"Because now you're the prey."
At Killua's words, the criminal raised his eyebrows. 'Is this kid out of his mind?'
As that thought crossed his mind, his gaze fell on the watch on Killua's left wrist. A countdown was ticking. As a participant in this test—albeit on the prisoners' side—the man knew what it meant. 'So their exam has finally started…'
He shifted his eyes back to the boy. "Looks like your test just began…" he said, then, realizing something, he chuckled. "Don't tell me you think you can take me, kid!" His gaze turned sinister as he leaned close to Killua's left ear and whispered, "Tough luck, kid. Your fate's already sealed. I'm gonna—"
His threat was cut short by a strange sensation coursing through his body. Suddenly weakened, his right hand released Killua's collar.
'What's happening to me?'
Confused by the disorienting feeling, he looked at Killua, who asked in a mock-concerned tone, "Something wrong?"
The man's brows furrowed as he stared at the boy's face. "What… What did you do to me?!" he stammered, struggling to speak.
It was clear his condition was Killua's doing. Smirking, Killua replied, "I thought I was clear. The roles are reversed now."
As he spoke, he held up his right hand, showing the man what it held. The sight filled the criminal with shock and despair. Instinctively, he touched his left chest, only to find a hole where his heart should've been.
In Killua's hand was a bloody, avocado-sized mass of flesh, pulsing slowly but steadily. The hand holding it barely resembled a human's—veined, with long, sharp nails like a beast's claws sprouting from the fingers.
The man's eyes widened. He couldn't believe it. A kid half his size had ripped out his heart. How was that possible?
His body moved on instinct, stumbling forward as he reached for the heart in Killua's grip. "Give… Give it back… It's… mine…"
Just millimeters from touching it, the last spark of life left him. His soul gone, his body paled and collapsed.
Killua stepped aside, letting the lifeless body of his assailant crumple to the ground. Without sparing it a glance, he stared at the bloody organ in his hand.
"Sigh Still got a ways to go to match Dad's efficiency…" Killua muttered. He casually tossed the heart onto the corpse, shook the blood off his now-normal hand, and checked his watch.
6D:23:57:##
The third test had officially begun.
"Now that the hunt's on, what's my strategy?" Killua mused, slipping into a brief moment of thought. After a quick deliberation, he decided, "Chasing these criminals could be fun, but the ones I've met are too weak to bother with. Let's focus on the other candidates… Where to start?"
An excited grin spread across his face. As he'd said earlier, playing prey didn't suit him. This test, more than the others, thrilled him—it aligned with his nature. Hunting and assassinating were one and the same. A hunter stalks their prey silently, striking at the perfect moment. An assassin does the same with their target.
Killua glanced left, then right, and raised his right index finger.
"Eeny, meeny, miny, moe,
Tweedle-dee and tweedle-doe,
Higgledy-piggledy, rum-tum-toe,
Eeny, meeny, miny, moe!"
He chanted, pointing his finger alternately left and right. When the rhyme ended, his finger landed on the right.
"Alright, that way it is."
Without hesitation, Killua shoved his hands back in his pockets and headed in the direction his finger chose.
---
The island basked in the sun's golden warmth, creating an atmosphere both enchanting and mysterious. Killua treaded the winding paths of a dense forest, his steps muffled by the velvet shade. An hour had passed, but he'd seen no one except the local wildlife.
"Maybe I should've gone left," he grumbled. Despite the serene surroundings, Killua was restless. Killing earlier had reawakened his suppressed assassin instincts. He craved another kill. His hands trembled with anticipation in his pockets.
Then, sounds reached his keen ears—not the forest's natural hum, but human noises. Thanking the heavens for relieving his boredom, Killua headed toward the source with his usual nonchalant stride. As he pushed through the thick vegetation, the sounds grew clearer.
A few trees away, two figures faced off. One was pale with disheveled hair, wearing an orange jumpsuit. The other was older, with a blue mohawk, dressed in a garish green outfit studded with needles in his head, chest, and shoes.
"Oh, it's that guy who was chasing me," Killua whispered, recognizing the prisoner from earlier that morning. His gaze shifted to the other man. "And he's a candidate. Easy to tell with that weird getup."
Deciding not to join them, Killua kept his distance, spying from behind bushes and masking his presence. The prisoner held no value to him, but the candidate piqued his interest. Normally, he'd have barged in and sated his bloodlust by killing the candidate—and maybe the prisoner—but something held him back. His body tensed at the thought of approaching the candidate.
Finding it odd, he stayed hidden. "Hey, old man, hand over your badge. I won't ask twice!" the prisoner barked.
"And if I refuse?" the candidate replied in a slightly robotic tone.
The prisoner's brows furrowed. 'Is this guy nuts? With that look, he's gotta be a total psycho. Let's finish this quick and move on to other candidates.'
With that thought, the prisoner charged, shouting, "Here's your answer!" He swung a fist at the candidate's face.
But instead of connecting, his fist hit air. To his shock, the candidate was gone. "Huh?! Where'd he—"
As he scanned for his opponent, he realized his body was frozen, unable to move. "What the…"
Before he could finish, his vision darkened, and his lifeless body crumpled to the ground.
'Impossible! Killua thought, having witnessed it all.
Contrary to the prisoner's last belief, the candidate hadn't vanished. As the attack came, he'd outmaneuvered the prisoner, slipping behind him and planting a needle in the center of his forehead, killing him instantly.
'That movement…'
While most wouldn't have tracked the candidate's actions, Killua followed every motion, recognizing their nature. They were the same techniques he used to kill—the hallmark of an assassin.
'I was right to be cautious. This guy's no joke.'
Gripped by unease, Killua decided to abandon his spying and slip away. His odds against the candidate were uncertain, and one rule governed his life: never fight someone you're not sure you can beat. He had no urge to test his luck.
"Your camouflage is decent, but it's still got some glaring flaws."
Fate's cruel irony struck as the candidate's icy voice cut through the thick forest air, his gaze fixed exactly where Killua hid.
'Damn, he spotted me.'
This only solidified Killua's resolve to avoid a fight. He was about to use the distance between them to escape when the candidate spoke again. "Don't make me chase you, Killua."
That last word froze Killua in his tracks. Was he dreaming, or had this strange man just called him by name?
Turning to face him, Killua asked, "How do you know my name? I don't think we've met."
Though his tone was calm, his senses were on high alert, tracking the man's every move, ready to bolt at the slightest provocation.
"I see even you can't recognize me," the candidate replied in his robotic voice. "I'm both disappointed and proud."
"Am I supposed to know you?" Killua pressed, still clueless about the man's identity. "I saw your moves back there. You're an assassin, right? Got some tie to my family?"
He'd have remembered meeting someone like this. That he didn't meant the man was either lying or, given his skills, had some connection to his family—perhaps a brief encounter at their estate. 'Could be a butler. I don't know them all…'
As Killua racked his brain, the candidate said, "No matter. I'd hoped we'd meet later, but fate seems to have sped things up." He began removing the needles from his face, one by one. With each needle, the skin around the puncture warped. When all were gone, his entire face seemed to melt and reform endlessly.
The blue mohawk transformed into long, sleek black hair. His features grew more delicate. Finally, the changes stopped, revealing a new face.
Killua's eyes widened, his heart nearly stopping. The needle-riddled, frail, ugly face was gone. In its place were long black hair, large dark eyes, and an expressionless visage.
"B-Brother… is that you?" Killua stammered, his voice tinged with fear.
Before him stood his eldest brother… Illumi Zoldyck.
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