At one in the morning the next day, Gelman switched shifts with Ging and crawled into his warm sleeping bag.
With his excellent Physique, he was still alert enough to resist a day's worth of fatigue and drowsiness.
Perhaps his clear-headedness also had something to do with Ging's heartfelt words.
Gelman hadn't agreed right away. Instead, he'd promised to give it careful consideration. He didn't like making promises lightly; promises meant responsibility, especially when they concerned the future of all Greed Island.
But he couldn't let the matter keep him awake forever. Tomorrow would surely be another grueling day, and he needed proper rest.
So, with his eyes closed and his body lying flat in the sleeping bag, Gelman expertly circulated his Nen Energy through his body, gradually relaxing both mind and body.
At last, at some point, he drifted into a hazy dream.
In the blur, he saw a pitch-black night sky, haphazard wooden huts and tents, and ragged people seated around a bonfire.
Though no one had told him, he somehow knew this was Meteor City.
Slowly, he sensed something. He looked down and saw a black mire had appeared beneath his feet, bubbling with foam.
A thin, bony hand reached out and grabbed his foot, dragging him down into the mire.
Yet he was strangely calm—so calm that he didn't react at all, letting the hand pull him in...
Gelman...
He heard someone calling from far away.
"Gelman!" Someone shoved his shoulder, jolting him awake. Instinctively, he conjured his Meat Saw.
In the dim room, a figure blocked Gelman's view. One hand held down the Meat Saw, while the other rested against the person's lips in a gesture for silence.
The figure shifted aside a little. Light from the lamppost and the moon streamed in one after