Chapter LII
The maroon suit could only be the Danchou's choice. It flatters him to think that Chrollo Lucilfer, a connoisseur of many fine things in the face of the world, has chosen this specific suit for this specific mission that is not really considered to be Phantom Troupe business, specifically.
In the corner of the room, Uvogin is glaring at him, arms crossed, legs far apart. He reminds Hisoka of an angry bear lurking in the dimness of a den, with how Uvogin sits in the darkened corner, his hazel eyes glinting in the shadows.
"I feel so honored," Hisoka purrs as he studies his appearance in the mirror: a luxurious maroon suit with soft sleeves, a white button-down shirt, with leather brown shoes. For the special occasion, he actually trimmed his hair to make himself appear neater. And he doesn't have his usual make-up on, going barefaced in this party.
"You're not even considered in this mission," Uvogin grouches. "Just so happens Val likes you more than she should."
"Oh?" Hisoka raises a sleek eyebrow at Uvogin's reflection in the mirror. He flutters his eyelashes, coquettish. "It still feels an honor to be liked by her."
"Yeah, right." Scoffing, Uvogin stands from his chair and aims for the door. One hand around the knob, he pauses and scowls over his shoulder. "Your mission is to keep Valtiel safe, that's all. You're not to touch her anywhere—or I'll snap your neck."
"My, my," Hisoka hums, opening his arms in a submissive gesture. "I thought Troupe members are not supposed to fight with each other."
Uvogin growls and walks off with a quiet, "You'll never be one of us."
Hisoka smiles as he follows him out. And how right you are.
At the end of the hallway, they find Chrollo fussing over Valtiel's gown. Hisoka lets his eyes roam on Chrollo first, dressed so formally in a black suit as if he's the escort for tonight. The Troupe leader looks utterly delicious, and Hisoka doesn't hide the way he licks his lips when Chrollo turns to him, his own dark eyes betraying none of his inner turmoil.
And of course, the lady, how could anyone forget? Valtiel wears a strapless tight gown, hugging her body and accentuating the sensual curve of her waist and hips. Expect Danchou to exploit Valtiel's appearance—anytime, anywhere. She wears fur sleeves to ward off the evening's chill, although her neck, shoulders, and even the top of her chest are exposed.
She finds him staring and nods to his maroon suit. "You look rather average," she greets.
Hisoka lets a childish whine stick in his voice. "I don't look good enough for you, Val?"
She laughs at that, Chrollo perking up like a wildcat at the sound.
I don't like this, the Danchou tells himself.
He watches from the sidelines how these two interact. He knows Valtiel is fond of the magician, but it somehow irritates him to see them conversing like two normal friends—Hisoka insisting that Valtiel touch one of the sleeves to feel how soft it is. He doesn't like how he would be watching from the shadows for the entire night.
Beside him, Uvogin is bristling with unconcealed annoyance.
"Val," Chrollo calls out, earning her attention. "And Hisoka." The magician bats his eyelashes at him. He tucks his hands in his pockets. "Remember what you're here for, both of you. The party should last only until midnight. Make sure everything is finished by then, Val."
"Of course, Danchou," she answers sweetly, already leaning against Hisoka's arm.
"And your job is to simply keep an eye on her." Chrollo narrows his eyes at the red-haired Spider.
"Of course, Danchou," Hisoka mimics Valtiel's sweet tone. Still clinging onto his arm, the young woman laughs again and the magician snickers alongside her.
Chrollo really wants to sigh, loud enough to let them know that this is not another treasure hunting game. This is not a walk-in-the-park kind of mission. They are dealing with the Mafia Community, the Ten Mafia Dons to make it worse, and these two are nudging at each other like two mischievous children in the playground.
Valtiel follows where Hisoka leads her towards the hotel lobby. She runs her fingers over his sleeve—he really insists that they are soft—and tries to distract herself from the inevitable meeting with the Dons. She is glad to be going with Hisoka. The magician is far too cheerful that his antics would most likely distract her from her nerves.
She looks over her shoulder where Chrollo is fuming with Uvogin. She sighs and nips at her bottom lip. She would never hear the end of this for sure.
She disentagles herself from the magician and walks back to Danchou. At once, his dark face clears, flashing her a tender smile.
"Will you wait for us to finish?" she whispers in his ear.
"I promise." He kisses the back of her hand. "I shall be nearby for assistance."
"No killing anyone, alright?" she prompts, index finger pointing in his face.
"As long as Lord Viper keeps his end of the bargain."
"Hm." She nods, his hand rubbing the small of her back, the heat of his palm seeping through the white silk fabric. Behind him, Uvogin makes a face at her. She sticks her tongue out in return.
