The darkness surrounding the Kurta village was all encapsulating on the night of the slaughter. Countless corpses littered the ground at the feet of the phantom troupe. It was the group's first "job" of such a size. Though in their eyes, it wasn't much different from any other job. When the boss has his eyes on something he wants, the phantom troupe takes it.

Only after each Kurta present was dead did the ear-piercing screams of the dying finally stop. Though for two of them, it seemed that death was not the end

Norita desperately looked around her now pitch black surroundings. The only things she could even see were areas of white mist shaped like people. She had no way of knowing where she was and who was with her, and was still trapped in the pain of her death.

In spite of this, the small child didn't realize that she was dead. That just wasn't the sort of thing her six year old mind could comprehend. Surely this is all a dream, she thought. I'll wake up and everything will be the same as always. Big brother will be there to play with while mom makes breakfast.

All Norita was able to hear were faint murmurs from an indiscernible distance as she shivered in fear. "Momma… Papa… big brother… Where did everyone go?" She spoke out in panic.

Her brother Pairo called out in response, his voice much more clear than the others she heard. "Norita, are you alright?" He asked as he spotted the spirit of a little girl. The ghostly visage had blood weeping like tears from the endless black holes where her eyes should be. She was soaked liberally with blood from head to toe coming from deep cuts all over her body.

Norita too was able to see her brother. He looked much the same as she did, his eyes missing and his body soaked in blood. On occasion his head would flicker and disappear as blood appeared from the stump, only to reappear seconds later.

Unlike his sister, Pairo had been paying attention to what the strange voices said as best he could. He had no idea who they were but he did catch some of what they said.

From what he could tell there were thirteen people talking. One of the voices, a male with a smooth but cold voice that could make a polar bear freeze, spoke of something too gruesome to be real. It was like something out of a nightmare.

The man spoke up with a strong and commanding voice, as if he was the leader of these people. "These eyes… really are beautiful. Preserved scarlet for eternity. Forever lasting treasure. These people gained immortality in a way. Thanks to such awe inspiring beauty they won't ever be forgotten."

The eyes, Pairo realized, They took our eyes. That's why the world has gone black. Why though? The man said that they were pretty, but that's hardly a motive to attack a six year old. These people weren't human, they were monsters. His thoughts ran on and on. I was running to my sister when as quick as lightning somebody flew by and with his hand… This was when Pairo realized that he was already dead and most likely, his sister was dead as well.

Shivers would have gone down his spine were he still alive as the group continued to brag about their bloody conquest and disgusting acquisitions. Two of the psychos were even bickering about who spilled the most blood as if mass murder was merely a game to them, Pairo realized as he listened.

One of the voices spoke up to counter the other in their argument."You cannot compete with me. I took a child's head. He was unlucky. How many children have you killed?" It said in a somewhat broken voice.

The opposing voice made its rebuttal without missing a beat. "That's quick and painless, Feitan. That's not cruel at all. Especially when you have been practicing your torture skills. I on the other hand sent an old hag flying to space and back within one punch."

Pairo was stunned by the realization that he just heard his own killer discussing how he was murdered. How could anyone be so cruel? That monster should be dead, not him. His sister certainly should have never died. It was his fault she died. She would be alive if he could have simply reached her then.

At that moment he knew that her blood was on his hands. Had he been quicker, she would have survived. From a distance he could sense her presence as her bell-like voice rang out. "Big brother…" called the little girl in a voice drenched in despair and agony.

Pairo called out in response, his voice much more clear than the others she heard. "Norita, are you alright?" He asked as he spotted the spirit of a little girl. The ghostly visage had blood weeping like tears from the endless black holes where her eyes should be. She was soaked liberally with blood from head to toe coming from deep cuts all over her body. There was no way she could be 'alright'.

Pairo spoke up in anger upon seeing the damage done to his little sister. Her death… could not have been quick. She would have slowly bled out. Had she gotten to a medic of the outside world, she probably would have survived the whole ordeal. She could have been saved. Those thieves had already taken their gruesome prize, they didn't need to let her die. They could have gotten her help. "Those monsters…" Pairo started, "what did they do to you, Norita?! We can't let them get away with just killing us like that!" He said in an anger soaked voice.

Norita took a small step back, shock and confusion written all over her face. "What are you saying, big brother?! We aren't dead because we are here. This is all just a bad dream, right?!" She blurted out. To say that she was terrified would be an understatement.

Pairo was struck by the shocking truth. Norita didn't know she was dead. At that moment, Pairo had no idea how to respond. It was wrong to lie, but Pairo knew that explaining the truth would crush the last piece of hope that Norita had left. For what felt like the first time in his life (and unlife) he was lost for words, so he simply said nothing at all as the two spirits wallowed in despair.

-two weeks later-

It was a bright and cheerful morning at a discount inn about a three days journey by foot from the Kurta village. The hotel patrons were all enjoying a complimentary breakfast to start their days. The lobby television was broadcasting the news, but nobody was really paying attention to that. They were too occupied with talking amongst themselves to care. Most of them probably didn't even notice.

The news continued to run in spite of the lack of audience. It was mostly mundane topics like the weather, but in an instant the carefree nature of the lobby shattered like a window in a tornado as the news reporter began a new story. The lady on the news didn't break her polite demeanor even as she spoke of the tragedy. "Police last night were called when hikers in the forests of the Lushka Provence discovered over one hundred corpses in what looked like a remote clan village. The eyes of the-"

Before the reporter could even finish, all eyes in the lobby were turned to look at what appeared to be a panicked and desperate young boy with eyes as red as blood, beautiful and haunting in equal measure. The boy was too shocked to even speak as his hand covered his mouth and his eyes widened in horror as the news reporter confirmed his worst fears. The murdered clan was the Kurta Clan and this boy was the only survivor.

Just as the others in the lobby were about to confront the boy about his peculiar eyes, he dashed out of the lobby with surprising speed and intense desperation. The amount of horror and grief on his face was enough to last most people a lifetime, yet for this boy it was only the beginning of the nightmarish reality.

Kurapika was supposed to return home to cure his best friend, and now he was returning home to bury him and everyone else he ever cared about. Time would never reverse and it would never stop. From here on out, despair and vengeance would reign supreme.