Capital never sleeps.
Even in the Hunter world, filled with paper people, many salarymen faced the same fate of 996 work hours or worse.
As night fell, city lights flickered on, dispelling the darkness. In brightly lit office buildings, salarymen bustled through cubicles, others typed furiously at keyboards, and some meticulously organized documents. They toiled diligently, obedient to their bosses and obsequious to clients, much like blindfolded donkeys endlessly treading in a mill.
Barring any unforeseen circumstances, after their energy was almost entirely drained, the salarymen would drag their weary bodies home under the moonlight, rushing for the last subway or bus, or sharing taxis. A minuscule number chose to stay late, working through the night.
However, this stagnant peace was suddenly shattered by an unexpected event.
A deafening explosion rocked the entire city, followed by encroaching darkness. The lowest levels of the streets still had some illumination from car headlights, but the city-wide blackout triggered a cascade of driver errors, leading to multiple traffic accidents. The sharp wails of car alarms and honking horns merged with cries of pain and curses, drowning out the screams and shouts of the people.
Electricity, an indispensable energy source in modern society, was crucial for defense, transportation, communication, production, and daily life.
A city-wide power outage meant no internet, no water, and severed communication lines. Factories would cease operation, transportation would grind to a halt, and normal life would be disrupted, inevitably leading to widespread chaos.
With their work forcibly halted by an act of God, the salarymen found the elevators stopped, their phones signal-less, and the streets too chaotic. They chose to remain at their workstations, meekly accepting reality and idly waiting for instructions or changes in the situation. This bittersweet, uncertain wait did not last long; they then heard the sound of shattering building glass.
A wind carrying the scent of rust gusted in, followed by countless shards of glass and a large, dark mass. A few individuals shone their phone flashlights onto the unknown object, revealing a pair of blood-soaked, golden eyes radiating killing intent. The sight sent these herbivores into a panic, shoving and shouting as they scrambled towards the exit.
The owner of the golden eyes, Feitan, spat a mouthful of blood onto the ground.
The commotion caused by the herbivores was too noisy. Gripping the grappling hook launcher cylinder, he raised his hand towards them, and a herbivore was pulled towards him by the metal hook.
He then hurled the herbivore through the broken glass opening. The man, over two hundred pounds and lacking any exercise due to prolonged sitting, was tossed with the ease of a baseball.
Things happened too quickly for the man to feel any fear. He had only just dully registered the pain of the metal hook piercing his flesh when, in the next moment, his body was shattered into several pieces on the street below, ending a mundane life that might have otherwise afforded him a chance to rest and enjoy life only after working until age 60.
As the man was still alive and airborne, Feitan followed, leaping through the broken glass opening.
The man's bulky frame temporarily obscured the view from above. In that brief instant, Feitan vanished and reappeared at his opponent's flank.
Humans have no wings. Once they leave the ground, their bodies become airborne with no point of leverage, severely limiting their actions.
But what if there were points of leverage?
Then, actions like ascending, advancing, retreating, and somersaulting in mid-air would be possible.
Similar techniques were widely used in film and television stunt work. The incredible mid-air acrobatics, flips, and fight sequences in movies were achieved by suspending actors with steel wires, a process known as "wiah" suspension.
In reality, wiah suspension was arduous and dangerous, requiring careful operation by professionals and certain physical capabilities from the actors to avoid injury during performance.
The above concepts, however, only applied to ordinary people.
The power of "Nen" was so destructive that its knowledge was strictly controlled. Most ordinary people believed Nen users were simply born with some kind of talent, like "superhumans," unaware that "Nen" was actually a skill anyone could learn.
However, "Nen" was not omnipotent. While it could significantly enhance physical abilities, turning individuals into "superhumans" in the eyes of ordinary people, differences in fundamental physical fitness still existed within the Nen user world. Neglecting the basics would still lead one to become prey for the strong.
Organizations with long-standing knowledge of "Nen," such as the Zoldyck Family and the Hunter Association, placed great importance on foundational training and did not rush to teach "Nen" knowledge.
This was why Killua only began learning "Nen" at age 12, to prevent him from becoming overly reliant on it too early, neglecting his foundation, and hindering his future growth.
In short, this operation, initiated by Morel under the name "spider-
That was obvious. If Morel truly cared about the lives of the NPCs, she wouldn't be who she was now, but a completely new character.