"Come. We cannot be late."
Outside, they have a sleek black car attended by a hotel employee. Hisoka is already waiting by the back seat, poised and charming with his sickeningly pleasant smile, like a devil luring his prey in. Valtiel, in her white gown, is like light sucked into a vast, dark void when she slips into the car with him. Chrollo presses his lips into a thin line when the car revs and drives off.
Uvogin yawns, scratching the back of his head. "Off to our positions now, Danchou?"
Eyes still on the retreating car, Chrollo waits until it is out of sight. "Yes, please," he says.
Valtiel shudders in her seat. She knows when Chrollo is in a bad mood even from miles away.
Beside her, Hisoka shifts, crossing his legs and stretching an arm over her shoulders. Not quite touching, but almost. She moves away from the window and raises an eyebrow at the change in position. He just smirks at her.
"You're cold," he says, deliberately misunderstanding her.
"You could turn off the aura at least." She wrinkles her nose. "We're not here for a fight."
"How can I protect you if I'm not ready for a fight, dearest Val?" he croons, one clawed finger lifting her by the chin. He leans close, the amber of his irises glinting in the dimness.
She swats his hand off, and he comes away with a quiet laugh. "I can protect myself, thank you very much. You and Danchou don't need to mollycoddle me all the time."
He laughs this time. "Oh, I know it, Val. I'm just teasing."
She stares out the window again, watching as the mountains rise, the mansions rising along in pointed roofs and carved pillars. Beams of lights dance upwards in waves of bright pink, blue, and green, making a fantastic show against the dark evening skies.
According to Elder Meinerth's information, the Mafia Don who invited her is one of the original Dons who stepped up the food chain and beat his other competitors. The mountainous city of Todi, located at the very center of the country, belongs to him and his gang. Valtiel could see it from the army of black-clad men, rifles idly slung over their backs.
The mansion is at the very top, giving them a good view of the other mansions and town below. Music already reverberates from the inside, as more and more cars and guests stream in.
Like a gentleman, Hisoka offers his hand to her as she steps out of their car. He offers his arm next, but she ignores it with her furry sleeves brushing his chest. He grins at that, licking his lips at the delicious rejection, and moves away as instructed. Apparently, Chrollo wants her to appear alone before the Mafia, while three Spiders are shadowing her movements.
This is weary work, this, Valtiel notes to herself. She has brought nothing but the invitation—a crisp black envelope with a thin silk ribbon. As she steps into the foyer, her heels clacking against the floor, she notices that the others have dark green envelopes.
She shows it to a butler, who seems surprised.
"Uh—ah—" the young man stammers, searching around for his co-workers. He glances back at her and she smiles, hoping to ease his terror. "The—uh—I'll let Lord Viper know that you're here."
"Thank you," she says. She watches him panic and pull another butler for a whispered conversation. She nips at her lips again. If the butlers themselves are this worried about this Lord Viper, then surely she should be just as worried.
A senior butler approaches her. "Lord Viper is expecting you in the ballroom," he reports as he tries to appear as composed as possible. "The party will start in ten minutes."
She follows the tide of the crowd. She feels rather bare. Everyone else has partners, ladies hanging off gentlemen's arms or the gentlemen's hand around the lady's waist. This might be the first time that she doesn't have Chrollo by her side during a party, and it feels… strange. She thinks she quite likes it, to meet the other guests' looks and incline her head at them in inquiry.
Nice as it seems, she could still feel Hisoka's eyes somewhere from her left. The magician remains unseen, undetected except by her.
In the middle of the ballroom, the young woman whose birthday they are celebrating is surrounded by her friends. From where she stands, Valtiel notices a silver-haired girl with bright green eyes. She wears a black gown dusted with gold glitter, with an elegant necklace with a black stone nestled between the valley of her breasts. Judging from her appearance, she must be around Valtiel and Machi's age.
Valtiel waits for someone to approach her. She doesn't know what this Lord Viper looks like. Every other gentleman is like a clone of the other: same black suit and polished shoes, a riot of rings on their fingers, some with jeweled canes. The more special ones have a bodyguard or two at their heels, or women dangling off both arms.
She is glad to be alone tonight, that's for sure.
Bored and rather awkward to be standing alone, doing nothing and knowing no one, she goes to the banquet table, her mouth practically salivating at the food and desserts. She takes a delicate pick of the locally made chocolate cake, with thin crust at the top but soft, gooey cake underneath. She hums as she drinks wine to wash it down.
Just then, an older gentleman seems to notice her standing quite alone and dismisses his friend. Valtiel keeps humming against her cake as the man strides towards her.
