Later that day, Morel entered the hospital room to visit Gelman. Knuckle and Shoto, who had been there, took turns standing guard outside.
However, Morel hadn't dismissed his "Purple Smoke Machine Troop." They were still patrolling nearby.
There were fifty of them in total. As long as he maintained that number, Morel could control them precisely. If there were more, he could only give them simple commands.
After witnessing Franklin's fearless resolve and Feitan's ruthless decisiveness firsthand that day, Morel finally understood why so many professional Hunters feared or loathed the "Phantom Troupe."
Because they truly weren't afraid to die.
As long as it accomplished their goal, they wouldn't hesitate to take an enemy down with them.
Morel remained on alert for that reason, keeping his "Purple Smoke Machine Troop" scouting nearby in case the "Phantom Troupe" attacked.
Although he'd been careful to cover their tracks all the way to the hospital while escorting Gelman, better safe than sorry.
"This is unbelievable."
Morel sat down beside Gelman's bed and peeled an apple for him.
"Just three days ago, you were gravely injured and on the brink of death. But after only three days, you've not only woken up, you can even eat a little."
"It must be my 'Physique,'" Gelman replied.
"Hahaha..." Morel burst out laughing, thinking Gelman was joking. Then he handed him the sliced apple. "It's great to be young."
"Oh, right." He suddenly remembered something. "I've already put in a commendation for you. Feitan and Franklin were both Class A Wanted Criminals. The Hunter Association ought to reward you for taking them down."
Then Morel added in a conspiratorial tone, "Actually, just taking down six Shadow Beasts and Phinks of the Phantom Troupe should've earned you the title of 'One-Star Hunter.'"
"But there's resistance within the Hunter