If Morel were a kind and compassionate "player," she should have intervened to prevent or eliminate the misfortunes in the original plot, such as Alluka's lifelong confinement, the Kurta clan's annihilation, or the tragedies in the Chimera Ant arc, and so on, dedicating herself to creating a better new world.
Ha.
How could that be? Morel was struggling to save herself; she couldn't save anyone. She was just an ordinary... useless person. That was all.
Despite her current high vantage point, she could fall back into the mud at any moment.
With that thought, she casually glanced down. The crowds filling the street resembled swarms of ants, their dense, wriggling presence easily triggering scalp-tingling discomfort in those with trypophobia.
Humanity's numbers were truly too great, and their desire for reproduction was terrifyingly strong, she thought.
She retrieved a random explosion bomb gifted by Kalluto from her game inventory (Chapter 143). This type of bomb detonated based on the number of collisions, with the random range set between 1 and 5, designed to create unpredictability... No, in actual combat, it was a mere trifle, entertaining at best.
Kalluto specialized in creating miniature bombs. This quail-egg-sized bomb had the power equivalent to two grenades.
Like pouring water into an ant nest when she was a child, Morel nonchalantly dropped the random explosion bomb into the ant-like crowd, and tossed a few towards Feitan's direction.
Sporadic explosions illuminated the crowd.
Bored, Morel's eyes suddenly lit up. Releasing her grappling hook, she leaped into the crowd and embraced a black-haired, black-eyed woman.
"Mom," she called out.
"..." The woman's face was pale, unable to respond.
As the woman instinctively struggled, Morel instinctively tightened her embrace. The force of her tonnage was incredibly lethal to an ordinary person. The woman's spine and rib cage were snapped by the embrace, her fractured ribs piercing her heart, causing her immediate death.
The surrounding crowd was too chaotic, and stampedes occurred frequently. Many people bumped into Morel and the woman, and the screams were too loud. Morel, annoyed, had to release her embrace, placing one of the woman's hands on her shoulder, shifting the woman's weight onto herself, and then carrying the woman onto the roof of a nearby vehicle, then onto a utility pole.
A professional assassin's movements were light and silent. Morel gracefully stepped on the wire, leaping like a bird along the power line.
She, carrying the woman, casually broke into a residence through a balcony.
She placed the woman on a chair by the dining table, had her sit properly, and then retrieved various dishes from her game inventory, arranging them on the table. Finally, she placed a bowl of rice in front of the woman, along with a pair of wooden chopsticks.
Morel crouched beside the woman, her hands resting on the table.
She tilted her head up, looking at the woman expectantly, "...Mom."
The woman remained motionless, her head perpetually bowed.
"..."
"...Mom."
"..."
Morel thought for a moment and then began slowly retrieving stacks of cash from her game inventory. Each time she placed a stack of cash near the rice bowl, she would look at the woman's face with anticipation and caution.
[Retrieve] [1,000,000 Jenny]
[Retrieve] [1,000,000 Jenny]
[Retrieve] [1,000,000 Jenny]
[Retrieve] [1,000,000 Jenny]
[Retrieve] [1,000,000 Jenny]
[Retrieve] [1,000,000 Jenny]
[Retrieve] [1,000,000 Jenny]
[Retrieve] [1,000,000 Jenny]
[Retrieve] [1,000,000 Jenny]
[Retrieve] [1,000,000 Jenny]
...
[Retrieve] [1,000,000 Jenny]
The cash piled up into a small mountain by the rice bowl, precariously balanced. The woman remained unresponsive.
"...Mom," Morel gathered her courage and placed the next stack of cash directly into the woman's hand.
As soon as she let go, the stack of cash slipped from the woman's hand and landed on the floor with a "thud."
Morel flinched as if startled, immediately retracting her neck.
【"If I die at home, do you know what you should do?"】
【"I... I'll call 110."】
【"..."】
【"I... I'll search online."】
【"Idiot! Useless thing! What will you do after I die..."】
【"Mom..."】
Facing the woman, Morel sat on the floor, hugging her knees and curling into a ball.
She showed no reaction even when Feitan approached her.
Only when...
Only when she saw the reflection of fire in her eyes did she awaken as if from a dream.
Feitan threw a lighter onto the pile of cash. The dry paper was flammable, and the small flame quickly grew into a large tongue of fire, also igniting the table and the woman's hair.
The smell of burning paper, wood, and protein.
Morel sat there blankly.
