Monroe seethed. His bruised, flushed face betrayed the storm beneath his skin. He opened his mouth to shout—but stopped.
Even he wasn't reckless enough to defy all nine of them at once.
"So what now?" he growled, glaring at Campbell and Spencer. "What's your plan? You forbid me from using the Yin Beasts, and I can't invoke the Ten Elders' name?"
He turned his gaze to the rest, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "So that's it? You're just going to smothen this, pretend it never happened?"
"Or am I no longer one of you?"
The nine Elders didn't flinch. They had already conferred before Monroe joined. They knew pushing him too far could make an enemy out of a powerful ally. They wanted to check his rage—not escalate it.
A wiry Elder spoke up. "We're not denying your right to vengeance. But the Yin Beasts are communal property. You want payback? Fine. But do it on your own dime."
"If you agree to compensate us and supply replacements for the lost Yin Beasts, then we'll issue a bounty in the name of all Ten Elders. We'll even contact Meteor Street and hire professionals to take out Vega Pendleton."
"But you'll fund the whole operation."
Monroe gritted his teeth. He wanted more. He wanted the full might of the Elders to avenge his son—but he wasn't getting it.
Still, he saw the bigger picture.
If he acted alone, few would care. But a bounty from the Ten Elders? That would send shockwaves. Every shadow organization across six continents would mobilize. It would be open season on the Pengellet family.
After a long pause, Monroe nodded.
Deals were made. Favors exchanged. The other Elders left, each more satisfied than the last.
Monroe stood alone in the bunker, glaring at the blank monitor.
"Campbell. Spencer. The moment you slip—I'll be there."
He slammed his fist onto the table, then picked up a secure line.
"You've reached the Zoldyck family. State your business."
Monroe replied coldly, "Two billion. Vega Pendleton. I want him dead."
"…Understood. Silva Zoldyck has accepted the contract. Please await results."
Meanwhile, at Meteor Street
In the inner sanctum of Meteor Street—far removed from the grime and chaos of its outskirts—a council gathered.
Here, the Elder Council ruled from a sleek chamber lined with weapons, monitors, and long shadows. They had just received a request from the Ten Elders: a high-paying contract to eliminate Vega Pendleton and destroy the Pengellet family.
To Meteor Street, it wasn't business. It was tradition.
Crime syndicates had long relied on them for dirty work. In exchange, Meteor Street's assassins, mercenaries, and killers were funded, trained, and unleashed.
Now, the Council debated how best to deploy the contract—and how to split the profit.
"He's dangerous," muttered a hawk-nosed elder. "Killed two Yin Beasts. Average Nen users won't cut it."
"And we're not just talking about killing him," added another. "The whole family must go. This isn't a solo job."
The Elder Chief—a bald man in a heavy black robe—nodded slowly. "It'll require a team. Who do you suggest?"
Several names were tossed out and shot down—too weak, too few, too unstable.
Then, one elder spoke up. "What about Chrollo's Phantom Troupe?"
A silence settled over the room.
"They're infamous," he continued. "There are about ten of them. Efficient, brutal, experienced in large-scale eradication. They're already labeled Class-A criminals—it wouldn't look strange if they destroyed a crime family in Nacro City."
Nods of agreement followed.
The Chief Elder spoke. "Then it's settled. The Phantom Troupe will take this contract."
He turned to one of his advisors. "Elder Bilro, you'll handle negotiations. As long as their price isn't absurd—agree to their terms."