"Lady Valtiel?" the man suggests. He is rather handsome despite his age, with dark hair streaked with silver at the temples, and deep blue eyes.
"Yes." She makes a demure show of putting her plate down, then clasping her hands together in front of her. She tests the waters with this man, glancing down like a modest nun.
"I'm Lord Alassio." He shakes her hand in a firm grip. "I heard you were coming tonight."
"Indeed?" She feigns surprise. Inwardly, she cringes. This is not the Mafia Don she expects to entertain tonight. She needs Lord Viper, not this… whoever he is…
"We've heard quite a great deal about you." Alassio snaps his fingers, and a butler comes scrambling in to offer refreshments. His champagne swirls in the tall glass. "We have been trying to get in contact with the Elders of Meteor City, and it's especially hard to gain an audience with you. A respectable lady, as you are."
"I apologize for that," she says levelly, searching around the grand space. At the front, more and more guests greet the birthday girl. She turns back to her companion. "Lord Viper invited me to be here tonight. Could you please help me, my lord?"
"Of course." He finishes his champagne and holds his arm out. She accepts the offer, sliding towards him with her small hand on the man's sleeve. She decides that Hisoka's suit is softer.
They glide to the center of the ballroom. Valtiel notices the attention of the crowd, including the birthday girl who smiles and excuses herself from her little group.
"Uncle Alassio!" The other woman admits the Mafia Don into an affectionate hug. She kisses him on both cheeks, and smiles at Valtiel. "I didn't know you brought your new wife!"
"Oh!" Alassio clears his throat, chuckling sheepishly. "She's not my wife, Clelia."
Valtiel would rather be back in Leviathan instead of facing this embarrassment. Somewhere in the ballroom, she senses Hisoka's amusement spiking up. Any discomfort to her would always be an amusement to the wicked magician.
Clelia starts up, gasping, one gloved hand to her mouth. "Oh, I'm so sorry!"
Valtiel inclines her head slightly. "No need for an apology, Lady Viper." Then she sinks into a respectful curtsey, catching Alassio's quick glance over her exposed neckline and chest. She comes up from her bow with a sweet smile. "I wish you a very happy birthday. I'm honored that your lord father should invite me."
Finally, she could get things to progress, removing Alassio from the picture. Clelia starts up at the mention of her father and whirls somewhere to her right.
An old man with a cane saunters towards them. He carries such presence that the crowd parts for him, like a sharp blade cutting through water. He has black eyes, darker than Chrollo's, as he meets Valtiel's golden gaze, sizing her already from across the room, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his wrinkled mouth.
His daughter kisses him on the cheek and settles beside him.
The newcomer takes one glance at the black envelope and nods. "Ah, the infamous Lady Valtiel Eleison," he murmurs, still sounding amused. "Welcome. I am Lord Viper."
Chrollo's aura pulses all over the place. It sends shivers running down her spine. Out of worry, out of fear that he would snap and endanger their mission. She needs to distract them before a Nen user could fully turn their attention to Chrollo's barely unmasked aura.
She sweeps him a curtsey, deeper than what she offered Lord Alassio and even Clelia, her knees almost brushing the floor. She holds it for a moment longer, allowing Alassio a few more seconds to peep at her chest, letting them stew over their thoughts. Then she straightens herself, the white fur of her sleeves swaying gracefully at her movements.
"You sent for me," Valtiel begins, blinking at Lord Viper. Unlike Alassio, he is not taken by the pretend modesty. She needs to change her tune. "We have business to discuss."
"We can speak in private," Viper says without preamble. He nods to Clelia, who obeys and goes off to meet her friends. Then he waves Alassio away.
The Mafia Don leads her towards the other hallway that connects to the ballroom. Valtiel catches a glimpse of Hisoka lurking on the upper halls, shifting well enough to keep her in his sights. When the double doors shut behind them, his constant presence becomes dulled to her.
Hisoka allows himself a small complacent smile. His charge is alone with the target—that's all that matters. Although his mission is to keep an eye on Valtiel, Danchou doesn't mean it literally.
Does he?
Even up here in the gallery, looking down on the guests, he could still feel the faint aura. His senses are sharp enough to pinpoint Valtiel. Then again, she is not exactly hiding her aura as she walks with the Mafia Don, her disgust for him evident in the air. It's amusing.
Leaning over the stone railing, accompanied by his champagne, he feels the slightest movement behind him. He tears his amber gaze from the party below and tilts his head to his right, where the Danchou strides like a man with a purpose, owning the mansion, his chin up and eyes darker than usual. If Hisoka thinks Valtiel's aura is delicious, then Chrollo is an entire five-course meal.
