Hunter X Hunter: Tombbound Power

The Phantom Troupe had thirteen members in total, with twelve gathered here now—only one missing...

"Hahaha! I'm here, everyone! Got a little sidetracked, but I'm not late, am I?"

That rough, booming voice echoed from outside the crumbling building. Moments later, a massive figure rushed through the entrance, halting abruptly in the doorway.

"23:59:42," Shalnark announced with a glance at his phone. "Still technically the 31st. As expected from the most punctual member of the Troupe."

Standing at the entrance, Uvogin—his towering frame rippling with muscle and silver hair shining under the dim light—grinned widely.

"Well, as long as I'm not late!"

He strode in, scanning the room until his gaze landed on Ronnel.

"You must be the new recruit. Heard you're strong." Uvogin's grin widened with excitement. "I'm Uvogin, the strongest one here!"

Without hesitation, he extended his hand—a gesture more like a challenge than a greeting.

Another handshake?

Machi, Franklin, and Feitan exchanged glances, then turned toward Nobunaga, who was whistling casually on the sidelines.

"My name is Ronnel."

With a composed expression, Ronnel met Uvogin's hand with his own, their palms locking together in a firm grip.

"Crack!"

The sound of bones grinding was subtle but unmistakable. Both men instantly applied pressure, neither backing down. The other members of the Troupe watched silently, eager to witness the strength of the newcomer who had already bested Feitan.

Somewhere amidst the tension, the faint sound of teeth grinding could be heard.

Nobunaga plucked one of his mustache hairs absentmindedly, his expression curious. Who was clenching their teeth—Ronnel or Uvogin?

Then, just as quickly as it began, Uvogin released Ronnel's hand. He grinned, his expression radiating satisfaction. Meanwhile, Ronnel's calm demeanor remained unchanged, though the slight curve of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

Well, that was telling.

"Ronnel, your strength... it's stronger than mine!" Uvogin declared, not with frustration, but with pure exhilaration.

"Finally! Someone in the Troupe I can actually spar with. Nobody else wants to fight me or even arm wrestle anymore." Uvogin clenched his fists eagerly. "You'll spar with me again, right?"

"Anytime," Ronnel replied with a small smile, subtly flexing his hand behind his back. Though he'd managed to suppress Uvogin, the handshake had left his hand throbbing slightly. This brute really doesn't hold back, he thought.

Uvogin's eyes lit up. "Great! Hahaha!"

The rest of the Troupe members had varied reactions to the display.

"Not just strong—this guy is even more impressive than Uvogin," someone thought in surprise, while Nobunaga gave an almost knowing nod, as if to say, I saw this coming.

Having faced Ronnel before, Nobunaga wasn't shocked. The same went for Feitan, who had already experienced Ronnel's overwhelming power firsthand.

Phinks, too, quietly gauged Ronnel's strength during his match with Feitan and concluded that Ronnel surpassed him—and likely even Uvogin. Though Phinks wasn't far behind Uvogin in raw strength, he accepted that Ronnel's power placed him firmly at the top.

Shalnark had a similar conclusion, and even Hisoka—who'd witnessed Ronnel use deadly techniques during a previous encounter—found himself intrigued, clicking his tongue thoughtfully.

The quiet exchange had changed something within the Troupe. Everyone knew that the internal ranking of strength was about to shift. The newcomer wasn't just here to fill a seat—he was already shaking the established hierarchy.

As Uvogin's laughter echoed through the building, Chrollo, who had remained silent throughout the exchange, slowly rose to his feet.

The room fell quiet. Uvogin stopped laughing, and all eyes turned toward their leader as he ascended to a raised platform.

Kortopi and Pakunoda stayed below, settling on a nearby stone platform, while the others instinctively stood, their postures shifting.

When Chrollo speaks, everyone listens. That's just how it works—no matter what world you're in.

By now, the clock had ticked past midnight. It was officially August 31st.

Chrollo stood at the highest point, holding a worn copy of his "Bible" in hand. His voice, calm and deliberate, echoed through the silent space.

"Now that everyone is here, let's discuss our next move."

He cast a glance over the group, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Tomorrow's auction..."

Chrollo's eyes gleamed with purpose. "The treasures—everything valuable—they're ours for the taking."

A ripple of excitement ran through the Troupe.

Uvogin's grin widened, his eyes bloodshot with anticipation.

"And if anyone gets in the way?" he asked eagerly, his voice trembling with excitement.

Chrollo's response was cold and simple.

"I give the order now... Kill them all."

Uvogin's laughter erupted instantly—wild, unhinged, and full of murderous glee.

"Ahahahaha! Ahahahaha!"

His voice pierced the night, echoing through the dilapidated building. For someone like Uvogin—who lived for battle and thrived in chaos—there was no greater joy than the prospect of an all-out fight.

The other Troupe members exchanged glances, some like Phinks wearing bloodthirsty grins of their own.

When Uvogin's laughter finally subsided, Chrollo gave a small nod and continued.

"Let's get to the action plan."

"Leader!" Uvogin shot his hand up before Chrollo could even begin assigning roles.

"Battle squad—Uvogin!"

Chrollo smirked. "As expected."

"Hell yeah!" Uvogin clenched his fists, his excitement palpable. This was exactly what he wanted. A fight worth remembering.

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