But even if they didn't want to fight, that didn't mean their enemy was willing to stop. After all, this was the perfect opportunity to completely wipe out the Phantom Troupe.
Germain had sheathed his greatsword, but the way he walked toward them so calmly made it clear—no matter what they did, they couldn't avoid confronting this man.
No matter how much they planned or how strong their will was, they couldn't escape one simple truth—Germain was the one who held the power to decide.
Some things, once spoken out loud, suddenly seem ridiculous, fragile, and easy to break.
The one who would decide whether the war continued… was Germain.
At that moment, no one expected the one to break the tense standoff would be Shizuku, who was crouching on the ground.
She carefully arranged the old priest's corpse, piecing him together as best she could. Then, adjusting her glasses, she looked up and found Machi in the crowd.
"You used to be an undertaker in Meteor City, right? Help me. Prepare the old priest for burial. I want him to be buried like a human."
Machi glanced at Germain before looking at Shizuku. Her lips moved slightly, as if hesitating.
"He wasn't just your benefactor. He was ours too. Even if you hadn't asked, I would have known what to do. We'll take care of all our fallen comrades properly."
Shizuku blinked. "Oh, that's good."
Machi, and even Pakunoda beside her, didn't know how to respond for a moment.
"That's good"? That's all you have to say?
Couldn't she feel the suffocating tension in the air? How could she so casually ask them—her supposed enemies—to do something for her?
Shalnark pressed his hand against the slightly crimson bandages, feeling the dull pain from the wound beneath. After a long moment of contemplation, he was about to speak, but then he heard the noise coming from the direction of the headquarters.
The elderly, weak, women, and children hiding in the underground shelter suddenly poured out for some unknown reason. It was as if they parted like Moses did with the sea, instinctively creating a path.
They gazed at the scattered corpses on the ground, their expressions filled with worry, fear, and confusion. They still didn't understand the situation and didn't know that Gyro and Zazan had already died.
When they saw the figure slowly emerging from the crowd, Shalnark, Machi, and Pakunoda all realized something, and their hearts instinctively tightened.
Kurapika retracted his silver chain. He could clean the blood stains from it by releasing the Conjuration, but he clearly wasn't in the mood for that at the moment.
He clenched the silver chain tightly, letting the blood drip down his fingers.
Upon seeing Shalnark, Machi, and Pakunoda, he realized that his heart had already become numb. But when he saw Chrollo Lucilfer, he understood something clearly.
He was here to complete his mission. As his teacher had said, revenge was important, but it shouldn't be the entirety of his life.
Chrollo sat in a creaky wheelchair, pushed forward by a nervous elderly woman behind him. The night wind howled, lifting the blanket covering him.
The blanket fluttered in the wind, revealing the last shred of dignity Chrollo had left.
He had lost his left hand and his entire right arm, and both legs below the knees were empty. This was why he hadn't participated in the battle.
Chrollo still retained his Nen ability, and after months of training, he could fight like the Heavens Arena trio.
However, it was difficult for him to return to his former strength, especially since losing both hands made using his "Skill Hunter" incredibly hard.
Still, his gaze remained calm, without any trace of self-pity.
Even in this state, Meteor City still needed him. So, several months ago, he handed over the Phantom Troupe to Shalnark and became the new elder of Meteor City.
It turned out to be the right decision. His many years as the leader of the Phantom Troupe allowed him to easily enter the council of elders.
It was also because of his position in the council that he had been able to prevent many futile, self-destructive plans against Gyro's forces.
Creak, creak—
Pakunoda, wiping the blood off the sharp bridge of her nose, gripped the armrests of the wheelchair with both hands and slowly pushed it forward.
"I saw the battle earlier," Chrollo, seated in the wheelchair, with a blanket covering his lower body, spoke softly.
"You did well," he added, a calm smile tugging at his lips.
His forehead tattoo was hidden by the bangs that had fallen, making him look much younger.
"But," Pakunoda lowered her gaze to glance at Chrollo's head before lifting it again, "we didn't decide the outcome, and we weren't the ones who saved Meteor City."
Chrollo nodded slowly. "It's alright... You've done your best, considering everything."
The bandaged Shalnark walked to one side and Machi, whose headband had broken and left her hair disheveled, remained silent.
At this point, Chrollo was unable to turn by himself, so he just tilted his head slightly to look at the anxious Sheila trailing behind them.
"Sheila."
Sheila, who had been absentmindedly rubbing her knuckles, looked up, her face showing several band-aids stuck across it.
These band-aids were from the demon's claws, which had scratched her neck when it had squeezed her throat earlier. She had only just applied them.
Chrollo gave her a calm smile as well.
"I'm not blaming you, nor do I have the right to. In fact, I'm grateful for the choice you made. It was because of you that Meteor City found hope in its time of crisis."
Sheila hesitated for a moment, her words caught in her throat. In the end, she lowered her gaze, choosing silence.
The situation before them was unsolvable, and no words would make any difference.
The atmosphere was heavy. The sound of footsteps echoed, yet it felt monotonous. However, Chrollo seemed quite interested.
Pakunoda pushed the squeaky wheelchair into a simple but spacious room at the end of the corridor in the main base.
Once the door creaked shut behind them, only Chrollo, Shalnark, Machi, Pakunoda, and Germain, Shizuku, Kurapika, and Sheila were left inside.
Outside the base, Chrollo had suggested to Germain that they talk inside. All irrelevant people were sent away, and Germain agreed.
There wasn't much furniture in the room. Sofas of different colors were randomly put together, and on the walls, there were only a clock and a map of Meteor City—almost no decoration at all.
Pakunoda turned the wheelchair around so the person could face everyone directly, and then, together with Machi, she lit more candles.
********
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