No matter the situation, Illumi Zoldyck's face remained a blank mask. It was as if emotions were something he had removed long ago, like a splinter buried too deep to ever fester.
Jon studied him with narrowed eyes, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple—not from fear, but from a mounting sense of unnatural tension. Was Illumi expressionless… or simply inhuman?
Though categorized as a Manipulator-type Nen user, Illumi's physical prowess was terrifying in its own right. He was easily a tier above most Enhancers Jon had fought—possibly even stronger than the Phantom Troupe's Shalnark, who also dabbled in manipulation but lacked the killer's pedigree the Zoldyck family cultivated from birth.
"The Zoldycks aren't Enhancers, but their fists might as well be made of steel…"
It was said that all Zoldycks, save for their mysterious ancestor Maha, were born without Enhancement affinity. But thanks to their brutal training and combat upbringing, they moved like demons in a fistfight—unshaken, precise, and cruel.
And Illumi didn't hesitate.
With a soft sound, his body blurred and duplicated. He employed Echo Step, a high-speed footwork technique that left behind afterimages—multiple Illumis flickering in Jon's vision like ghosts caught between worlds.
To an average opponent, this would have been disorienting.
But Jon wasn't average.
He'd already sparred against Killua and observed this technique before. He knew its rhythm. Its patterns. The shock factor had long worn off.
"Gyo."
Jon's pupils sharpened with focused aura as he immediately activated Gyo. One Illumi shimmered brighter than the others—emanating real Nen, real presence. That was the real one.
And he was coming fast.
With barely a second to spare, Illumi lunged, darting forward like a thrown dagger. His confidence radiated off him; the Nen needles had already been deployed elsewhere, assigned to handle his true target—Orlando, whoever that was.
But this fight? He'd finish it cleanly.
Jon, however, smiled.
He'd been waiting for this.
"Stone Free!"
The Stand exploded out of Jon's back, shimmering with blue Nen. Muscles twisted like braided cables, fists cocked and ready.
"I won't lose to you! ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA!!"
Stone Free launched a furious barrage of punches—blunt-force trauma accelerated to machine-gun speed.
Illumi's arms came up in a flash, bent like serpents. This was his technique—Snake Awakens.
His hands twisted mid-air, fingers like needles, each strike a potential fatal wound. They coiled and hissed with every swing, carving arcs through the air like twin vipers. It was a technique Killua hadn't yet mastered, and it showed.
Despite Illumi's superiority in experience, Stone Free was just slightly faster. And in high-level battles, even a sliver of difference could mean everything.
Jon felt it—he was winning the clash.
But then, Illumi pivoted sharply.
Like a shadow peeling off reality, he spun low to the ground, disappearing from Jon's line of sight—his movement ghostlike, impossibly smooth.
"Where—?"
Before Jon could fully react, Illumi was behind him.
Jon felt the killing intent the instant before the blow landed. Illumi's palm surged with concentrated Nen—aimed directly at Jon's spine.
If it connected, it would paralyze him. Maybe worse.
But Jon was already gone.
No flash. No warning.
Just gone.
Illumi's eyes widened for the first time in the fight. The forest shimmered oddly, like heat waves on asphalt. Something subtle had shifted.
"A spatial ability?" he thought instinctively.
A flash of bloodlust surged behind him.
He turned—
Too late.
Jon reappeared like a phantom, King Crimson already drawn back to strike. The Stand's eyes burned with otherworldly power. It was fast—too fast.
Illumi crossed his arms, hardening his limbs with all the Nen he could muster, trying to shield his vital organs.
But Jon wasn't aiming to kill.
He was aiming to cripple.
King Crimson's uppercut didn't just connect—it ripped through Illumi's defense, shredding through muscle and tendons with surgical brutality.
CRACK—!!!
Illumi's entire arm tore away at the shoulder, blood arcing through the air like a dying firework.
The pain didn't register on Illumi's face, but the damage was real—bone exposed, his body nearly twisting from the impact.
Jon exhaled.
"Gotcha~."
He had seen this moment with Epitaph. The future had played out exactly as predicted.
He could have gone for the kill—a clean Donut through the heart—but chose not to. Not because of fear. Not because of mercy.
Not fear of the Zoldyck family either.
Because Post-Mortem Nen was real. And deadly.
Post-Mortem Nen is a rare and terrifying phenomenon in the world of Hunter x Hunter. It occurs when a Nen user dies but their strong will, emotions, or lingering regrets cause their ability to remain active after death—sometimes even becoming stronger than it was in life. These abilities often act autonomously, fulfilling the user's dying intent, such as protecting something, cursing someone, or taking revenge.
Because Post-Mortem Nen is fueled by intense emotion and no longer bound by the user's physical limits, it can defy normal Nen logic—making it unpredictable, nearly impossible to dispel, and incredibly dangerous.
Killing a top-tier Nen user like Illumi might trigger something unpredictable. Some curses didn't need rituals.
"Not worth it," Jon muttered.
But Illumi wasn't finished yet.
Even with blood gushing from his shoulder, he slammed a heel into the ground, Nen erupting around his feet to blast himself backwards, like a human rocket.
He was trying to escape.
"Where do you think you're going!?"
Stone Free's threads lashed out like whips, wrapping around Illumi's legs and torso.
"ORA! ORA! ORA!"
Jon advanced, fists ready to pummel the assassin into unconsciousness—
But suddenly, gunfire cracked through the trees.
Jon twisted, and Stone Free intercepted the incoming bullets mid-air, threads hardening to deflect the shots.
"Tch—!"
Two large men emerged from the underbrush, dragging their feet awkwardly. Their gazes were vacant, eyes like cracked porcelain.
Jon instantly noticed the thin needles jammed into the sides of their necks.
"Manipulated."
Even their posture was stiff and unnatural, like puppets halfway between death and undeath.
Jon clicked his tongue. As powerful as he was, he still wasn't at the level of casually tanking bullets with Ren alone. Not yet.
As Stone Free guarded him, Jon caught sight of Illumi, bloody and broken—but fleeing like a phantom, whatever remained of his shoulder a dangling mess of flesh and bone, now wrapped tight with makeshift cloth to stop blood from gushing out.
No composure. No parting words.
Just retreat.
Jon sighed, flexing his hand.
"Really...? All that killer mystique and you run off like a dog?"
The wind rustled the trees again. The manipulated gunmen stood frozen, still aiming off like they haven't ran out of ammo already.
Jon glared at them, then at the bloody trail Illumi had left behind.
"You better not show your face again, Needles."