Hunter X Hunter: Tombbound Power

After Ronnel left, silence followed for a moment, broken only by the soft murmur of a voice.

"One Nen-enhanced shot can bring down an abandoned building. That level of strength... It's on par with some of the top fighters at the Gathering, right?"

The woman muttered to herself as she tapped away on her laptop.

"Kay Taylor, huh? A lone gunman with no family or friends... Is his pistol imbued with Nen?"

In the dim room, her low voice echoed through the space. Suddenly, she lifted her gaze toward the figures strolling slowly outside the hut.

One walked empty-handed, the other carried a sniper rifle slung over his shoulder—but both wore identical faces.

"Twins?" she whispered, her mind racing. Then, more directly, she asked, "Are you here for work?"

"We came because we heard gunshots," the unarmed one replied. His voice was steady, carrying the weight of experience. His weathered face hinted that he might be the elder of the two.

He paused briefly before adding, "If you can arrange something suitable for us, we might stick around."

Meanwhile, after leaving the Thousand Ears Society's branch, Ronnel boarded an airship and flew straight to his destination. Five days passed without a single call. Now, he stood at the gates of Manor.

Ding-dong~

"I'm Kay Taylor, referred by the Thousand Ears Society," Ronnel said hoarsely into the intercom before anyone inside could ask.

"Identity verified. You may enter."

With a click, the old voice on the other end cut off, and the iron gates began to creak open—just enough for one person to slip through.

Ronnel stepped into the manor, his eyes sweeping the garden. The sight of colorful flowers clashed with the otherwise cold and calculating feel of the place.

He crossed the courtyard without pause, heading toward the mansion at the center. There, an elderly man in a black butler's uniform stood waiting.

"Please follow me," the butler said, bowing slightly with a gesture for Ronnel to proceed.

With a practiced elegance, the old man led Ronnel through the hallways. After some time, they reached a large room, and the butler stepped aside to let him in.

"Yo! A new guy, huh?"

A young man with spiky yellow hair whistled lazily when he saw Ronnel enter, his tone dripping with mockery.

Ronnel ignored him and quickly scanned the room. The layout was simple but elegant—sofas arranged haphazardly, adding to the room's casual feel.

In total, there were seven people in the room, including Ronnel.

The yellow-haired man counted as one. Then there were the twins—one gripping a sniper rifle, the other sitting casually with empty hands.

Three more were middle-aged men dressed in martial arts uniforms, their eyes closed as they practiced. Ronnel noted their well-trained physiques, marking them as experienced fighters.

A young scholar wearing thick black-rimmed glasses sat nearby, absorbed in a book. He had a calm demeano.

Finally, there was a cheerful girl, about eighteen or nineteen years old, kicking her legs restlessly as she glanced around the room with fascination.

Apart from the brash yellow-haired man, no one else said a word. A few glanced up as Ronnel entered, but quickly lost interest.

Ronnel settled onto a sofa, quietly analyzing the group.

"Even without considering Nen, I could take out three or four of them instantly in a straight fight," he calculated.

Thinking of Hisoka's scoring system, he smirked to himself.

"Using me as the baseline, the strongest person here wouldn't score higher than 30 points."

And that was assuming these fighters had hidden trump cards.

It reminded him of the Nostrade Family's bodyguards. Apart from Melody, whose abilities were unique, only Kurapika—the rookie—had any real potential. The others were easy pickings, taken down by Franklin's bullets or reduced to nothing by Shizuku's vacuum cleaner.

Still, caution kept Ronnel sharp. Underestimating someone could get him killed. He refocused, silently assessing the room's occupants once more.

Time dragged on. The yellow-haired man grew visibly impatient, tapping his foot against the floor.

Just then, a door on the second floor creaked open.

A man in his fifties emerged, sporting gold-rimmed glasses and a well-kept, square face. A silver pistol, resembling a Desert Eagle, gleamed at his side.

The butler from earlier followed closely behind him. The room fell silent as the new arrival's presence commanded everyone's attention.

The man smiled, clearly savoring the moment. He spread his arms in a grand gesture, as though addressing a captivated audience.

"Welcome. I see you've all come to apply for the job."

He paused for effect, then continued with a satisfied grin.

"My name is Leiert, and I am your client. But before you can stay, you'll need to pass my assessment—my little... test of skill."

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