[156]: A Familiar Training
Tzesguerra sighed, feeling the sting of losing a business deal.
A while ago, the wealthy employer Battera had updated his hiring requirements. Any player who cleared the game and brought him the card "Witch's Elixir of Rejuvenation" would receive 50 billion Jenny.
Chaos ensued. Players rushed to grab the Witch's Elixir card—until... well, a bunch of them died.
Now, competition had died down, but that didn't mean the challenge was any easier. In fact, it remained insanely difficult.
After all, if clearing the game were that simple, someone would have done it already in the past ten years.
Tzesguerra just wanted to deliver the Witch's Elixir to Battera and get his money.
Because…
He'd spent too much time on this job. If he didn't get paid, then everything he'd done would be for nothing.
With Gon's group blocked by a certain someone, he needed a new strategy.
"Hey, you two. Come with me."
A blond man suddenly addressed Tzesguerra and Goreinu.
The two exchanged glances, their eyes mirroring the same confusion.
They knew who this guy was.
But… he rarely interacted with them—let alone started a conversation.
Most of the time, he silently trailed behind the white-haired boy, watching his every move. Like a creepy stalker.
Or rather—
Like a guard dog, constantly fixated on his master, while keeping an eye on all outsiders.
"What do you want?" He asked, stepping into the corner with Goreinu.
"Want to make a deal?" Maro stared at them, expression unreadable.
"Let's hear it first." He didn't agree immediately.
"Help me stall the Bombers. In exchange, when we leave the game, I'll pay each of you 1.5 billion Jenny."
The blond's tone was cold, but the air of wealth was unmistakable.
1.5 billion each. That was 3 billion total.
For regular people, that amount was unthinkable.
Even for Hunters, earning that much would take ages.
…This guy was loaded.
Tzesguerra, a seasoned working professional, suddenly viewed the blond differently.
His initial thought—"What does this guy want?"—shifted to—"Oh~ A client."
And when dealing with a paying employer?
Of course, he'd be polite.
"How do we know you're not bluffing?" He asked.
It was easy to promise money in-game. But once they were out in the real world, how would they track him down to collect?
If he disappeared, they wouldn't be able to do anything about it.
"My surname is Pelisha. As in, the Pelisha from the Mafia."
The blond's face darkened slightly—he clearly didn't want to bring it up.
But he had to.
To prove he was serious.
Tzesguerra. immediately recognized the name.
The Mafia family wasn't widely known to the public, but as someone frequently hired by the rich and powerful, he had definitely heard of them.
"All you have to do is help me stall them for two weeks. That's it. If you're still unsure, I can leave the game right now and have the money transferred immediately." Maro said calmly.
"No need. I believe you."
Tzesguerra voice was low, but his gaze flickered toward the white-haired boy in the distance.
"You're not the kind of person who'd embarrass himself by breaking a deal."
The thick-browed, white-haired man said, voice laden with meaning.
If he broke his word, it wouldn't just be his reputation on the line.
It would reflect on the entire Pelisha family.
Still, Tzesguerra couldn't figure it out.
Why would a Mafia prince—who could have lived a lavish, carefree life—choose to follow someone else around like a servant?
Was this some kind of special hobby?
"Alright, it's settled then." Maro exhaled slightly, feeling relieved.
A deal that only cost money was the easiest kind.
"Got it." He nodded.
"Understood." Goreinu followed suit.
Even without the money, they probably would have helped stall the Bombers anyway.
After all, if the Bombers cleared the game, it wouldn't benefit them at all.
But getting paid for it?
That aligned perfectly with a Hunter's code.
With the agreement in place, Maro turned toward Cyr.
Keeping a respectful distance, he placed both hands at his sides, bowed slightly, and requested permission.
"Sir, we'll be going now."
Cyr gave him a lazy glance, waved a hand dismissively, and shifted his attention away without saying a word.
Maro then turned to Sora.
"Let's go."
The white tiger beast bit down on Maro's clothes, then leapt into the air.
It moved as if climbing invisible steps, ascending higher and higher—
—until it vanished into the sky.
"Flying... That looks so convenient."
Gon stared at the retreating white feline, eyes filled with pure envy.
With Sora around, there was no doubt they could stall the Bombers.
"Stop staring and get over here for training."
Cyr stretched lazily, then motioned for Gon to come over.
Protagonists in shōnen manga usually had absurdly strong plot armor.
He figured—
Why not test it?
Back in the Meteor City, the kids there were too weak.
They hadn't even awakened Nen, and if he wasn't careful, they'd die too easily.
But Gon and Killua?
Different story.
Those two were tough enough—
—so he could "play" however he wanted.
"This is exactly how I was trained."
Cyr stood still, arms extended.
His aura exploded, surging skyward like a roaring flame.
His icy blue eyes gleamed brighter than ever.
Kurapika, when in Scarlet Eyes mode, had 100% mastery over all six Nen types.
That meant—
No matter what ability he used, it would always be at full power.
Most people?
Couldn't do that.
Kurapika, in his normal state, was a Conjurer, meaning he could use 100% of his Conjuration abilities.
However, when trying to use Emission-type techniques, he could only exert 40% of their full potential.
Even Manipulation abilities, which were closely related to Conjuration, were capped at 80% efficiency for him.
But Cyr, with his Six Eyes, was the equivalent of Kurapika in Scarlet Eyes mode.
When it came to energy control, the Six Eyes were not inferior to any other legendary pair.
He never wasted energy.
He never misused it.
His energy was optimized to perfection—
—and the results were just as flawless.
"Anyone who steps outside this circle..."
Cyr casually drew a boundary on the ground using Nen—smiling as he declared:
"...gets rewarded with a brutal beating from me."
"Wait, we're starting now?!"
"Hold on, I'm not ready—"
"Getting beaten up isn't a reward at all!!"
Gon and Killua staggered back, eyes wide in shock.
Nen flowed into their vision, and they saw—
A dense swarm of black-blue energy bullets, filling nearly half the sky.
And the moment they realized what they were seeing—
—the stars fell.
The colorful streaks of energy rained down with deadly precision, locked directly onto them.
The attacks overlapped, packed so tightly there wasn't even a gap to slip through.
It was like being caught in a downpour, on an open street, without an umbrella—
—nowhere to hide.
In an instant, multiple Nen bullets struck them.
Their vision blurred.
Stars exploded behind their eyes.
And as they stumbled, struggling to dodge more attacks—
Cyr appeared.
Grinning.
Right in the middle of the storm.
And while dodging the rain of bullets with ease, he—
attacked them directly.
"Ahh~ how pitiful~"
"The way you two dodge—it's absolutely hilarious."
"Actually, let's take it up a notch. Struggle harder. Flail more. Give me a good laugh, won't you?"
"Come on, come on, put some effort in!"
Every time they got hit—
Cyr's mocking voice rang clearly in their ears.
"This guy... I swear, I wanna poison him mute."
Bruised, swollen, and barely able to talk, Killua gritted his teeth, his voice slurred from pain.
For two straight weeks, neither he nor Gon had a single day without injuries.
Every morning, they woke up black and blue, swollen like pigs, only to face another round of hell.
Between Biscuit's methodical training and Cyr's ruthless beatdowns, they had no time to breathe.
Compared to Biscuit's gentle, guiding approach, Cyr's method was—
—far more brutal.
He believed that the only way to grow stronger was to get beaten down first.
And so—
Every single day, he mercilessly thrashed them.
°°°
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