"You left her alone with him," Chrollo starts ungraciously. "My order was to keep her in your sight. Keep her safe while Uvogin and I guard from the sidelines." His eyes narrow. "What has changed, Hisoka? Why did you not follow her?"
"It's boring to eavesdrop on their conversation," Hisoka says with a whine. "Besides, my mission was to specifically keep Valtiel safe, right?" He takes a sip of his champagne, never taking his amber eyes off Chrollo's as he finishes his drink with a sigh and a lick over his top lip.
"She's fine," he continues, propping his chin on his palm, his red bangs hanging just above his eyes. He smiles lazily. "I'm sure the Lady Death of Heavens Arena could handle old men, Mafia or not. Hell knows—I watched her fight and kill more dangerous men than Viper."
"Is that so?" That lifts Danchou's mood a little. He is enchanted at the idea of Valtiel fighting in the world's most popular battle site. "They call her Lady Death?"
"Oh, yes." Hisoka nods at the fond memory. "Her martial art is called the Death Strike, is it not? And the fact that she killed almost all of her opponents. The Lady Death." He chuckles at this next part, already imagining her face of protest. "I'm called the Grim Reaper. They call our pair the Diabolical Duo."
Like Valtiel, Chrollo wrinkles his nose at the team name. No wonder they make such good lovers. Their thoughts and temperaments are the same, predictable. Hisoka actually laughs.
He senses that this retelling is amusing for Chrollo, despite his misgivings. Bored out of his mind, without anyone to play with, Hisoka decides to push his luck even further.
"There was one time last winter," Hisoka starts as the leader inches closer to listen, "when an opponent roughed her up so much she broke a few bones and couldn't walk for days."
Chrollo stiffens, his dark mood returning in earnest. Hisoka takes the bloodthirst in stride, smacking his lips and thirsty for more than just a drink.
"I had to carry her all the way to our room." He flinches, pretending to forget the most important fact. "Oh, by the way, we shared the same room for months. That was the most logical thing to do to keep her safe all the time. The Arena was packed with lusty individuals, you know?"
"Like yourself?" Chrollo offers, tone polite.
"Hm. Worse than myself, of course." Hisoka flutters his eyelashes. "Anyway, she was too wounded and bloodied after the fight. She looked so battered that I thought she was really dead. So I had to check—right? Won't be nice if the Troupe's favorite little girl dies, am I right?"
Hisoka smirks at Chrollo's dark face. Oh, how the Danchou's lips curl into a strained smile. How he simmers beneath the calm, handsome facade. The magician puts a lilt in his tone, speaking in a hushed seductive purr.
"I stripped her down, dress and underwear and everything else," he starts, his low voice grating at Chrollo. As he speaks, he knows Chrollo is imagining the very scene. "I carried her naked into our shared bathtub, and let her soak there. The hot water made her skin flush pink. She's unconscious, mind you, and just sitting there and watching her was no fun."
The Danchou is frowning now, tucking his hands into his pockets. Is this how Hisoka breaks the Phantom Troupe leader? Let his wild imagination do all the work for him? Let his utter jealousy claw at his chest and finally get the urge to fight him? If this is how it should be done, then damn—he should have ravished Valtiel so much sooner.
"So I stripped myself," Hisoka continues, sighing at the memory. "I shared the bathtub with her and held her in my arms to make sure she's still breathing. I must say—" He licks his lips again, tantalizingly slow—"she's so soft to the touch, isn't she?"
"Enough." Chrollo's voice comes in like dark thunder, rumbling from the deepest part of his chest. His aura returns, pulsing off him like second skin. "I do not appreciate the way you speak about Valtiel," he says formally, though his threat is obvious. "She's not a plaything."
"Hm." Hisoka tilts his head to the other side. That's rich coming from Danchou himself.
"At best, what you did and what you're telling me is sexual harassment."
"It's not sexual harassment when she's willing," Hisoka dares the very gates of hell at this point.
"She was unconscious. She was not willing—"
"We kissed after one of my matches," Hisoka interrupts, watching in great pleasure as Chrollo's eyes widen, those round dark eyes shocked and confused. "The video should still be up—"
In one lightning fast movement, Chrollo has him by the neck, pressed against a carved column, the crack of the stone ringing in Hisoka's ear. And the Danchou's aura threatens to unleash on him. Hisoka's eyes roll to the back of his skull—the feeling of Chrollo's anger and dominance over him, his fingers squeezing at his throat, the torn look of raw anguish and fury in his face.
He is the leader of the Phantom Troupe, and Hisoka is his Spider. Fighting is not allowed between members. Between leader and members, more so.