The smell of scorching.
Morel continued to sit there blankly.
Feitan had discarded his heavily damaged cloak from the game and was now wearing a dark t-shirt he had just found in the wardrobe. With his hands in his pockets, he stood behind Morel, watching the growing fire with her.
As the flames reached the ceiling, Feitan grabbed Morel by the back of her collar and pulled her out of the fire's reach.
Feitan was still observing her, not in a hurry to act, so her bangs were singed, leaving a notch like a dog's bite.
"Morel," Feitan's fingers threaded through her hair, his palm pressing against her cheek, bringing her head closer to his. "See, Morel, this is what you wanted to see – you didn't stop me from burning all this."
These words seemed to remind Morel. She slightly parted her lips and reached out towards the large mass of flames, "..."
"What do you want to save?" Feitan's next words were laced with malice. "You can only choose one."
Morel cupped her neck with one hand. Normally, she used this gesture to indicate she had [equipped] a vocal device.
"My money," she said.
After a moment of surprise, Feitan began to laugh, his trembling breath exhaling near Morel's ear, causing her to turn her head slightly uncomfortably and frown at Feitan.
"My money," she repeated.
The flames had already reached the hem of her clothes, yet she was oblivious, her expression stubborn as she reached out to Feitan for money. Feitan raised an eyebrow, picked her up horizontally, and said, "If you don't move around, I'll pay you back. Double."
Before the flames consumed them, Feitan, carrying her, jumped out from the balcony.
Given the height difference between Feitan (155cm) and Morel (165cm), Morel had a rare opportunity to look up at Feitan's delicate, pointed chin. However, she had no mind to observe such details, merely gripping Feitan's shirt tightly as he leaped off the balcony.
This action was by no means out of fear. Feitan seemed to understand her intention and asked her with great confidence, "How much?"
Stepping onto the railing, Feitan leaped onto a rooftop.
"...500 million," Morel replied.
"..."
"In cash," Morel added.
"..."
It wasn't a matter of cash or not. Before throwing the lighter, Feitan glanced at the pile of money, which by no means looked like 500 million Jenny.
*I suspect you are extorting Feitan's money, but I have no evidence because I burned it all with my own hands.*
According to Feitan's promise of double compensation, "That makes it 1 billion."
"..."
[Achievement Unlocked: Creating Something from Nothing]
Feitan didn't know that what Morel said was already the doubled amount.
Mmm... money, the more the better.
Does Feitan have money?
Most of the time, Feitan's pockets were so clean he didn't even have a single Jenny coin.
But he was also exceptionally rich, because all his money was in other people's pockets – he was a bandit.
The only question was whether Feitan would keep his promise.
Yes, Morel was crazy, but not foolish. "Debt default" was a common occurrence in the "real world," and the larger the amount, the more likely such arrears were.
In the city that had lost its order, breaking into a bank vault was as easy as going downstairs to throw out the trash. No, for Feitan, it was usually as easy as going downstairs to throw out the trash even in normal times, so it was quite boring; once was enough, and he stopped playing.
Unlike usual, they also encountered passersby trying to fish in troubled waters during the chaos, whom they dealt with accordingly.
Morel did not [pick up] the consecutively numbered new bills, maintaining a cautious attitude. Feitan found it somewhat amusing and asked her why, if she liked cash, she didn't go to the source directly. She said she earned her wealth through labor and did not disrupt the normal economic ecosystem.
A bank's daily cash reserve was limited. Morel only managed to [pick up] over 80 million Jenny. "..."
"Consider this a deposit," Feitan said, having watched from the side of the vault door the whole time. "As you can see, it's impossible to gather too much cash in a short period. If you're willing to accept a transfer, I can transfer it to you later."
Later? Transfer? This implied the other party likely possessed a bank account with at least 1 billion.
"..." Morel was very surprised.
Morel walked forward and grabbed Feitan's collar, seemingly worried that Feitan was employing a delaying tactic and planned to run away without honoring the agreement later.
Such a low-level misunderstanding was too dismissive of him!
"But you're just a human soldier," Morel said with genuine concern.
"???"
"..." x2
"Do you know my name, Morel?"
"...Levi Ackerman."
"..." x2
"I know someone who can produce 1 billion," Feitan said, laughing instead of getting angry. "I'll beat him up, and then I'll have the money."
Who would pay the money was no longer important; the key was to beat up Shalnark first.
Shalnark: ???