The princes were all striving to amass more power. The Phantom Troupe was an undeniable force they had to account for. Outside of Ron's team, the Hunter Association, Beyond, Ging Freecss, and the royal family, the Troupe ranked among the most powerful groups present.
If any prince could gain their allegiance, their chances of victory would rise significantly.
Nearly every prince had tried to recruit the Phantom Troupe. Naturally, information about them had been gathered and circulated.
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On the upper levels of the Black Whale, inside one of the private lounges reserved for royalty, Hui Guo Rou sat alone, swirling a half-filled glass of red wine. He was waiting for the Phantom Troupe to return.
There wasn't much left in the glass, but the aroma was rich and full-bodied. Anything that could catch Hui Guo Rou's attention was bound to be fine wine.
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Inside the guarded detainnt area assigned to the princes, Benjamin stood near the observation window, glancing back at the chamber where Camilla was being held.
Then he quickly looked away.
He wasn't particularly concerned about her. Even though her ability was unusual, and even though she was deliberately exposing it—clearly with an agenda—Benjamin remained confident. He was certain the victor would be himself.
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In a dimly lit chamber aboard the Black Whale, far from the noise of the others, Halkenburg sat on the floor with his back against the wall, head buried between his knees.
After a long while, he finally looked up, his eyes slightly red. He had never agreed with the Succession War. To him, the thod was far too brutal, far too cruel.
Halkenburg believed there should be a more progressive way—one where the successor to the throne was chosen through democratic ans, without the need for bloodshed between siblings.
But as ti passed, as prince after prince fell, he began to understand that his ideals were impossible to realize.
What should I do? he thought, gazing up at the ceiling, searching for an answer.
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In the luxurious private spa on the upper decks of the Black Whale, Tserriednich lounged against the edge of a heated pool, surrounded by steam and silence. Several won stood nearby, their outfits minimal and provocative, chosen more for display than comfort.
At that mont, just outside the chamber, a guard stationed at the corridor's entrance suddenly tensed, pupils contracting.
"Who's there?" he barked, suddenly on high alert.
But he actually recognised the people approaching.
Even aboard the Black Whale, with nearly 200,000 humans—despite the disappearance of Tier 5. The current count was still well over 100,000. However, even among these 100,000 people, they were still easily recognised.
Chrollo walked at the center. Nobunaga and Kurapika flanked him on the left. Feitan and Phinks took the right. Pakunoda, Franklin, and Hooker followed in the rear.
The mont the Fourth Prince's guard raised his voice, Nobunaga appeared in front of him.
"Battōjutsu."
Slash!
A thin red line appeared across the guard's throat.
His eyes widened as he clutched his neck, but it was useless. Blood gushed from the wound. Nobunaga sheathed his blade without sparing him a glance. The group didn't slow their pace.
Hearing the commotion outside, more people inside rushed to the doorway, trying to see what was happening. The mont they stepped out, they saw the approaching Phantom Troupe.
"The Phantom Troupe?"
"What do you think you're doing?"
Chrollo held an open book in his hand and looked at them calmly. Phinks cracked his shoulder once, then threw a punch.
Boom!
One of the guards was sent flying, crashing into the wall with a thud. The impact left a dent in the wall as the guard slid down.
Feitan blurred forward. Before another guard could react, he collapsed, already taken out.
Kurapika pulled out a pair of wooden rods—connected, like a short staff. To counter the Phantom Troupe, he had made specific adjustnts to his Nen ability, imposing harsh conditions and restrictions. As a result, his primary ability—Chain Jail—could not be used on anyone outside the Troupe.
Kurapika's Nen had five core abilities:
The Healing Chain on his thumb.
The Dowsing Chain on his ring finger.
The Chain Jail on his middle finger.
The Judgnt Chain on his pinky.
And the Steal Chain on his index finger.
Of these, Chain Jail—the one he once relied on the most—was now unusable.
The others—Dowsing, Healing, Judgnt, and Steal—were not true combat abilities. That's why Kurapika had re-equipped his pre-Nen weapon. While it couldn't match Chain Jail's effectiveness, it was serviceable.
Using a flurry of precise strikes, Kurapika took down one of the guards without killing them.
This mont didn't go unnoticed.
Phinks frowned. "You're still holding back?"
Feitan glanced sideways, the corner of his mouth twitching with disdain. "He had the kill. Didn't take it."
Franklin said nothing, but his gaze lingered on the unconscious body for a beat too long.
Even Hooker, who rarely voiced judgnt, seed slightly puzzled.
Kurapika didn't respond. His expression remained calm, but his grip on the short staff tightened.
In the rear, more private troops responded to the noise.
Franklin raised his massive hands.
"Double Machine Gun."
Aura bullets poured out in rapid succession, slamming into the incoming troops. Though stronger than typical bodyguards like those from the Nostrade Family, these n were still completely outmatched.
Franklin's firepower overwheld them.
As long as he maintained suppressive fire, they wouldn't be able to advance.
A sharp alarm blared through the corridor.
Tserriednich opened his eyes, his face darkening.
"What's going on?"
A guard burst into the room.
"Your Highness, bad news—the Phantom Troupe has attacked."
"The Phantom Troupe?" Tserriednich's brow furrowed. "How many?"
"All of them."
Tserriednich imdiately stood up from the pool. He grabbed a robe and draped it around himself before heading out.
By this point, the Troupe had already reached the central zone. Guards and private soldiers were locked in combat with them.
"Notify Morena," Tserriednich ordered.
She was his current ally. The Phantom Troupe's strength was enough to make even him wary. That was why he wanted backup, even though he didn't particularly respect Morena.
That may have been one of Tserriednich's biggest mistakes in this world. Morena herself might not have seed that powerful—but her connection to Ron was far from ordinary.
By scorning her, Tserriednich had effectively cut off a potential route to Ron.
Then again, because of his deal with Nasubi, Ron wasn't going to participate in the Succession War anyway. Not directly, at least. But he had many other ways to influence the outco.
"Yes, Your Highness."
A young man quickly peeled off down a side corridor to contact Morena.
Kurapika spotted Tserriednich erging and instantly glared at him with raw hatred. Images of the Kurta massacre surged into his mind.
Tserriednich's Nen Beast seed to sense Kurapika's hostility. It turned its head slightly and stepped in front of its master, shielding him from view.
The creature was bizarre—so strange in appearance that it was borderline grotesque.
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