Illumi didn't even look back. He bolted into the forest, silent and unhesitating. No sharp words. No glares. No revenge.
Just survival.
Jon let him go. He spent the next thirty seconds eliminating the two gun-wielding puppets Illumi had left behind. Controlled by Nen needles, they weren't really people anymore—just disposable meat puppets driven by a distant will.
Jon ended them quickly.
He could've erased time again to do it faster, but he held back. King Crimson's time erasure wasn't something he liked to use frivolously. Unlike simple time stop, King Crimson's ability altered the state of the entire world—even reality noticed when it was used. It was a big move, and every big move leaves echoes.
Gunshots and explosions continued to ring in the distance—sharp, rhythmic, like a war drum calling him forward.
Jon took off in that direction.
He didn't know why, exactly. Instinct, maybe. A sense that whatever was happening over there held the key to escaping this godforsaken patch of wilderness.
"Ira Ira!" a sharp voice rang out ahead.
Nen bullets—tiny, blazing hot spheres of raw aura—ripped through the air. Jon emerged from the trees and saw her again: the little loli from before. Her hands flared with energy, firing precision Nen projectiles at Illumi's puppets. Despite her size, she moved like a whirlwind of death, retreating skillfully while keeping her enemies at bay.
She was powerful. More powerful than Jon had given her credit for. Her technique was elegant, her execution ruthless. Her Nen bullets weren't just flashy—they were deadly. And she made sure none of the pawns got close.
But there were too many of them. Too many bodies with needles in their necks. Too many limbs lurching at her, controlled by an unseen puppeteer.
And worst of all—Illumi wasn't even fighting. With one arm now a mangled wreck thanks to Jon, he'd retreated into the shadows, silently directing his human weapons like a master conductor. He didn't need to fight directly. He just kept feeding new puppets into the battle.
That bastard learns fast, Jon thought. No more close-range fights for him. He's staying behind the curtain.
In the middle of the chaos, Jon spotted a middle-aged man—unkempt, panicked, and completely untrained. He was scurrying around behind the little loli, ducking under flying debris and covering his head like that would protect him. Jon instantly understood: this guy was Orlando.
The man Illumi had been hunting.
Figures, Jon thought. If the loli was alone, she'd probably be able to escape. But dragging around deadweight like that? She doesn't stand a chance.
Just then, a fresh wave of black-clad soldiers burst from the trees, raising their rifles. Jon barely had time to react before they turned their guns on him.
"S-H-I-T."
Gunfire roared.
The little loli's situation suddenly improved—most of the pressure had shifted to Jon. Bullets tore through the forest, snapping branches and kicking up dirt. But Jon didn't flinch. Stone Free appeared with a snap, effortlessly weaving a mesh of threads to deflect the bullets. His face didn't even twitch.
And just like that, Jon became the new center of gravity in this battle.
He stood in the open, surrounded by enemies. Unshaken.
The gunmen stared. The loli paused. Even Orlando peeked up from behind his arms.
And Illumi… Illumi stared straight at him. Still expressionless, but Jon could see it now—the twitch in his cheek, the subtle flex of his jaw, the way veins were starting to bulge near his temple.
The poker face was cracking.
Good, Jon thought, narrowing his eyes. Stay angry. It means you're afraid.
And for the first time in this whole cursed jungle mess, Jon didn't feel like the prey anymore but the predator.
The little loli seized the moment when Illumi's attention faltered. With a sharp cry and gritted teeth, she fired off a high-speed Nen bullet directly at him.
"Damn it! Don't run, you bastard!" she shouted, her expression twisted in a mix of fury and frustration.
But it was already too late—Illumi had managed to complete his mission. Mr. Orlando, the target he'd been after, lay dead in the underbrush, his body lifeless and blood pooling beneath him as a needle pierced his neck.
Jon stood there, stunned, silently asking the three great questions of the soul:
What just happened? Who am I? Why am I even here?
The little loli, panting heavily, glanced at him with an expression that was ferocious... and oddly cute, despite the blood and dirt on her face. The situation was absurd enough to make Jon nearly laugh.
Neither of them said it aloud, but the frustration hung thick in the air. They had both missed their best chance to take Illumi down. And now? All they could do was take their anger out on Illumi's remaining puppets—mindless "tools" animated by Nen needles.
Gunfire and dust settled. The chaos faded. What was left was the strange silence of a forest that had seen too much.
Once again, an awkward atmosphere bloomed.
But Jon wasn't going to just walk away.
The little loli was his only lead out of this nightmare. If anyone had a plan or a signal to call for help, it'd be her.
"Hey, little sis," Jon said casually, brushing debris off his clothes, "what's your name?"
A simple question. But Jon—bachelor of two lifetimes, champion of solitude—had no idea how to talk to girls. He relied on strength more than charm, and it showed.
She shot him a deadly glare.
Jon flinched slightly, but he waited.
"…Rin," she finally muttered, voice sharp but tired. "Rin. Fifteen. Don't call me 'little.'"
Jon blinked. She looked eleven, maybe twelve, with her hair done up in twin buns and a torn blue combat coat covered in scratches, ash, and aura burns.
Fifteen? She's older than me?! Jon thought, startled.
She turned away and crouched over the body of the now-deceased Orlando, rifling through his clothes without an ounce of grief. Her hands moved with practiced efficiency. Moments later, she retrieved a satellite phone from his bloodied jacket.
Jon raised an eyebrow. "…No reaction?"
"First mission," she said coldly. "Failure. It is what it is."
Apparently, Rin had only been allowed to accept this mission because her mentor vouched for her. She hadn't expected to be thrown into a full-blown conflict with a Zoldyck assassin. Yet even after all that, she was steady. There were no tears. No breakdown. Only focus.
