As night fell, Vega left the Sky Arena, watching with satisfaction as Kastro practiced Ten, shrouding himself in a tightly controlled aura. For a moment, the energy clung to him like a weightless garment.
After a few final words of advice, Vega turned and departed.There was still a certain someone waiting to be hunted—Murphy, of the Hegel family.
Vega raced through the city like a shadow, darting over rooftops and empty streets, until the towering Teiro International Hotel loomed before him. It had taken only ten minutes.
He straightened his clothes, put on a polite smile, and stepped inside the hotel lobby.
Thanks to intel previously collected form red snake, Vega already knew where Murphy was staying: the presidential suite. The timing was almost too perfect. It seemed fate had delivered Murphy right into his hands.
He approached the private elevator leading to the top floor, but a white-gloved attendant in a sharp black suit stopped him politely."Good evening, sir. This elevator is reserved for guests in the presidential suites. May I ask which room you're trying to reach?"
Vega smiled. "I'm here to see someone. Goes by the name Murphy."
The butler's expression tightened.
Vega leaned in, pressing a single finger to the man's chest. "I've already bought him a one-way ticket to hell. I'm just here to make sure he catches the train."
The butler broke into a cold sweat. His instincts screamed at him to flee, but his body refused to move. Something—Nen, no doubt—was pinning him in place, locking his heart in a vice.
"Don't move," Vega said softly, still smiling. "Or this finger goes straight through your chest."
"Y-Yes, sir…" the man stammered. He took out a red elevator keycard and tapped it against the sensor, lighting up the button to the top floor.
As he tried to press it, his trembling hand slipped—and his thumb brushed a hidden alarm button.
Click.
Vega sighed, shaking his head. "I told you not to do anything stupid."
Before the man could beg for his life, a sharp surge of Nen blasted from Vega's fingertip and pierced the butler's heart. The man slumped to the ground.
Alarms began to flash inside the elevator, warning lights spinning red.
"Tch. Should've just taken the stairs," Vega muttered. "Now Murphy definitely knows I'm here."
He reached into his coat and drew phantom severance.
"Wake up," he whispered. "Let's go hunting."
Meanwhile, in the Presidential Suite
The savory aroma of gourmet dishes drifted from the kitchen of the luxurious top-floor suite. Murphy, a stout man with a rotund belly and slicked-back hair, lounged at the head of the dining table, swirling a glass of red wine.
Across from him sat Sandro—a hulking man in his forties, face like carved granite, hands thick as mallets.
"To your health, Mr. Sandro," Murphy toasted. "Thanks to your support, my path to replacing the Ten Elders is nearly complete. Money, power, women—you'll have it all."
Sandro chuckled, his voice deep and brimming with confidence. "As long as the pay is good, I'll make sure nothing stands in your way. If anyone does, I'll remove them."
"A true professional." Murphy grinned wide.
Just then, a bodyguard in a black suit rushed into the room, phone in hand."Sir, there's been a breach. A hostile has entered the hotel—possibly an assassin. He's already taken out the elevator operator and is ascending."
Murphy's wine glass paused in mid-air. His brow creased.
"Do we evacuate, sir?" the guard asked cautiously. "There's a secure escape passage."
"What's hotel security doing?" Murphy asked, setting the glass down.
"They've cut power to the elevator and locked it mid-flo—"
"And?"
"The target wasn't found in the elevator. He's vanished from the cameras."
Murphy's fingers tapped the table. "No. We don't run. That's what he wants. There could be traps waiting outside."
He turned to Sandro, who had yet to react beyond a slight smirk.
"With a man like Mr. Sandro here, what assassin could possibly be a threat?"
Sandro rose from his chair, flexing his shoulders and wiping his mouth with a napkin.
"Don't worry, boss," he said with a confident laugh. "Consider this a pre-dinner warm-up."
The next moment—
Boom!
A loud crash echoed through the hallway. The reinforced suite door slammed open.
Vega stepped in, clad in black armor, his presence radiating like a storm. In his right hand gleamed phantom severance, the blade humming with ominous Nen.
Sandro didn't hesitate. Aura exploded from his body, blasting through the room like a shockwave.
"impact Fist!"
His special move gathered power into a single massive punch, which he hurled at Vega.
But Vega was already moving.
The crimson-hilted sword swept forward—one clean, fluid motion.
Slice.
Sandro's fist stopped mid-air. His eyes went wide with shock.
A second later, his upper torso slid off the rest of his body, along with a mess of organs, and thudded to the floor.