Fragments

The church doors stood wide open, but no sound had come from within for a long time.

After watching Chrollo and the others leave without returning, Carl grew increasingly worried.

He regretted it now. He had known there might be an ambush inside the church, yet he had still let everyone in the Phantom Troupe go in and risk their lives!

"I'm going to check on them. Stay here in the manor."

Carl glanced at Sarasa, who was crouched nearby, and spoke through gritted teeth.

Whether the Troupe members were alive or dead, he had to go in and see what had happened!

With that, he willed himself straight out of the manor.

A short while later, a dark figure flashed past the church entrance.

The broken wooden doors creaked in the chilling wind. Carl edged along the mottled stained-glass windows, the stench of rust and decay lingering in his nose.

Five steps, twenty steps.

He reached the confessional.

"Slap... slap..."

A faint slapping sound came from deep inside the church.

Copper warning plaques lay scattered across the floor, and the wooden chairs had been smashed to pieces, as though a wild beast had rampaged through the place.

Carl tightened her grip on the Bomb Pomegranate, pale golden Nen Aura gradually enveloping her body.

His boot soles ground over clotted, dark red bloodstains on the floor, the crisp cracking sound sending echoes through the vaulted ceiling.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

Things were this bad, and you didn't think to use a bomb to scout ahead, Chrollo?

You just had to take everyone in the Troupe inside with you!!!

Step by step, Carl walked deeper in. The thick, salty stench kept flooding his nostrils, winding his nerves to the breaking point.

Another twenty steps, then a corner.

"Slap! Slap!"

The slapping grew clearer.

The salty stench in Carl's nose had grown as strong as it could possibly get.

"Chrollo?"

His hushed call was torn apart by the cold wind pouring through a gap in the stained-glass window.

One step past the corner, Carl abruptly stopped-a severed limb wrapped in a priest's robe was bound with a black strip and hanging straight down beside the window.

"Slap! Slap!"

As a strong wind rushed through the gap, the severed limb lifted gently, then slammed hard against the wall.

"What the..."

Carl brought the Bomb Pomegranate against her trembling fingertips and gritted her teeth, continuing to edge along the mottled stained-glass windows.

After a while, she reached the kitchen.

Dark red blood had congealed on the handle, and when he pushed the door, his palm met a sticky sensation.

Bang!

The wooden kitchen door swung inward.

"Uvogin!"

Catching sight of a familiar spiky head through the gap in the door, Carl was overjoyed.

Thank goodness you're all right, thank goodness!

"What on earth happened? Didn't we agree you'd send someone out to let me know?"

Carl put her weight behind her arm and pushed the wooden door all the way open.

According to their earlier plan, once they had found out what was happening in the church,

Chrollo should have sent someone out to tell Carl right away!

"Old Will... is dead."

Uvogin slowly turned his head, his bloodshot eyes gleaming like a beast's in the darkness.

"What?"

Carl's eyelid twitched. Only then did she notice the horrifying scene in the kitchen.

The oil lamp overhead creaked. In its dim yellow light, dark red bloodstains covered the kitchen walls.

In the middle of the kitchen, Chrollo was struggling to piece the corpse together, thick, dark red bodily fluids dripping down his arms onto the floor.

The rest of the Troupe were all crouched on the ground, searching through the pool of blood for any pieces they could find.

The salty stench in her nose grew overpowering, turning into an outright reek.

"...I'll help."

Half an hour passed.

Looking at the old man's corpse, which they had finally managed to piece back together on the dining table, Carl sighed helplessly.

Old Will was dead, tortured to death.

Though he had never been close to the man, he had known him reasonably well. He had never imagined that after only a month apart, the man would have died just like that.

This really is...

"Carl, could I ask you to bring Teacher Lianke here?"

Standing beside the corpse, Chrollo spoke slowly.

"No problem."

Carl nodded in agreement.

