Black Markings

The freight corridor on the Black Whale's third deck stretched long and deep.

The cold alloy floor ran into the gloom. Six sets of footsteps fell out of sync, their soft echoes mingling with the faint hum of pipes in the enclosed space.

Overhead lamps cast a bluish-white light. It spread evenly across the floor, making the corridor feel still and austere.

Kurapika led the way.

His fingertips brushed the chain ring at his cuff. He moved lightly, his gaze fixed on the security door ahead.

His mind was on the Royal Vault. Not the slightest movement around him escaped his notice.

Gon and Killua followed two steps behind.

Fresh curiosity shone in Gon's eyes. His steps were brisk, though explosive power lay dormant in his body.

Killua kept his hands in his pockets and his steps featherlight. His gaze swept the corners, pipes, and seams in the floor again and again. He stayed on guard throughout.

Leorio carried the Medical Kit.

A thin sheen of sweat clung to his temples. He muttered about the ship's maze of passageways, bringing a touch of everyday life to the tense atmosphere.

Genos walked toward the rear of the group.

His blue mechanical eyes flickered constantly. His full-range scan ran at high speed, feeding a torrent of data into his terminal. His posture remained stiff and precise.

Saitama brought up the rear at an easy stroll.

His hands were tucked in his pockets, his whole manner loose and casual. He seemed oblivious to the tension ahead, thinking only of the royal dairy products rumored to be aboard.

"What's hidden on the third deck?" Gon asked quietly.

"The Royal Vault is at its center," Kurapika said without turning. "Pariston's private soldiers have taken over the entire area."

"All three thousand of them?" Leorio asked