In the airship's hold, the rumble of engines and the fading whistle of the wind formed a steady hum.
Hisoka's yellow eyes gleamed in the dim light, his stifled chuckle ringing like a tolling bell. Illumi, ahead of him, was a statue of obsidian, his large black eyes now locked on his younger brother with a blood-chilling intensity.
"Killua," Illumi said, his voice soft as poisoned silk, slicing through the quiet. A frozen smile stretched his lips, devoid of warmth. "Did you have fun these past seven days?" His gaze swept the group. "Time to come home."
Gon moved before thinking. A step forward, his small frame taut like a bow, ready to shield his friend from that crushing presence. "You're not taking him—!"
"Gon!" Killua's voice, sharp and commanding, cut him off. Gon froze, startled by the unfamiliar tone. Killua didn't even glance his way. His blue eyes, usually so expressive, were fixed on his older brother. He lifted his chin slightly. A strange glint—fear, undeniably, but also a newfound resolve—shone there. "Drop it."
Illumi blinked slowly. A flicker of surprise, nearly invisible, crossed his porcelain face.
The expected compliance was absent.
"Oh?" he murmured, his smile widening slightly, growing more sinister. "You planning to defy me, Killua?"
Beside him, Hisoka let out a louder chuckle. His eyes slid to Kurapika, a perverse gleam in them. "Fascinating," he whispered, loud enough for Kurapika to hear clearly. "Looks like someone's been tampering with someone else's toy. Without permission."
The effect was instantaneous.
Illumi's black, vacant stare snapped to Kurapika. The aura radiating from him was no longer just oppressive—it turned tangible, a wave of pure, icy murderous rage crashing through the hold. The air quivered, charged with a killing intent so violent that Gon and Leorio instinctively stepped back, breath hitching. Even Killua felt his muscles tense under the sudden weight.
"You," Illumi growled, his voice stripped of its false sweetness, reduced to a dangerous hiss. His aura sharpened like a lance, zeroing in on Kurapika.
The assassin had pinpointed the source of his brother's "contamination."
A Hunter Association assistant, a stern-faced man in the black-and-yellow uniform, stepped forward, alarmed by the surge of violence. "Candidate! Control yourself immediately! This behavior is unacceptable and—!"
He didn't finish. A tiny, nearly invisible needle shot from Illumi's sleeve. It sliced through the air with a faint whistle and lodged in the assistant's forehead. He froze, absolute shock etched on his face, then crumpled like a rag doll, dead on impact.
Hanzo, watching the scene, scowled deeply. His hand edged closer to his wakizashi's hilt.
At that moment, the hold's door flew open. Isaac Netero and Rippo entered. The President wore his eternal enigmatic smile, while Rippo's face was icy with severity. His eyes swept the scene: the dead assistant, Illumi's aura still radiating like a weapon, the four frozen figures, and Hisoka watching with glee.
"Candidate," Rippo snapped, ignoring the body for now. "Control yourself. Now. Such a flagrant display of murderous intent toward another candidate is a gross violation of exam regulations. You risk immediate disqualification."
Illumi slowly turned his head toward the examiner, his black gaze still burning with cold fury. He opened his mouth, likely to challenge Rippo's authority, when hurried footsteps echoed behind Netero and Rippo.
Two exhausted figures, caked in mud and gasping, stumbled through the doorway, nearly tripping over the threshold. Their watches blinked frantically: 1000 points. They collapsed to their knees, drained but relieved.
The giant timer projected outside, visible through a porthole, had just hit 00:00:00.
Netero eyed the newcomers, then scanned the hold. His eyes quickly counted: Hisoka, Illumi, Hanzo, Gon, Killua, Leorio, Kurapika, and the two late arrivals. Nine. He scratched his snowy beard thoughtfully, a faint, satisfied hum escaping him.
"Hmm," he said, his calm voice cutting through the engine's rumble and the palpable tension. "Nine eligible candidates present at the deadline's end." He glanced at Rippo, then at the group, his smile widening. "Per the Hunter Association's regulations, the final trial is concluded. And since we have fewer than ten eligible candidates…"
He paused for dramatic effect. All eyes were on him, even Illumi's, whose murderous aura had slightly ebbed.
"…the 287th Hunter Exam is over," Netero declared with disarming simplicity. "Congratulations to all nine of you. You are now full-fledged Hunters."
Shock rippled through the group. Gon's mouth fell open, eyes wide with disbelief. "W-what?! We're… we're Hunters? Just like that?"
Leorio stood slack-jawed, swinging from terror to astonishment. "This old guy's completely nuts!"
Hanzo allowed a faint, satisfied smile.
Hisoka chuckled softly, clearly entertained by the twist.
In the stunned silence following the bombshell, Kurapika stepped forward. His eyes locked on Illumi with an intensity matching the assassin's.
"Well," he said. "The exam's over. The rules that restrained you no longer apply." He held Illumi's gaze. "If you want to attack me for what you see as interference… you're free to do so. Now."
Killua felt a shiver race down his spine. Now that he could sense Nen clearly, Illumi's aura was a terrifying blend of density and malice—like being crushed by a mountain of frozen hatred.
Yet seeing Kurapika face it head-on, unflinching, filled him with a strange mix of fascination and dread. 'He's really dangerous…'
Illumi tilted his head slightly.
"Now that the exam is over," Netero continued, his voice still calm but carrying undeniable authority, addressing Illumi directly, "you are indeed free to act, as Hunters." He paused meaningfully, his twinkling eyes flicking from Illumi to Kurapika. "However," he added with a sly smile, "a wise Hunter knows true strength often lies in choosing battles carefully. Especially when the opponent…" His gaze sharpened, seeming to probe Kurapika for a moment, "…might hold costly surprises."
Hisoka let out another chuckle, louder this time. "Wise advice, President," he murmured, his eyes darting from Illumi to Kurapika with growing relish. "I'd love to see how you plan to play with this one, Kurapika."
Illumi kept staring at Kurapika for several agonizing seconds, his murderous aura swirling around him like black fog. Then, slowly, as if each movement took immense effort, his aura retracted, folding back into him until it was nearly imperceptible. The air became breathable again, though still charged with electric tension.
He finally turned his gaze to Killua. "You heard the President, Killua. The exam's over. We're leaving. Now." No more false sweetness—just a cold, unyielding command.
Killua clenched his fists. His eyes met Gon's, filled with worry, then Kurapika's.
Leorio was poised to jump in, Hanzo watched warily, Hisoka savored the drama, and Netero observed them all with amused interest.
He took a deep breath and faced his brother again.
"No, Illumi," he said, his voice steadier than he thought possible. "I'm not going home now."
The silence that fell was heavier than any before.
Illumi didn't smile. He didn't move.
Only his large black eyes, now devoid of any readable emotion, remained fixed on Killua.
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