Hisoka now understands how Valtiel is so drawn to Chrollo. He moans.
Still in the middle of their staredown, they feel the burst of malicious aura somewhere in the house. Chrollo glowers as he drops Hisoka. He turns to glance at the ballroom, but there is nothing amiss in the party. He turns to the magician, who purrs like a satisfied cat, caressing the blooming bruises around his neck.
If only Chrollo would look down south, he would see how turned on Hisoka has been in the past ten or so minutes of their encounter.
"Ah, there it is," Hisoka murmurs. "Now she's in actual trouble."
"For the record, this is your fault again."
"Don't feel so down. I'm certain our Lady Death can handle this." Hisoka has the grace to wink at the already pissed off Danchou. "Remember what I said? If you think she's incapable, she'd prove you otherwise. Don't restrain her."
Chrollo scoffs. He doesn't need lessons from him.
Hisoka wags a finger and singsongs, "Never underestimate wild animals, Danchou."
Viper leads her to a grand smoking room on the third floor. Despite its use, the room smells quite fresh, with no traces of smoke or alcohol. There is a small fire burning in the hearth, illuminating the room rather dimly. The lord takes a seat on a velvet couch, and gestures for her to sit in front of him. She obeys, sweeping white skirts over the burgundy carpet.
In the back of her mind, she wonders what sort of trouble Chrollo and Hisoka have brewed now.
"A drink, miss?" he offers.
"I shall take wine," she answers smoothly.
It is somewhat a great pleasure for her to see one of the Dons rise from his seat again and to serve her a drink. She takes a small sip, watching over the rim as Viper lounges on the couch again, swirling his own whiskey.
"I don't like this business with the school," Mauro Viper says bluntly. His voice is dripping with such obvious contempt that she flinches, rendering her speechless. "What do you have to say in your defense, madam? Do you think you can build a school, in my city, without so much as a permission from me? Do you think you can do as you please and think that the Mafia would not do anything about it?"
"First, it is not your city," she snaps. It could be the wine doing all the talking. "I don't need permission from anyone, Mafia or not, to do anything. I built a school because I believe that education is the key to giving children a brighter future. Not to be stuck in the endless cycle of poverty and ignorance and illiteracy."
Valtiel rolls her shoulders back, her chin lifted, golden eyes boring through Viper's black ones.
"No one wants to spend their lives following someone else's orders because they themselves don't know better. If the children are educated, we give them a chance to become better. They can choose whoever they want to be and what they can do to the education granted to them. Education is a right to every child, and every child deserves to have a fair start in life."
"Who's to say you have no ulterior motives?" He narrows his gaze at her.
"The only ulterior motive I have here is to give those children a choice in life," she growls.
"A choice not to become one of our hired men?" he challenges. "So that they can choose between a life of a lawyer than a life of an assassin or a bodyguard for the Mafia?"
"That is their choice," she reiterates, her temper rising steadily. "They can be bodyguards under your thumb, but they can be educated bodyguards—not some ignorant soldiers who would jump into the battlefield because you asked them to. Not some child-soldiers that are expendable. They will know what is right and wrong."
"You are a dreamer," he points out, the derision constant in his tone.
"If you were not some great Mafia lord, do you think a school for children is absurd?"
"Now that you mention it, it does not," he says with a short laugh. "Unfortunately for you, young lady, I am a great Mafia lord and this is something we cannot tolerate because it happened to be your whim and that you have men willing to dance for you."
"It is not a whim. It took months to plan and months to build. We spent a fortune and much time and effort for the construction," she exclaims, then checks herself for her outburst.
Viper's dark eyes narrow again. Valtiel keeps herself seated on the couch, hands on her lap, as she lets the silence hang between them. Someone's Nen is pulsating nearby. It doesn't belong to any of the Spiders. And it definitely doesn't belong to her or Viper. Yet it is here, lingering in the shadows like a rattlesnake waiting to strike.
The Don hums and finishes his whiskey. "I am one of the Ten Mafia Dons—" he begins, letting the words sink into her, as if she would forget—"and I value power and glory above all. Your school would bring neither power nor glory to my name. Although…"
He sighs, assessing her from head to toe. "I could be a judge of your power."
She pauses with a confused blink. The careful mask she has been keeping throughout the night threatens to slip away, to be replaced by her earnest confusion. Her power? What power? Her mind is still reeling from his words that she slowly notices the owner of the aura entering the smoking room. At once, his aura breezes towards her like a gust.
At the threshold, a young silver-haired man steps into the dim light. He has luminous green eyes with black slits, pale moon-white skin, and patches of transparent scales on his cheeks, forehead, and base of his throat. His aura is cold, just like his expression, and his eyes are blank and sad, devoid of any life.
