them, it was the score of a lifetime.
Kyle and Killua took the right fork in the road, heading up the slopes. Just as the town faded from view, the ambush sprang.
The leader, a man with a jagged scar running down his cheek, signaled with his eyes. Three of his men peeled off, circling through the brush to cut off the retreat. It was a classic pincer maneuver: block the back, pressure the front.
Seeing his subordinates in position, Scar-Face stepped out from the trees, followed by seven grinning pirates, their hands resting on cutlasses and flintlocks.
"Hey there, little brats. Where do you think you're going?"
Kyle and Killua stopped and turned around.
In Scar-Face's experience, children—even tough ones—usually panicked when surrounded. They would run, scream, or cry. But these two just stood there.
Kyle tilted his head, feigning innocence. "Mister, are you trying to rob us?"
Scar-Face blinked. The kid wasn't scared? He brushed it off. They were just dumb kids who didn't know the world. He was a "Great Pirate" with a bounty of 500,000 Berries, after all.
"No, no, that's such an ugly word," Scar-Face sneered, his men chuckling behind him. "We just want to... borrow some money."
"Borrow?"
Killua looked at them, his eyes dead. "Kyle. Should I kill them all?"
The temperature dropped ten degrees.
Killua didn't move a muscle, but his Ren—sharpened by years of assassination training—flooded the clearing. It wasn't just aura; it was pure, distilled killing intent.
Scar-Face's laughter died in his throat.
A primal chill shot up his spine, freezing his blood. It was the feeling of a rabbit staring into the eyes of a wolf. His body began to shake uncontrollably, his instincts screaming one word: DEATH.
How... how can a child feel like this?!
"D-Do you guys feel cold?" one pirate stammered, rubbing goosebumps on his arms.
"C-Captain... why are you shaking?"
Scar-Face couldn't answer. His knees knocked together. He realized with horrifying clarity that he wasn't the predator here. He was the prey.
"P-Please..." Scar-Face wheezed, his voice cracking. "Don't kill us! It's our first time! We'll never do it again!"
"Killua, stop scaring them," Kyle chuckled, placing a hand on the assassin's shoulder.
"Tch." Killua rolled his eyes, retracting his aura. "Boring. I got my hopes up for nothing."
The crushing pressure vanished. Scar-Face gasped for air, wiping cold sweat from his forehead. "We... we'll turn ourselves in! Right now!"
He turned to flee, desperate to put miles between himself and the white-haired demon.
"Leaving so soon?" Kyle's voice was light, but it stopped Scar-Face dead in his tracks.
The pirate captain turned back slowly, eyes pleading. He thought the black-haired boy was the nice one.
"Don't worry, I won't kill you," Kyle said, his smile sharp. "But I need a favor."
"Anything! We'll do anything!"
"Kyle," Killua interjected, looking at the three ambushers who were now creeping out of the bushes, confused. "That's eleven guys total. Do we really need that many?"
"Absolutely," Kyle nodded. "We're going into ten days of hell training. We need the manpower to set it up."
Killua looked at Kyle's enthusiastic face and felt a distinct sense of foreboding. He glanced at the bump still visible on Gon's head from the last session. This isn't going to be fun.
The three ambushers, oblivious to the terror their captain had just experienced, saw their boss cowering before two kids. Assuming it was a trick, they charged, swords drawn.
"Die, brats!"
Killua didn't even look at them. He vanished.
Fwip.
A blur of motion, and he was standing behind them.
Thud. Thud.
Two of the pirates collapsed instantly, unconscious before they hit the dirt. The third froze, his sword raised, staring at the empty space where his targets used to be.
Scar-Face went pale. That sealed it. Running was suicide.
"Bring them," Kyle ordered.
"Y-Yes sir!" Scar-Face screamed, kicking his remaining men into action.
The Slopes Above Shells Town.
The group arrived at a clearing near the peak. Kyle pointed to a dense patch of forest.
"Cut down those trees. Clear this area. We need logs."
"Yes sir! Right away!" Scar-Face barked, desperate to please.
"And remember," Kyle's voice dropped, cold as ice. "Don't try to run. If even one of you escapes... the rest of you die."
The pirates exchanged terrified glances. It was the Prisoner's Dilemma from hell. They weren't just captives; they were each other's jailers.
"But," Kyle softened his tone, dangling the carrot. "It's only for ten days. Work hard, and in ten days, you walk away free."
Hope. It was a powerful drug. The pirates, seeing a light at the end of the tunnel, grabbed axes and machetes and set to work with frantic energy.
Kyle smirked. Fear controlled the body, but hope controlled the will.
Just then, a heavy rhythmic thudding came from the path below.
Gon appeared.
He was carrying a massive burlap sack that towered over him—easily three times his size. It was stuffed with meat, water, and supplies. Every step he took sank two inches into the hard-packed earth.
One of the pirates stopped chopping, his jaw dropping. That bag... it has to weigh five hundred pounds!
Killua watched Gon trudging up the hill. A mischievous grin spread across his face.
He slipped into the blind spot, leaped silently into the air, and landed lightly on top of the giant sack.
At first, Gon didn't notice. But then, Killua shifted his weight.
Heavy.
It wasn't just Killua's body weight. He was pressing down, using his muscle control to make himself feel like lead—a trick from the Zoldyck torture chambers.
Gon's brow furrowed. He knew exactly who was doing this. But Gon Freecss didn't back down from a challenge. He gritted his teeth, his leg muscles bulging as he forced himself forward.
Step by step. The ground cracked under his boots.
By the time he reached the clearing, sweat was pouring off him like rain. He dropped the bag with a ground-shaking crash, gasping for air.
Kyle looked at Gon, who hadn't used a drop of Nen, relying purely on raw muscle to carry the impossible load.
"Gon," Kyle smiled, his eyes glinting with the promise of pain. "Tired?"