Chương 39: Departure

After the laughter settled, Aren looked at the base with complicated feelings. However casually he spoke, this had been his home since arriving in the world. It witnessed his confusion and helplessness after he woke in this world. It witnessed the confidence he built afterward. It also witnessed his transformation from an ordinary person into someone strong, both in power and mindset.

"Burn it," Aren said. The decision came after a moment of thought. It was not selfishness that kept him from leaving the base behind for some lucky resident of Meteor City. The place was too valuable. For someone without enough power, possessing it would become a crime in the eyes of everyone nearby. If Aren left the base intact, people would fight for it. Blood would spill over rooms, furniture, and supplies he could recreate at any time. He was not motivated by saintly kindness.

Leaving the base brought him no benefit. Once Aren decided, the others did not object. Everything there belonged to him. He created several barrels of gasoline. The Troupe spread the fuel through the rooms. Finally, a silver Zippo lighter appeared in Aren's hand. He flipped the lid with practiced fingers. For a period in his old life, he had smoked. After playing with the lighter for a moment, he struck the wheel and raised a small flame.

"Let's go." Aren turned away and tossed the Zippo over his shoulder. The lighter traced a clean arc through the air and landed in gasoline near the entrance. Fire spread across the building instantly. The flames illuminated the backs of the Phantom Troupe as they walked away. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. Franklin looked back once.

"It feels like a waste."

"Don't be stupid," Feitan said.

"If we leave it standing, many people will die beneath that roof." Franklin paused. Then he understood.

"I see. The deputy leader is unexpectedly gentle." The eight members spent the afternoon crossing the endless garbage plains and reached Meteor City's outer district before nightfall. The outer territory differed from the interior. This was where nearby towns delivered their garbage. Roads connected the dumping sites so trucks could pass through. Aren saw the occasional vehicle and sighed with relief.

"Finally. A road." An eight-seat minibus appeared beside him. He had wanted to create one earlier, but garbage plains offered nowhere to drive. Walking did not tire his body. It tired his mind. If sitting was possible, there was no reason to walk.

"Come on. Get in." Aren took the driver's seat. He would have preferred someone else to drive, but the others had spent their lives inside Meteor City. Expecting them to know how was unreasonable. Everyone climbed aboard. Chrollo settled comfortably into a seat.

"Aren, inviting you into the Troupe was absolutely the best decision I ever made." No matter how often he saw object creation, Chrollo found it difficult to accept. Freely creating matter felt like an intrusion into a god's authority.

"Stop saying that," Aren complained.

"Every time you say it, I regret accepting more. I expected to relax after joining. Instead, I have more work." Chrollo laughed.

"You're the deputy leader. Should you really say that?" Spending time around Aren had made thirteen-year-old Chrollo much less reserved.

"I never should have agreed to the position." Aren let the matter go. They were finally leaving Meteor City. He was in a good mood. The others laughed at the rare sight of Aren suffering from his own decision. A smile tugged at his mouth as he listened. Since Aren arrived in this world, the people around him had stopped being figures on a page. They were alive. During his time with the Phantom Troupe, he realized its members were not born as evil killing machines. The oldest was not yet twenty. Machi was eleven.

Growing up in Meteor City made them cold toward outsiders, but they did not kill purely for pleasure. Even Feitan usually attacked only when there was a reason. He had little interest in strangers who had nothing to do with him.

'So why would the Phantom Troupe massacre the Kurta Clan?'

'Was it truly because Chrollo found the Scarlet Eyes beautiful?'

'Did he grow bored within a week and sell them?' After meeting Chrollo, Aren found that difficult to believe. The reasoning did not fit the Troupe or Chrollo's personality. If Chrollo wanted Scarlet Eyes, he could steal an existing collection as he later did in Yorknew. There was no meaningful difference between owning one pair and hundreds. Selling them all within a week raised another question. Flooding the market with so many Scarlet Eyes should have reduced their value sharply.

Yet in the future Aren remembered, Scarlet Eyes remained among the Seven Most Beautiful Colors and showed no obvious collapse in price. There was also the Kurta Clan's combat strength. When Kurapika's eyes turned scarlet, his Nen category changed to Specialist. Uvogin remembered the clan as troublesome opponents. From any practical angle, attacking them did not sound profitable. Zeno Zoldyck would have called it a bad bargain. Robbing a rich man or the mafia would have been easier.

Chrollo was intelligent enough to understand that.

'Why did he do it?'

'Was there a reason he had no choice but to act?' Aren's thoughts wandered as the minibus continued down the road. He had nothing else to do while driving. The sign ahead answered where the road led. Gambi Town.