[158]: Post-Mortem Nen

"Why?" Gon stared intently at the white-haired boy. "Why did you do that?"

It was the kind of obsession that wouldn't let go without an answer—borderline paranoia.

A classic Shonen protagonist trait.

"Killing doesn't need a reason," Cyr replied lazily, completely unbothered. "But if you want one, I guess I can think of something."

He stretched casually, as if he hadn't just killed three people.

"If they had lived, you definitely would've tried to save them with 'Breath of the Archangel,' right?" Cyr's ice-blue eyes locked onto Gon. "One original card is with me, and the two copies are with Goreinu. You would've tried to get them from us somehow, wouldn't you?"

Gon couldn't deny it.

He didn't want to force anyone, but… if all three copies were in someone else's hands, what other choice did he have?

"Even if I refused once or twice, you'd just keep pushing. And that would annoy me." Cyr's half-lidded eyes drooped with boredom. "I was just looking out for you."

If something annoyed him enough, he'd want to get rid of it.

It didn't matter if it was a character he used to like—he had zero patience for things that got in his way.

Better to eliminate the problem at its source before it became a hassle.

Besides, wasn't this common in games?

Killing background characters to protect the main ones was practically a standard mechanic.

"Either way, we weren't going to give you the card. They were going to die sooner or later. Lying there waiting for death or getting a quick end—my way was just more efficient."

The more Cyr spoke, the more satisfied he became with his own logic.

Every word shone with the brilliance of kindness, justice, and selflessness.

He really was such a good person.

"I see…" Gon hesitated, then shook his head. "I still can't accept it."

Cyr's reasoning wasn't enough to convince him.

"Well, that's too bad." Cyr let out a long, exaggerated sigh.

Gon couldn't accept the killings—but at the same time, he couldn't bring himself to attack Cyr over it.

"Alright, then. That's that. From now on, we won't be traveling with you anymore." Gon patted his cheeks, snapping himself out of his thoughts.

He looked directly at Cyr, determined.

"Hahahaha—!"

Cyr stared at Gon, then burst into uncontrollable laughter.

For the first time, Gon felt real.

Not just a flat character—but a person.

The kind of foolish, stubborn idealist that had a strange pull on certain types of people.

And Cyr—definitely wasn't normal.

Even Biscuit noticed it—her gaze deepened.

"Was what I said that funny?" Gon frowned, looking at Biscuit and Killua for confirmation.

Biscuit shook her head—but her expression darkened.

Cyr wasn't laughing at Gon—he was fascinated.

Because of Gon's decision.

Because Gon was interesting.

Suddenly—the bodies of the Bombers began to vanish.

They dissolved into white light, fading into the sky.

But then—a surge of red Nen came racing toward Cyr.

"What—?!"

"Who's attacking?!"

"Cyr, behind you—!"

Biscuit and Gon shouted in warning.

Without hesitation, Cyr reached into the air—pulling out a strange weapon from seemingly nowhere.

The iron-gray blade met the incoming Nen attack.

The moment they clashed—the air trembled.

A piercing hum rang out, sending invisible shockwaves rippling through the atmosphere.

For a moment, it felt like something was colliding—canceling itself out.

Then—silence.

Everything returned to normal.

"What was that?!" Gon turned to Biscuit, eyes wide.

If anyone knew—it would be her.

Biscuit's expression darkened.

"That was… Post-Mortem Nen."

Cyr's grip on his Inverted Spear of Heaven loosened slightly.

"Ah… so that's what it was."

His voice was filled with intrigued amusement.

This was the first time someone he killed had manifested Post-Mortem Nen.

Nen abilities usually disappear when their user dies—just like how Chrollo's stolen abilities vanish when their original owners perish.

But… there were exceptions.

If someone was strong and talented enough, their ability could persist after death. Sometimes, it even became stronger, fueled by their lingering resentment.

That seemed to be the case this time.

But what kind of obsession did the Bomber have?

"Resentment? Unfinished business? Who cares." Cyr chuckled, amused. "If he's got a problem, he can crawl out of hell and come get me."

In a world full of superpowers, coming back from the dead wasn't impossible, right?

"The players who still have the Bomber's ability on them are out of luck," Biscuit sighed.

The Bomber had planted explosives on many players. Some had already been killed, but others—more cautious ones—were still alive.

Under normal circumstances, if the Bomber died, his ability would disappear, and those players would be safe.

But now—because of Post-Mortem Nen—the ability had remained.

And the only way to disarm the bombs was to touch the Bomber and say, "I caught the Bomber."

But now that he was dead, his body had vanished from Greed Island.

That method was no longer an option.

Gon and Killua realized the problem immediately.

"Then… what about the other players?" Gon asked, stunned.

"If they can't remove the bombs, they're definitely going to die." Killua answered flatly.

"Not necessarily," Biscuit shook her head. "If they can find an Exorcist, there might still be hope. But Exorcists are extremely rare—it won't be easy."

Gon turned to Cyr.

"Do you have a way?"

His big, round eyes blinked—like a hungry puppy begging for food.

Cyr slowly raised a finger, pointing to himself.

"You're… asking me?" He arched a brow.

Did he look like he had a way? Did he seem all-powerful and omniscient?

"My gut tells me you do." Gon's expression was conflicted, as if he didn't even understand why he felt that way.

"His weapon is strange," Biscuit reminded them.

Ah—the weapon!

Gon's eyes lit up.

Earlier, Cyr had used that mysterious weapon to block the Bomber's Nen attack.

And when the Nen touched the weapon—it lost its structure, as if it had been forcibly erased.

The attack looked powerful, but it had done no damage at all.

"People really do get wiser with age," Cyr muttered, glancing at Biscuit.

It was unclear whether he was mocking or praising her.

"So?" Gon pressed.

"So… why would I even bother?" Cyr's face remained cold, indifferent.

"Even if they all die, it has nothing to do with me."

They were just nameless extras.

Their lives and deaths were meaningless.

Why should he go out of his way to save them?

°°°

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