"Introduce yourself," Viper commands the newcomer.
"My name is Cobra." He bows at the waist, his long dark sleeves trailing past his thin arms.
"Cobra here is one of the Shadow Beasts. Have you heard of them?"
"The Beasts are the Mafia's army of fighters," Valtiel remembers. "Your personal assassins."
The Don seems pleased that she knows. He gestures to where his soldier remains standing by the doorway, passively waiting for orders. "Let's settle this matter in the easiest, most barbaric way—battle to the death."
Valtiel's own aura instinctively pulses. In the back of her mind, Chrollo's aura spikes up and Uvogin's begging to be let loose. Hisoka's aura, she notices, seems to be gone. Cobra flinches at the combination of auras, searching the room but not finding them.
Her nails twitch even. She curls her fists and tucks them in her lap. "A battle to the death?"
"If you win and kill Cobra, I shall leave you with your school. You shall hear nothing else from the other Mafia Dons about the construction. You shall be free to proceed with everything, at your own discretion. I will even provide manpower, financial resources, and other equipment needed."
His offer sounds too good to be true.
But then he smirks at her. "If you lose, Cobra kills you and we demolish the school. We shall kill all the Elders and put new ones in the Council."
She could frown at this. She's not exactly glowing at the idea of dying.
He's not finished yet. His eyes narrow into dark slits. "The children you speak of shall be conscripted and sent to forced labor, military service—"
"Done," Valtiel interrupts. She doesn't need to hear more. There is no way—no way in hell—that she would let Warren, Julia, and the other children suffer the whims of an evil man.
She stands up from the couch, glaring her way up to the Mafia Don. "Shall we start?"
Behind the mansion, down the steep slope of the mountain, there is a massive garden with hedges that form an intricate maze, the pathways lined with potted rose trees, and a medium-sized fountain in the middle. Viper sends for his men, bodyguards in black, to watch the battle unfold. He sits on one of the stone benches, legs crossed, a drink in hand.
In early October, high up on the mountains, Valtiel shivers from the cold. She has removed the furred sleeves, leaving her with the tight white gown and low-heeled shoes. She observes their uncanny battlefield, sensing Chrollo watching from her right, Uvogin from her front, while Hisoka is nowhere to be detected.
Good riddance. She doesn't trust the magician not to distract her while she's fighting.
On the other side of the garden, Cobra steps forward, the silver of his hair and his already pale skin seem more translucent under the moonlight.
Again, her fingers twitch. Her claws want to be out. She blames Feitan for this need, this hunger, to tear through flesh and bones. After decimating through the Leviathan mere two weeks ago, she had hoped she wouldn't have to kill someone so soon.
And not someone so young.
Lord Viper takes the measure of the two battlers, and nods.
"Start."
Valtiel stays rooted at her spot, letting the breeze blow her long hair. She purses her lips as Cobra summons his aura, manifesting in pale green waves. She is nowhere near Troupe level when it comes to understanding Nen, but she knows well enough not to underestimate her opponent and not to rush head-on. At best, she would wait for him to rush towards her, use her ability on him and be done for tonight.
At worst…
Cobra dashes in a dark blur, whizzing through the air like a bullet. His long sleeves flutter at his sides, where the aura pulses even bigger and stronger. Something bulges from beneath the sleeves, making them appear bulkier.
She waits until the last second, at the moment he steps close enough for her ability. At once, her golden sphere extends, swallowing a good extent of the garden. Cobra gasps and jumps back, his reaction time flawless. He swipes his left arm in her direction, a massive snake slithering towards her with its translucent mouth open for a bite.
She jumps back as well, out of her sphere's influence and summoning the aura back to her. Her tight gown tears at the skirts, hiking past her thighs. The snake-shaped aura lurches at her, snapping and hissing, forcing her further backwards. Every time she dodges, the snake slams against the white stones, sending flurries of debris and dust.
Ah, damn. Valtiel coughs slightly. He had me there. I'm defenseless against Nen attacks.
Chrollo would find her ability lacking at this rate. He would find every weakness and scold her for being so careless. She scowls to herself as the dust settles—even if her ability is not as polished as the Troupe members, she would stand on her pride.
Cobra sends another beast from his right. This time, it takes the form of a slithering dragon, with curved horns and whiskers. It stretches longer and faster than the snake, almost snapping at Valtiel as she jumps high above their heads.
There he is. She spots Cobra on the ground below. Two Nen beasts idle by his sides: the snake emerges from his left sleeve, while the dragon idles from his right sleeve.
