"Hurry up and use [Accompany] to find the Bombers." Cyr urged.
"Hey! Look at their condition! How do you expect them to fight like this?!" Biscuit snapped.
Killua's hands might never fully recover.
There was a chance he wouldn't heal completely at all. Even if he did—With their current strength, they wouldn't stand a chance against the Bombers. Going now was suicide.
"Tch, seriously…" Cyr clicked his tongue in frustration.
"Come here." He gestured at Killua—like he was calling over a pet. Killua had seen Dr. Cyr, the Heartless Physician, in action before. So he obediently stepped forward, already extending his hands.
Cyr ignored them.
Instead, he placed his palm on Killua's head and ruffled his hair mercilessly—going from mildly irritating to downright aggressive. Killua went through three stages of suffering:
1. Grimacing in discomfort
2. Looking like he wanted to say something
3. Accepting his fate in complete silence.
(His soul left his body somewhere in Step 2.)
Reversal technique didn't need direct contact with the wound to work.
"By the way, if your hands were permanently ruined, could you still use your family's assassination skills?" Cyr mused.
"Of course n—" Killua stopped himself mid-sentence. When he ripped out that guy's heart before, his fingers and nails morphed into something inhuman. That ability came from physical modifications. With hands he couldn't control, transformation was impossible.
Cyr's lips twitched. Then he pulled his hand back. He really couldn't understand this whole 'shounen protagonist friendship bond' bullshit.
Throwing everything away for someone else? Completely pointless. And not worth understanding. Even if he was a chuuni, he was a villain-type chuuni who didn't need "feelings."
Killua unwrapped his bandages—his hands were fully healed.
"Nice, thanks." Killua grinned, clenching his fists.
But even now—Cyr was 100% sure Killua still valued Gon more than him.
That was just bizarre.
Biscuit, watching from the sidelines, had a thoughtful look. That kid—His attitude toward Killua… Was different from how he treated everyone else. Sure, he was friendly enough with Gon, but it wasn't quite the same. They both had white hair… were they long-lost brothers? Some kind of sibling love?
…No, something was off.
Biscuit's gaze swept across the group and landed on the lazy white tiger beast lounging in the grass.
The way Cyr treated Killua… Was kind of similar to how he treated that tiger.
So in his eyes, was Killua just another pet?
Wait.
Considering Cyr's usual apathetic attitude, being treated like a pet was probably the highest level of affection anyone could get.
For everyone else, his attitude was simple:
"If unnecessary, ignore."
Even for Hisoka and Gon, Cyr hadn't offered to heal them.
"Killua's hands are fine now. We can go, right?" Cyr prompted.
The Bombers had chosen Masadora as their meeting point.
Masadora was the Magic City of the game, a place where players could buy cards directly. Of course, when the game was still full of players, the shop barely had anything in stock. But after Genthru killed off a bunch of players… The store's inventory suddenly skyrocketed.
"…Look at Gon's condition." Biscuit hinted. Killua was healed—so why not help Gon too?
Cyr glanced at Gon. The boy in green laughed awkwardly and scratched his head.
"With his self-healing, he'll be fine soon enough." Cyr dismissed it with a shrug. It was just a small injury—not worth treating.
The only reason he healed Killua was because his hands were severely damaged. Without them, Killua's combat ability would've dropped significantly.
…Also, white hair bias.
Every fan knew—Loving white-haired characters was basically a national instinct.
A young assassin + strong + genius + white hair + cool & edgy + heir to a family of killers—this kind of character design was peak chuuni bait. No self-respecting chuunibyou weeb could possibly resist.
Looking back at Cyr's list of past favorite characters, half of them had white hair.
Of course, he wasn't a hardcore fanboy of any of them—he just casually admired from a distance.
As for Gon… he wasn't crazy enough, nor did he have that stylish, edgy charm.
But at least he wasn't a useless, naïve shounen protagonist. He was naturally ruthless, which made him decently cute. So… passable.
"I'm fine, really…" Gon said, a little awkward but completely natural in tone.
His physical endurance was insane. Back at Heavens Arena, when he was injured in a match, the doctors estimated it would take 2–3 months to heal. He recovered in less than a month.
"See? Even he says he's fine." Cyr shrugged at Biscuit, acting like he had nothing to do with it.
—This level of blatant favoritism was getting ridiculous.
"If they want to fight the Bombers, they need special training first. Even under my guidance, they'd need at least three weeks." Biscuit stated seriously.
And that was only because Gon and Killua were absolute geniuses who picked things up instantly.
If it were anyone else? Three weeks? To take down the Bombers? Keep dreaming.
"I can stall them for three weeks," Tzesguerra suddenly spoke up.
He couldn't defeat them, but using cards to slow them down was possible.
"That'd be great."
"No."
Biscuit and Cyr spoke at the same time.
"Three weeks is too slow. I don't have that kind of patience." The white-haired boy deadpanned.
If it came to that, he'd just break the contract and kill the Bombers himself.
As for the punishment for breaking a contract?
As long as it wasn't instant death, he didn't care.
"With my patience, I'll give you two weeks. That's the limit." He raised two fingers, voice eerily calm.
"Two weeks isn't enou—" Biscuit started, but—
"No problem. We can do it." Gon cut her off, eyes burning with determination.
"Right, Killua?" He turned to his best friend.
…This guy. Always pulling crazy stunts.
Killua sighed. But hey—what kind of best friend would he be if he didn't go along with it?
"Yeah. No problem." He grinned.
"Don't worry. To make sure you two improve quickly…" Cyr's lips curled into a dangerous smirk.
"I'll personally help with your training."
Why did that sound like a threat?
Gon shivered. "I suddenly have a bad feeling about this."
"Same." Killua looked visibly uncomfortable.
"Then we'll stall the Bombers for two weeks so you can train." Tzesguerra said, eyes flickering toward Gon's neck.
The Lucky Alexandrite Stone was hanging right there.
"As payment, hand over the Lucky Alexandrite Stone." He stated firmly.
A proper, mature, corporate professional never worked for free.
If you put in the effort, you should get compensated.
That was just basic logic.
"Wait, you don't need to." Cyr stopped Gon before he could agree.
The hell? That was Gon's card? Wrong. That was HIS card.
"Instead of giving it to him, give it to me. Maro and Sora will handle the Bombers." He casually gestured toward the blond man and the white tiger.
"You guys can do it, right?"
His smile was sharp, voice low—
—It carried the unspoken message: "Fail, and die."
"Yes, we will stall them." The blond knelt on one knee, head bowed—his voice held a faint tremor of excitement.
The Lord needed him.
Finally—he had a chance to prove his worth!
Tzesguerra was speechless.
In the real world, mercenaries fought over rich employers.
But now, inside the game… were they seriously fighting over business deals?!
°°°
If you want to read ahead and access 20 advanced chapters, check the patreon
Link: Patreon/Moziel