Hunter X Hunter: I Got Stronger After I Died

Everything happened far too suddenly.

That declaration of victory from the sky abruptly interrupted the surge of excitement Hisoka had been feeling.

"..."

Caught completely off guard, Hisoka inevitably missed the best opportunity to react.

He hadn't managed to retract his Bungee Gum attached to the thrown playing cards in time, and the connection broke due to the increasing distance between him and Moro.

The speed of the aura projectile was simply too fast.

Clearly, when the projectile was in its returning state, both its size and velocity had at least doubled.

Hisoka began to discern the nature of Moro's ability.

From the very beginning, Moro had planned his escape.

Meanwhile, Hisoka, unable to resist the "temptation," had foolishly fallen into Moro's trap.

Ah, love…

It always blinds people, doesn't it?

But how could he just let it go?

In an instant, Hisoka's aura exploded with intensity. The excitement and exhilaration on his face disappeared, replaced by a twisted, maniacal expression.

His desire had grown to an uncontrollable level—he had to release and unleash it here and now!

Bungee Gum!

Hisoka's face twisted with madness as he looked at the rapidly retreating Moro. With lightning speed, he flung the pink elastic aura toward a nearby tree, forming a large slingshot.

And Hisoka himself became the projectile, enveloped in a cocoon of pink aura.

Creaaak… creaaak…

The elastic aura, with the properties of both rubber and gum, stretched taut as it gathered power.

Boom!

In the next instant, Hisoka shot through the air like a cannonball, moving so fast that visible shockwaves rippled ahead of him.

On the Flying Aura Projectile

Moro had already averted his gaze, squinting slightly as he endured the strong wind currents from the high-speed flight.

Having experienced jumping off the airship earlier, he was entirely unfazed, regardless of where the projectile might take him.

"Hmm?"

Suddenly, Moro felt a chill run down his spine. Instinctively, he turned to look behind him—and saw Hisoka's wildly deranged face hurtling straight toward him.

The man was flying through the air.

At a glance, Moro instantly understood what Hisoka had done.

"This lunatic… has he gone insane?"

Moro was astonished.

Given the distance, how could someone rely solely on the rebound force of Bungee Gum to catch up to his projectile?

And yet, Hisoka had done just that.

However, Hisoka's momentum quickly began to fade. His speed dropped significantly, and he started to fall.

Watching Hisoka run out of energy and begin plummeting toward the ground, Moro's expression turned complicated.

He couldn't shake the feeling that he had pushed Hisoka into experiencing a life-altering level of emotional stimulation.

To the point where it drove Hisoka to madness...

And now, Moro wasn't even sure if Hisoka would honor their bet after this.

But what was done was done. There was no use dwelling on it.

With that thought, Moro did the only thing he could—wave goodbye to Hisoka.

Seeing Moro's wave, Hisoka's crazed expression froze for a moment.

It wasn't that the gesture provoked him; it was the realization that the overwhelming desire burning inside him had nowhere to go.

"Ah…"

Hisoka's strength seemed to drain away as he allowed his body to fall toward the ground, devoid of purpose or hope.

The figure of Moro grew smaller and smaller in his eyes, until it finally disappeared.

Madness… followed by impotence.

Elsewhere in the City

Silva Zoldyck flexed his slightly sore wrist as he strode into the shadows, away from the reach of the streetlights.

"The Phantom Troupe, huh…"

His voice echoed in the dark alley.

The bounty for killing a member of the Troupe was substantial, but Silva didn't think it was worth it.

It wasn't just physically demanding—it also meant being chased relentlessly by the Troupe in the name of revenge.

At first, Silva had tried to avoid unnecessary conflict, focusing instead on escaping.

But as the Troupe pressed him harder and harder, Silva's patience began to wear thin.

Though he was a consummate professional, even a saint has their limits.

Faced with the Troupe's relentless pursuit, Silva eventually entertained the thought of killing one or two more members to make an example of them.

However, when he put this plan into action, he found it much harder than expected to pick off a single member of the group.

The key to this difficulty lay in their leader—a young man wielding a black-and-red book with a variety of abilities.

If it had been one-on-one, it wouldn't have been an issue…

But the problem was that the young leader, with his remarkable awareness and decision-making skills, had united his team into a tightly bound force. Like a sturdy rope, they consistently turned the tide at critical moments.

After multiple attempts, Silva realized that breaking this "rope" would come at a price.

And it wasn't worth it.

Reluctantly, Silva decided to stop engaging and focused on escaping instead.

Only now, after much effort, had he finally shaken off the Phantom Troupe's pursuit.

As he walked through the dark alleys, Silva silently committed the Phantom Troupe's name to memory.

More precisely, he remembered the young man leading them.

If another job involving the Phantom Troupe ever came up, he might not refuse it outright—but the price would have to be several times higher.

Near the City Center

The sound of distant sirens grew louder and closer.

The chaos at the fountain plaza had clearly drawn the attention of the city's police force.

One police car after another raced toward the source of the disturbance, only to run straight into the Phantom Troupe.

The Troupe's members were already in a foul mood after one of their own had been killed and their attempt at revenge had failed.

The arrival of the police became an outlet for their frustration.

Within moments, a dozen or so police cars were left burning wrecks.

The acrid smell of gasoline filled the air as flames roared and black smoke billowed skyward like writhing dragons.

Bodies lay scattered around, illuminated by the flickering firelight.

"Any word on Men'ei?"

Shalnark stood with one hand on his hip, typing on his phone with the other, as he glanced in a particular direction.

Chrollo remained silent, his expression unreadable.

Meanwhile, Machi, Phinks, and Pakunoda kept their focus on their surroundings.

Near the wreckage of the burning police cars, shadowy figures began to emerge, each one armed to the teeth.

Seeing the group of hostile newcomers, Machi casually pulled out a strand of aura thread and said, "Bounty hunters."

"Are we going to look for Men'ei?" Phinks asked, ignoring the bounty hunters entirely.

Hearing this, Machi and the others instinctively turned to Chrollo.

Chrollo, equally indifferent to the bounty hunters, was about to respond when he suddenly looked up.

A dark figure shot through the thick smoke, plummeting toward the ground like a meteor.

Boom!

The ground cracked open with the impact.

All eyes turned toward the source of the commotion.

Amid the swirling dust, an oppressive aura filled the air, sending chills down their spines.

The figure that had landed was none other than Hisoka.

"Disappointment… disappointment… disappointment…"

Hisoka staggered to his feet, swaying like a zombie.

The aura emanating from him was jarring and unsettling to the Phantom Troupe members.

Barely managing to stand upright, Hisoka's gaze locked onto the bounty hunters surrounding him.

In that instant—

The bounty hunters felt as though invisible hands were choking them, stealing the breath from their lungs.

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