Their eyes meet. Cobra sends both beasts to her again. Valtel successfully dodges the dragon while in midair, but the snake wraps itself around her body, locking her arms and legs together. Cobra jerks his arms and she is pulled down to him, knocking the air out of her lungs.
He lets her dangle a few feet above the ground, still wrapped by his Nen snake.
She scoffs. "Hi."
"You've been captured," he notes.
"Quite," she agrees, trying for her arms. The snake tightens around her.
Cobra turns his blank green eyes to the Don. Viper merely quirks his lips. Finally, it clicks to her.
She drops her voice into a low whisper. "You're his son, and Lady Clelia is your sister."
The quick accusatory glance from her opponent confirms her suspicions. She could not believe that Lord Viper would turn his own son into his personal assassin, to force him into making himself look like his code name and create a Nen ability based on his father's whims.
"What are you waiting for?" Viper snaps. "Kill her."
"I've never killed anyone before," Cobra says in a very thin voice.
"Then she'll be the first," Viper hisses. "Do it now, Cryoz!"
That must be his real name, since Cobra's eyes widen in shock. Valtiel takes advantage of his momentary lapse to break free from the Nen snake.
A burst of her own Ren disintegrates his aura around her. She drops to the ground, body bent low, and she comes up with her palms pressed together like a prayer, all claws outstretched.
She stabs him through the chest, squinting at the amount of blood sprays on her face and neck.
Cobra growls as he opens his mouth, fresh blood dripping from the corner. His aura pulses from the inside—dozens of red snakes materialize from his mouth, spurting in bloodied waves.
It hits Valtiel right in the face. She suffocates in the stench of blood and the weight of his aura, gradually growing in size, taking more solid shapes. The snakes bear down on her, slamming her to the ground, rolling her across the garden, snapping at her arms.
She coughs at the profuse blood and looks up. She couldn't see her opponent through the curtain of crimson snakes hovering all around her. Her aura forms another sphere—her poor attempt at En—trying to locate him, but all she could register are the snakes lunging at her.
I made him mad, she realizes. I should have aimed for the heart. Or head.
One of the beasts catches her around the ankle, yanking her backwards. Another takes hold around her left wrist, stretching her to the other side. They are attempting to tear her apart, limb from limb. Lord Viper is correct: it is barbaric.
She hisses as the pain starts registering in her brain. The dragon from his right sleeve hovers above her, mouth wide open to show its translucent fangs. Judging from the angle, it is aiming at her throat. She glares at the dragon, fueling her Nen into another meager sphere, hoping to locate Cobra.
Her aura reaches him. Somewhere in this space, he is cradling his chest, desperate to stop the bleeding. He is far too occupied with his wound to worry about her.
Suspended from her left wrist and right ankle, she uses her free hand and shoves it into the beast holding her by the ankle. It gives away from the force. Just as she thought, Cobra's hold on his own beasts is frail as his mind is occupied in his injuries.
She manages to free herself, dropping once more to the ground. Her eyes pulse with pain, and she knows that the Scarlet Eyes are fighting against her will.
It wants to be used in this battle. To use the heart-stopping ability.
Golden eyes find Cobra's green ones despite the surge of the Nen beasts. She crosses the distance between them, evading the snakes that lunge and hiss at her.
She runs around the garden, rounding behind Cobra, keeping his attention on her. Even as she moves, Chrollo and Uvogin focus on her, tracking her movements. The Nen beasts surge towards her, all thick and massive and hissing. She dodges every single one of them, jumping and tiptoeing her way closer to Cobra.
When she is close enough, she makes one last twirl—and engulfs him with her golden aura.
Cobra realizes it a second too late, eyes wide yet sluggish. With his senses slowed, the Nen serpents do nothing but sway back and forth, awaiting for their snake master's tune.
In the sidelines, Viper sits up straighter and leans closer, elbows to his knees.
Valtiel pauses. Eight more seconds to spare. She waits for Lord Viper's acknowledgement. Any semblance of acknowledgement would do.
She wants him to stop her, to make any gestures to end the fight and spare his son. Yet there is none. Much to her increasing horror, the only indication of the Mafia Don's acknowledgement is a curt nod.
In the distance, Chrollo's aura also urges her to do the deed. Finish it. Cobra's young life or the school. His death or Warren and Julia enslaved and tortured.
Under the influence of her ability, Cobra's eyes are still blank. His life's blood drips from the gash in his chest. Valtiel sighs as her one hand tears through the already open wound, crushing his lungs and tearing at his heart. She swallows the disgusting feeling of his warm heart, still pumping, in her trembling hand.
