Inside the hospital room—
The gang enforcers guarding Wright quietly shifted their hands toward their holstered firearms.
The visitors standing before them radiated an unbearable malice from head to toe.
Even so, these gangsters were elite. Despite being within the oppressive range of this hostility, they maintained a baseline level of readiness.
But the tension was pushing them to their limits—sweat trickled down their foreheads.
The bizarre-looking intruders ignored them completely, their eyes fixed only on Wright.
"I'm Wright. What business do you have with me?"
Wright had already composed himself, the prophecy poem he read earlier still echoing in his mind.
As expected of someone capable of becoming a boss—he remained calm even under this kind of pressure.
"The 'Slave Beasts of Wealth,' huh?"
This must be the group mentioned in the prophecy, Wright thought.
"Don't worry, we're not here to cause trouble. Just have a few questions for you."
The leader, a thin man with bandages wrapped around his neck and jaw, spoke in a raspy voice that sounded like his throat had been burned.
"We're acting on orders from above. Your boss already had a talk with us."
Another man in a hood, his face obscured in shadows, chuckled and added, "That's right."
A gang member standing at the door nodded to Wright, confirming the man's statement. He was one of Bruce's men.
"…Alright. If it's something I know."
Wright nodded, his expression turning serious.
"Heh, that's good to hear. Tell us everything that happened that day. Especially the one who hurt you."
There it was. Just as he suspected.
Wright seemed ready for this and began to recount the details of that day, clearly and methodically—from receiving the mission to being injured and eventually leaving in an ambulance.
"Heh… As I thought, you're one of us," the bandaged man chuckled, his raspy voice especially grating.
"One of us, huh…" Wright pondered.
He had already confirmed his daughter's ability. It wasn't a fluke, which meant it was real.
Once they got the information they came for, the visitors left without hesitation, heading off to their target.
With their departure, the oppressive atmosphere lifted and the gang members guarding the hospital room finally let out a breath of relief, their tension draining away.
…
Kevin Carpenberg walked down a quiet night street.
He had just left a restaurant and was on his way back to the hotel to pack and leave.
Looking down at his map and reference notes, he muttered, "What a hassle. Just finding the Hunter Exam venue is this much trouble?"
That's right—he'd done some research into how the Hunter Exam worked.
After registering, the first task was to reach the initial venue.
But usually, that first location was just a decoy. The real exam site was hidden in complex information.
A Hunter had to decipher this and arrive at the actual site within a set time limit to pass the first phase.
In other words, simply finding the true venue was enough to eliminate most candidates.
It's said that each year, fewer than 500 applicants even make it to the real site.
And a good number of them were repeat applicants who failed before.
After that came multiple tests, and depending on the examiner, the nature of each trial could be wildly different.
Even someone with Nen could easily fail if caught off guard by unfamiliar formats.
Luck played a real role in the exam.
Which is why successful candidates each year were rare—sometimes only one or two passed.
"…No wonder earning this kind of privilege is so difficult," Kevin muttered, coming to a stop.
He had wandered into a quiet, dim alleyway, completely deserted.
"I take it you're not happy about something?"
Kevin turned around and asked calmly.
The person who had followed him into the alley pulled down his hood.
He had a plain face—just your average gang thug.
"N-No, I'm not here with hostile intent. I've come to deliver a warning."
The man bowed slightly. "I'm here on behalf of the Nuo Si La family. A few dangerous folks are coming after you. We were told to give you a heads-up. It's our way of showing kindness."
After finishing, he dropped a business card and quickly left.
Kevin watched him go, recognizing him from the hotel—one of the gang's men.
"Dangerous people, huh… Probably Nen users hired by Saro. What a pain," Kevin muttered.
He also understood—people at the top of crime families, used to doing whatever they pleased, rarely listened to warnings.
Picking up the card, he noticed it had only a name and a phone number.
Attached was a check.
Oh?
One hundred million?
That amount surprised Kevin—not because it was particularly high, but because of the meaning behind it.
To him, it was neither a fortune nor insignificant.
But it did show the other party had good judgment—and a desire to build goodwill.
"Interesting guy… Wright Nuo Si La, huh?"
Kevin remembered now. That guy who stood in the back like a consigliere. Didn't really have a strong gangster vibe.
Still, the hundred million was enough to leave an impression.
He exited the alley and returned to the hotel.
After packing his bags, he hailed a taxi and headed out of the city toward the airport.
While en route, Kevin looked into the rearview mirror.
In the quiet night traffic, a car followed closely behind, slowly gaining ground.
"Let's stop here."
"…Huh?" the driver asked, confused. This was practically the middle of nowhere and still some distance from the airport.
"Stop the car."
The driver complied, pulling over as requested.
Kevin grabbed his suitcase, opened the door, and handed over the fare.
"Now, get out of here. Fast."
The driver sensed something was off too—because the car behind them also stopped, and a few dangerous-looking individuals stepped out.
Without another word, the driver sped off.
Kevin set his suitcase aside and looked at the newly arrived car.
"You guys drove here? How convenient," he said offhandedly.
"Tch, you sure act cocky. Think you're tough or something?" said the bandaged man, stepping forward with his grating voice.
"Your voice is horrible. Shut up. Let someone else talk," Kevin replied bluntly.
The man's face instantly twisted with rage.
His teammate burst out laughing. "Hahaha! Told you your voice was annoying—someone else thinks so too!"
This gang-like guy took a step forward.
"Hey, you're a Nen user, right? Heard you cleared the 200th floor of Heaven's Arena. Impressive. But we've won a few matches there too—and there's three of us. You might want to just come quietly."
The hooded man chimed in, "Exactly. We're just here on contract. The client asked for you to be taken in alive—without any injuries that can't be healed. Otherwise, we'd lose a lot of money and ruin our reputation."
Kevin didn't respond.
He had already roughly gauged their power.
From the visible aura and their strong physique, he could tell they were about the level of mid-tier fighters who passed the trials above the 200th floor in Heaven's Arena.
More importantly—
He already had intel on them. Their information came cheap.
"How much is your employer paying you?" Kevin asked, curious about the going rate for people of this caliber.
"Oh? Trying to bribe us?"
"Hah, we're professionals."
"About 400 million Jenny."
Four hundred million. For three of them.
Lying through their teeth. Definitely padded the numbers.
Realistically, it was probably 100 million per person.
What a bargain.
patreon.com/HRT862 for 20 chapters ahead