In the final moments of Neferpitou's life, just before his body collapsed to the ground, his gaze remained locked onto Ronnel's figure. As if trying to carve his image into his memory forever.
Slowly, the light in his eyes faded, dimming into lifeless gray.
And yet, in that instant—
A thick, inky-black aura surged forth, filling his empty sockets like a well of darkness.
The resentment was pure, untainted by doubt or hesitation. It was the kind of grudge that could only be born from absolute conviction in life, condensing into something monstrous after death.
Boom!
Neferpitou's body hit the ground, motionless.
But the moment he exhaled his final breath—
The ink-like malice coiled in the air above him, hovering ominously before coalescing into a grotesque, shadowy form.
"Do you want Terpsichora?"
Watching the concentrated grudge take shape, Ronnel shook his head slightly.
In the original events, Terpsichora had only activated twice—once in battle against the intruding Chairman, and again when faced with the enraged Gon who had forcibly accelerated his own growth.
Now, history was repeating itself.
Ronnel remained motionless as the vengeful aura coiled back toward Neferpitou's corpse, reviving it as an empty puppet.
He had expected this. When Neferpitou was slain by Gon's wrath, his lingering sense of duty to the Chimera Ant King had strengthened his will beyond death. That same determination, fueled by resentment, had birthed a stronger Terpsichora.
This time was no different.
[This human is dangerous.]
[He threatens the King. He must be eliminated.]
These were Neferpitou's final, unyielding thoughts—now twisted into a powerful specter of vengeance.
But—
"What's the point?"
Ronnel murmured, watching as the corpse, reanimated by pure hatred, lunged at him.
With a casual flick of his wrist, the inky aura around Neferpitou dissolved, dispersing like melting snow under the sun.
Resentment was the last thing Ronnel feared in this world.
After all, it was resentment that had paved the path he walked.
Without the grudge fueling its movements, Neferpitou's lifeless body crumpled once more. This time, there would be no rising again.
With a fluid motion, Ronnel stored the corpse away.
Two down.
Neferpitou, the second of the Royal Guards—defeated.
...
As Ronnel secured the body, both Gon and Killua—who had been poised for another battle the moment the aura surged—finally exhaled in relief.
But before they could fully process what had just happened—
The central tower of the palace trembled.
Dust and rubble cascaded down from above.
"That's… Morel and the others. They must be fighting Shaiapouf."
Both boys looked up just as debris was flung out of a room within the tower.
Ronnel, sensing the battle from a distance, chuckled lightly.
"They're winning."
...
The fight against Shaiapouf had been straightforward.
With Morel leading the charge, the Hunters had the advantage. Knuckle and Shoot took turns attacking, while Morel flooded the battlefield with nearly a hundred Purple Smoke Soldiers, disguising their movements among the illusions.
Even with his intelligence, Shaiapouf couldn't see through their deception.
In such close quarters, using his scale powder—the Spring of Love—would have been his best bet.
But an unseen threat lurked nearby.
Unaware of Meleoron's ability to erase his presence completely, Shaiapouf assumed Shoot was hiding within the smoky battlefield.
He considered brute-forcing his way through, aiming to eliminate Morel and disperse the smoke altogether. However, the sheer number of illusions made locking onto his real target nearly impossible.
Even when he expanded his En, the feedback he received treated the smoke soldiers as indistinguishable from Morel himself.
Frustrated, he attempted to eliminate them all at once.
But for every smoke soldier he destroyed, Morel created another.
It became a war of attrition—one Shaiapouf was sure he could win, as long as he drained his opponent's aura first.
However—
He wasn't fighting just one opponent.
Knuckle and Shoot weren't standing idly by. They pressed forward, their relentless attacks steadily chipping away at his stamina.
What's worse, the number on APR—the little angelic doll latched onto him—kept rising with each strike.
Shaiapouf realized, too late, that the more he fought, the deeper he sank into their trap.
He attempted to unleash Beelzebub, scattering his body into multiple clones to target them all at once.
But the moment he did—
Knuckle's attack landed.
Panicked, Shaiapouf immediately reabsorbed his clones, unwilling to risk further division.
His pride stung. He was stronger than any human present, yet without a means of direct offense, he was being cornered.
It was humiliating.
And then—
In an instant, the cute little angel morphed into a crimson demon cat, radiating a terrifying aura.
Shaiapouf froze.
"When the time is up, if you fail to pay the interest—"
Knuckle's voice rang out.
"You go bankrupt."
Before Shaiapouf could react, an all-consuming sense of helplessness washed over him.
His aura was gone.
Sealed away.
And just like that—
He was thrown into absolute despair.
------------
Fanfic is completed on patreon.com/FanficsHub (799 chapters in total)