The elevator rose with a rustling sound.
Only the light above was on in the enclosed space.
Dead silence.
The only two people inside stood in silence.
Their eyes were vacant, their faces lifeless.
An inscrutable emotion was brewing between them.
Like the calm before a storm.
Dark clouds gathered.
An eerie, terrifying stillness.
The elevator floated upward, floor by floor, as the crimson numbers slowly changed.
The towering man lowered his gaze, expressionless as he watched the child beside him, who seemed to have no sense of danger at all.
He couldn't help but sneer.
The next moment, he slowly raised his iron hook, then swung it down in a flash.
Metal scraped through the air.
Clang.
That didn't feel right!
The man's eyes widened, then his brows knitted together.
No, something was wrong. The kid had dodged!
Before he could figure out what had happened, his body—honed by years of living on the edge—reacted faster than his thoughts.
He twisted instinctively, pain flaring through his waist.
His muscles strained and tore as he forced his body beyond its natural limits.
He hooked the elevator wall with his iron hook, trying to right himself.
But Coleman's blade was faster.
Clang!
The short blades met.
The man had no choice but to fall to the floor, holding his short blade in one hand to fend off the dagger.
Sweat ran down his face. He hadn't expected the child to be so fast.
In just a few seconds, the advantage had completely shifted.
The elevator was too narrow for the man on the floor to make use of his size.
He swallowed and narrowed his eyes. With a powerful pull, he yanked the iron hook from the elevator wall.
Then he swung it hard.
Coleman merely smiled faintly.
He leaped upward.
His body flipped, but his feet stayed firmly stuck to the elevator ceiling.
He hung upside down.
Coleman's smile widened. He could already picture the man spraying blood everywhere.
What a hassle for the staff, though.
Cleaning the elevator would be a lot of work.
The man looked up at the child and smiled too.
The pressure of Nen instantly filled the elevator.
His terrifying killing intent nearly left Coleman unable to move.
"Kid, I'll admit you're impressive."
The man grinned viciously at Coleman's startled expression.
He swung the short blade in his hand.
"But too bad. Someone's paid for your life!"
The man put even more force into his swing, already imagining the child's head hitting the floor.
But the instant the blade touched the boy, the man saw him smile.
It was a strange, dangerous smile.
His blood-red eyes shimmered with a peculiar light.
As if blood flowed within them.
As if evil spirits were roaring, railing against the injustice of the world.
Those eyes seemed to hold an entire world.
Like hell itself.
Drawn in by those strange eyes, the man paused involuntarily for an instant.
That single instant cost him his life.
The man suddenly found himself unable to move his limbs. Something seemed to be tightening around them.
And he couldn't struggle free.
The pressure only grew stronger as time passed.
Crack, crack.
His bones snapped under the strain.
Only then did the man realize that, somehow, nearly invisible threads had burrowed into his flesh!
Why hadn't he felt them?
As the question crossed his mind, pain struck his neck.
In a daze, the man somehow saw his own body from a bizarre angle!
Had his head been cut off?
That was the last thought he had.
Then he fell into endless darkness.
The elevator facing the man's body was already spattered with blood.
The instant the threads sliced through his artery, blood sprayed out like a fountain.
It splashed everywhere, as if a calligrapher had flung ink across the metal walls, coating them in vivid red with a few swift strokes.
Ding.
The elevator stopped.
A white-haired child slowly stepped out.
A little blood had splattered onto him.
He took out a handkerchief and carefully wiped away the blood.
His expression was careless as he tossed the soiled handkerchief aside.
Then he flicked out a short blade and wedged it into the elevator door.
The doors couldn't close, and the elevator couldn't move.
The white carpet around the elevator was slowly stained red by the seeping blood.
Inside was a corpse bound up in countless threads.
Drip.
Drip.
Red trickled down the threads and gathered into a small puddle.
Its arms and legs were tightly tangled together, the corpse hanging high in a position that twisted its body beyond the limits of human movement.
Only a bit of flesh still connected the head.
Click.
A camera shutter sounded.
"Perfect!"
A small, satisfied voice rang out beyond the elevator.
Coleman put away his souvenir and smiled faintly.
He walked over to the only phone booth on the floor.
Without dialing, he picked up the phone and held it to his ear.
"Hello, how may I help you?"
"Elevator B-213. Sorry for the trouble, but could you take care of it?"
"...All right."
"Thank you."
"No problem. It's our job."
"Oh, please wear a gas mask when you take care of it."
"...All right."
Coleman thanked the person and hung up.
He looked out the glass window. This was the top floor of Heavens Arena.
A place where business was taken care of.
"Tch, this is so boring."
He stretched and ambled toward the stairs.
Looking utterly languid, he made his way down.
Thud.
The moment Coleman left the area,
the head hit the floor.
It rolled slowly to the elevator entrance.
Its gaze faced the stairwell Coleman had just descended.
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