When the ability dissipates, she turns for Viper again.
The old man stands and approaches her despite the mess of blood on the floor. His face is far too cold for a father who just lost his son. Perhaps the only indication is the way he sneers at the bloodied heap that had been his son once.
"The school is yours," Lord Mauro Viper announces. "I shall speak to the other Mafia Dons on your behalf. I believe you already met Alassio—he's taken to you, so he won't refuse. I shall provide equipment as promised, though expect that the community will visit every once in a while, to keep this friendship with the Meteor City and Mafia Community."
"Yes," she murmurs, dropping the heart and wiping the blood on her white skirt.
He looks at her up and down, his gaze lingering on her claws with blood dripping and bits of Cobra's flesh hanging off. "One more thing, though this is absolutely additional."
Valtiel waits, extremely drained from the fight.
His gaze is bold, unwavering. "What do you say about joining the Shadow Beasts?" he asks so casually that it makes Valtiel snap from her exhausted trance. "You killed my representative within the community. I should think someone who could defeat my own personal Shadow Beast could replace him. What do you think?"
She manages a tight, polite smile. "No, thank you, Lord Viper. I'm not really a good fighter myself. This was just all luck. Besides—I don't have an animal nickname to match the theme."
Mauro Viper chuckles at the quip and waves his hand, letting the offer go.
It's not true though. Valtiel does have an animal nickname, and she knows it.
She fetches her heels from the corner of the garden and walks off.
The Fourth Prince's mercenaries, plus a handful more opponents from Heavens Arena and the Leviathan, do have a name for her.
Bitch.
Rounding towards the front of the mansion, to the parking lot, Uvogin is the first one to greet her.
His face splits into a ginormous grin, all canines showing. "Kiddo! You did it! I'm so proud!"
She smiles through her exhaustion, feeling warmth spread all over her to see him. "Hello, Uvo-san. Were you waiting for so long?" Then she blinks at the absence of the two other Spiders. "Hm? Where are Danchou and Hisoka-san?"
He scoffs and crosses muscular arms over his chest. "Hmph! You won't be seeing that pervert magician anytime soon, kid, I promise you that!"
"Eh?" She blinks again, rubbing the tiredness out of her eyes. "What happened?"
"Don't you worry about anything!" He picks up her discarded heels and turns around. "Come on, let's regroup with Danchou. He's waiting just a few blocks away with our car."
"Okay." She yawns, pattering behind him in her bare feet, hands sticky with dried blood.
She makes it a grand total of ten steps before tugging at the bearskin on Uvo's back. The large Spider pauses and glances over his shoulder.
"Me tired, Uvo-san," she mumbles, golden eyes glassy. "Can't walk anymore…"
"H-Hah?!"
Chrollo Lucilfer senses their presence approaching somewhere from his left. He tucks his little book of poems to his pocket and pushes himself from where he is leaning against the hood of the car. He has a smile ready for his beloved, but then blinks at the peculiar sight.
Uvogin cradles a sleeping Valtiel on his left arm, his bearskin coat draped over her much smaller form. In his right hand, he's got her heels dangling by the fingers. He makes a face at Chrollo and sighs in defeat.
"Kid was too tired after the fight," Uvo says by way of greeting. "If you asked me, I would've killed all of them for her."
"I can see that." Chrollo reaches up to caress her cheek, chuckling at the drool trickling from the corner of her slightly opened mouth and dripping on Uvogin's white shirt. "I'm sorry about this. Perhaps I can take her from you now?"
"Oh, that's alright." Uvo grins and shifts Valtiel gently on his arm. "I got her, Danchou. She did a pretty good job on that snake bastard, so she deserves a good rest. I'm so proud of her."
"Me, too." Chrollo smiles at the bloodstain on her skirts. "We're all proud."
Author's Notes: Sorry for a little bit late of an update! I went for a one-week vacation, and so the chapter is one week late, too.
Hisoka really out here provoking Danchou for some action. What am I going to do with this problem child?⭐ -_- 💧Anyways, Danchou handled it pretty well... I think... Also, Uvo being such a better babysitter than Hisoka UwU
*UrPrettyOne - Danchou do be touching her every time they're alone. I can just see him sneaking a touch or two when they're alone in a hideout or something. Val didn't get more clues about the Kurta because Chrollo's hovering too close. I bet he can smell her suspicion from a mile away. I apologize if there's not much HisoVal this chapter. Danchou has had enough! 😤
*ciggerita - Aw, thank you so much for following and reading for such a long time now. I really appreciate it! ❤️
*sophist jo - FeiVal makes the dream work. LOL.
Thank you for reading! Have a great week ahead!