She's pretty skilled i guess, Jon thought.
Rin glanced at the screen of the satellite phone and sighed.
"We'll have to wait five days," she said flatly. "This isn't Padokea territory anymore but instead a buffer zone between two countries. The rescue team can't just land here without government clearance. We have to go through the embassy."
"Five days?" Jon stared at her, dumbfounded. "That's it? We just… wait here?"
Rin looked at him, unamused. "Yeah. That's how it works."
Jon was in disbelief. Back in America, it would've taken a couple of hours at most. It's 2025! There are drones, high-speed helis, even AI-coordinated medevac routes! Not five whole f—
He stopped himself. This isn't Earth anymore, he reminded himself. This is the Hunter World. Different rules. Different standards.
Rin, meanwhile, was already pulling a small sleeping bag from her pack and setting up camp like it was routine.
Jon sighed, rubbing his temples.
"Five days, huh?" he muttered.
He looked around at the wreckage, the burned-out trees, and the fading scent of gunpowder.
"…Guess we're gonna be real good friends by then, huh?"
Rin didn't answer. She just rolled her eyes and lay down.
At that moment, a distant mechanical whir broke the forest's uneasy silence.
A helicopter, camouflaged against the dense greenery, began to lift from a hidden clearing deep within the trees. Despite its size, it made surprisingly little noise—its blades slicing through the air in near-silent rhythm, a sign of its elite military-grade design.
Inside the helicopter's cabin, a young man with long black hair sat expressionlessly, his face devoid of pain or fear. One of his arms had been completely torn off—severed cleanly at the shoulder.
Without uttering a word, Illumi Zoldyck, the eldest assassin of the Zoldyck family, calmly placed his mangled arm into a sterile, chilled incubation case designed for high-level biological preservation. His movements were smooth, mechanical, uncaring.
"Fly toward Kukuroo Mountain," he told the pilot in his usual monotone voice, never bothering to glance out the window.
The helicopter banked left and ascended toward the horizon, the blazing red sun sinking slowly behind the mountains.
Puri puri puri buzz~
Illumi's phone began to vibrate in his pocket. He glanced at the screen. The caller ID read: Milluki.
He accepted the call.
"What is it, Milluki?"
"Nothing much," came the greasy voice of his overweight younger brother. "Just that my little birdy told me your arm got ripped off. What the hell happened? That bad, huh?"
Illumi was silent for a few seconds. "Order me a new one," he said flatly. "High-grade cybernetic, reinforced bones."
"Huh? That expensive model again?" Milluki grumbled through a mouthful of chips. "Fine, but I'm deducting it from your mission cut. Just saying."
"That's fine."
"…You really lost the whole arm?" Milluki asked again, more curious now than mocking.
"I did."
The sound of typing halted. "You're not kidding."
"I'm sending over two profiles." Illumi tapped his screen, and within seconds, two files popped up in Milluki's inbox—encrypted data packets on Jon and Rin.
"Set Jon as a permanent non-kill target," Illumi instructed. "His ability… it's too dangerous. If we kill him, the backlash won't be worth it. Tell father and grandfather too—no exceptions. We don't accept requests to eliminate him, no matter the bounty."
"…Huh." Milluki leaned back in his chair, stunned. It was rare—unheard of, even—for Illumi to speak so highly of someone outside the Zoldyck family. "Got it," he said quietly.
He cracked open the data packet, watching the screen fill with Hunter Association intel. Jon had only passed the Hunter Exam last year. His file showed recent Nen certification. Raw rookie… yet he did this much?
"Another monster," Milluki muttered, suddenly thinking of their seven-year-old prodigy brother Killua, who was still playing around on the 200th floor of Heaven's Arena.
Back in the chopper, Illumi closed his eyes. For the first time in a long while, a sliver of regret bloomed in his mind.
This mission had seemed simple. Just another rich man to quietly erase.
But things spiraled.
The target, Orlando, had been craftier than expected—chartering one airship, then secretly boarding another while his bodyguards occupied the first to throw off trackers. When Illumi arrived, the destination was already under Orlando's control. Locating him again would've been messy.
So Illumi deployed plan B.
He had Milluki detonate a high-tech explosion bird drone mid-air, obliterating the second airship and flushing out the real Orlando. What he didn't expect was that Orlando had hired a competent Hunter—Rin—to protect him. Even worse, that same airship had carried a variable: Jon.
Illumi had already managed to wrestle back control with his puppet-like "tool people," preparing to wear Rin down and finish her off. He had it under control.
Then Jon appeared.
In one swift moment, Jon had turned the tables, ripped his arm clean off, and left the legendary assassin limping away in disgrace.
Jon's abilities… they weren't just strong. They were unnatural. Quiet. Untraceable. He hadn't even felt the time skip until it was over.
If Illumi weren't a Zoldyck, he would've abandoned the mission long ago. But pride was stitched into their DNA.
Even now, Rin remained a loose end. In top condition, Illumi could've ended her in under two minutes. But with only one arm and Jon still lurking, the risk was no longer worth it so he had to escape.
He leaned back in his seat, eyes half-lidded as the helicopter broke through the upper cloud line.
His hand throbbed faintly where the arm had once been.
This mission was a big loss.
But at least he knew better now. The name Jon would be remembered. Not out of hate—but out of caution.
Below, the forest faded into shadow. Among the trees, birds began to sing again, oblivious to the life-and-death battle that had taken place.
Above, the sky darkened.
Tonight was the new moon.
The moon, just a curved sliver of gold, hung quietly in the middle of the dark sky like a hunter's blade.
Far away, deep within a mountain temple, Chairman Netero watched a surveillance feed from earlier that day. It was grainy, recorded remotely, but he saw what he needed.
He stroked his chin, a slow smile curling across his weathered face.
"I see."