Though everyone had managed to piece Old Will's body roughly back together, they still needed a mortuary seamstress to repair it if they wanted to give him a decent burial.

Holding the old man's cold hand, Chrollo gazed deeply ahead.

"Take Sarasa and go now."

"Now?"

Carl looked surprised.

Although he hadn't been close to Old Will, as a member of the Troupe, leaving at a time like this would be a bit much.

"Bringing Teacher Lianke here will at least ensure everyone's safety."

Chrollo spoke calmly.

They knew nothing about the killer, so as a precaution, he needed a strong fighter to come and back them up.

"Besides, we're going to visit the residents on the street and look for any clues."

"You don't know the North District. There's no point in you staying here."

"Well... all right!"

Carl nodded hesitantly. Her original body's owner had been so reclusive that she really didn't know much about the North District.

In that case, going back to fetch Lianke really was better than staying here!

"Everyone, go back to your foster mothers' homes first and see if you can find any clues... We'll meet at Sarasa's house in the evening."

Chrollo released the corpse's hand, a rough plan forming in his mind.

Grandpa Will was dead, so the church could no longer serve as their regular meeting place!

Who knew whether the killer might come back here!

"What about the body?"

Staring at the wounds covering the corpse, Paku asked with reddened eyes.

"Leave it here!"

Chrollo glanced at everyone and spoke decisively.

Old Will's body was in too many pieces to be moved at all!

Besides, even if they did move it, where could they put it...?

"But..." Paku gritted her teeth, still wanting to say something.

Crash!

A tremendous shattering of glass suddenly rang out, and shards rained down.

Hisoka's patent-leather boots ground over the bloodstains on the windowsill. The dim candlelight cast a dark shade over his clown makeup.

"Don't get worked up!" Carl stepped halfway in front of Uvogin, the hem of her black robe sweeping through the pool of blood on the floor. "He's my senior fellow disciple, Hisoka."

"Pat..."

After lightly brushing the dust off his shoulder, Hisoka slowly straightened up.

"Hehe..."

"Junior Brother, don't you think you've been here a little too long?"

He had only glanced briefly at the people in the kitchen when his nostrils suddenly twitched and his pupils narrowed to vertical slits.

"Need a hand?"

Through his En, he had suddenly realized that not a trace of Nen Aura was leaking from anyone in the room!

In other words, they were all Nen users!

No wonder Carl hadn't come out for so long. She'd been blocked in!

With that, the playing card at his fingertips slowly became coated in pale purple Nen Aura.

At his words, Nobunaga silently drew his katana three inches, wisps of white Nen Aura reflected on the blade. Behind him, Nen Aura surged around the Troupe members, spreading in silent waves that sent the candle flames flickering wildly.

"No, they're all my companions!"

Carl felt somewhat helpless, though she could understand what Hisoka was thinking.

When he had first entered the Mist Forest, he hadn't actually been maintaining Ten, instead allowing his Nen Aura to leak out slowly.

It wasn't that he hadn't wanted to; his crude use of Ten would have drained his stamina too quickly!

That was why Lianke hadn't recognized Carl as a Nen user. The reason was simple: no proper Nen user would ever allow their Nen Aura to leak out unchecked!

Only ordinary people or natural-born Nen users would do that!

The Phantom Troupe was different.

Having been taught by Carl, their Ten was textbook-perfect. Anyone could recognize them as Nen users at a glance!

"Huh?"

Hisoka ran the tip of his tongue along the edge of the playing card, a flicker of confusion passing through his narrow eyes.

Interesting. This is really interesting...

"Come on, Teacher Lianke has a job waiting." Carl's voice suddenly softened. She stepped forward and put an arm around Hisoka's shoulders.

"I'll give you ten Bomb Pomegranates to make up for it when we get back."

As she dragged him outside, Carl whispered in Hisoka's ear.

After spending so long with the pervert, he had managed to get some idea of what he was like.

Hisoka hesitated for only a moment before letting Carl lead him out of the room.

"Deal."