HxH: I Will Be Supreme

Garu sat in his luxury limousine in front of the estate and hung up the phone with satisfaction.

The stray dog was dead.

He'd expected Oboro to be smarter, to realize that taking on an entire family alone could only end one way.

The Fells weren't the elite of the underground, but they had solid mid-level status. According to the rules of the underworld, moving up meant inevitable conflict with other families and the accumulation of enemies, hence the need for capable security.

Although Sam and his team were competent according to Kuga's report, this Oboro far surpassed their current forces, Rhodes had died instantly.

The talent had intrigued him, but unfortunately the man did not understand his position.

Pulling on his windbreaker, Garu got out of the car and entered the mansion. Glancing at the upper floors of the castle, he noticed that the previously darkened windows were now lit. He quickened his pace.

Inside, the one-armed secretary and the Kuga flanked him.

Upstairs, there was silence; the battle was over.

The Nen user who'd stayed outside questioned his boss. When he learned that it was Bert who'd called and not the head of security, Sam became concerned, but considering the relationship between Bert and Sam, the secretary relaxed.

Typical Bert, probably trying to take credit.

Soon the group reached the entrance to the second floor hall, moving with authority.

The smell of blood didn't alarm them, such things were routine, and they assumed that Oboro had suffered extensively.

They only wondered if any of the four had been injured.

Garu pushed open the door and entered with a satisfied smile, imagining Oboro's body.

He intended to spread the pictures of the corpse far and wide, to demonstrate the consequences of stealing from his casinos as a warning to all.

"Hello!"

As Garu stepped forward, he looked up to see a familiar figure sitting in his chair, raising a hand in greeting.

His expression went blank, his mind unable to process the scene.

Isn't he dead?

"Protect the boss!!!"

The Nen user at the door yelled.

Professional instincts finally kicked in.

Swish!

Garu instinctively retreated.

They all registered the chaos in the hall and the three bodies, each killed differently.

At that moment, Garu noticed that Oboro had disappeared from the chair.

A commotion broke out behind him.

Before Garu could turn around, his body sank as an arm rested on his shoulder.

Something dripped from above, warm drops hitting his face, red and salty.

Blood!

As a non-Nen user, he had no time to comprehend what Oboro had done.

But Bert, crouched in the corner, saw it all: In a blur, Oboro had sliced through the crowd, his blows as precise as death itself, harvesting souls. Dozens of heads shot skyward in perfect sequence.

Kuga and Smith, the one-armed secretary, both dead.

So fragile.

They'd been like paper before him.

The hall turned into a monochrome painting splattered with crimson, only the bright red remained distinct.

Blood rained down as heads hit the floor, some rolling to stop at Oboro and Garu's feet.

The two men stood, bathed in warm crimson.

"You know I generally avoid killing, but this world sometimes demands ruthlessness. Perhaps I'm paranoid, too tense. This world feels overwhelmingly dangerous, and without overcoming certain barriers, survival becomes impossible."

Oboro spoke casually, as if reminiscing with an old friend, his arm wrapped around Garu.

"You are different. You enjoy killing, human life means nothing to you, right?"

Garu listened, his body stiff.

He didn't even notice his cigar burning his fingers.

"Listen carefully! If anything happens to me, the whole underworld will hunt you down. You'll be a marked man, hiding in the sewers like vermin!" Garu kept a forced composure. He had not reached his position through weakness.

"I'll even return the money, a considerable amount..."

Before he could finish, Oboro's fingers cupped his right cheek.

"Don't be naive!"

Oboro's expression turned cold. "You slaughtered dozens on that bus. To you, they were worthless, like weeds on the roadside. Haven't you heard? Those who deal in death will eventually meet it. You must have known that someone like me feels constant pressure because death is everywhere.

"I understand you, because from my perspective, you're just as insignificant.

"Now our roles have simply been reversed. You understand, don't you?"

As he spoke, Oboro's fingers gradually tightened.

"AHHHHH!"

Garu's face contorted as he thrashed and screamed.

To Oboro, the man's strength was less than a child's.

"Shut up now. You're a mafia boss, where's your dignity?"

"There were children on that bus, their deaths were kinder than yours will be."

The right side of Garu's face began to collapse, his distorted expression forcing blood from his nose, ears, and mouth as Oboro deliberately applied slow, steady pressure.

Letting him feel each increment of pain.

After several minutes, Garu's limbs hung limp, his breathing shallow.

Half of his face bore deep finger marks. His agony was obvious.

Finally, when no breath remained, Oboro's expression hardened as he disposed of the body like garbage.

Bert shivered violently in his corner.

Oboro stepped aside and removed his bloody clothes. With his back to Bert, he spoke calmly: "By dawn, by whatever means necessary, I want no one left alive on this estate."

"Yes."

Bert nodded frantically.

He understood Oboro's meaning perfectly.

Despite his severe injuries, he dared not refuse.

Even with a shattered leg, eliminating ordinary guards was no challenge; the loss of blood was his only concern.

Already, Bert was showing signs of anemia, his vision swimming.

But there was no choice.

His membership in the family would allow him to systematically lure the guards. Simple enough.

Oboro simply avoided tedious work. Why not use an available tool?

Let Bert exhaust his remaining usefulness.

Bert limped out.

Oboro did not worry about escape attempts because he knew that escape was impossible, even with a vehicle.

Bert understood that too.

Oboro found the bathroom and took a bath.

As time passed, various commotions echoed through the castle.

Finally, the light of dawn brightened the hall.

When Bert returned, looking pale as a corpse and completely exhausted, Oboro stood freshly dressed at the window and waited.

Suits being standard Mafia attire, he'd easily found one of his size on the second floor.

Clap, clap.

Oboro turned and applauded with a smile.

Bert managed a startled, ingratiating expression.

"I have some questions." Oboro's tone was relaxed.

"Please."

Bert nodded immediately.

"Since the head of the Fells family is dead, can I simply claim his fortune?"

"Well."

Bert paused before explaining carefully.

Oboro could transfer funds through the family's accounts, but timing was crucial before other organizations noticed the family's disruption!

Physical assets like casinos and real estate weren't easy to move.

The underground world was chaotic, with families often fighting over territory, but that was internal. External threats united them. The Ten Dons formed the foundation of this massive, rock-solid power structure.

The Mafia had its rules, internal conflicts were allowed.

When one family collapsed, others naturally tried to absorb it, but needed the approval of the Ten Dons. Typically, the Dons allocated resources, and family successors needed their approval, so it was impossible for Oboro to simply replace Garu as head of the family!

Once news of Garu's death spread, Oboro would be an immediate target for his murder.

The Mafia wasn't a simple organization, it was a system maintained by the authority and status of the Ten Dons.

Every family, regardless of their business, paid tribute to their regional "manager," one of the Ten Dons.

These Ten ruled the underworld absolutely.

"So instead of solving problems, I created bigger ones." Oboro mused.

"Essentially."

Bert weakly agreed.

"Looks like I won't make it to this year's hunter exam," Oboro sighed softly.

"Where is the headquarters of the Fells? Tell me all about Garu's operations."

"Yes."

Bert told him everything he knew, key members of the family, internal hierarchies. His survival instinct grew with every word.

"What are your plans?"

Bert finally asked cautiously.

His tone already accepted Oboro's leadership.

"What choice do I have?"

Oboro laughed dryly and craned his neck. "Since the Ten Dons have absolute authority, I must take this position myself. Otherwise, if one is killed, nine more will rise to replace him, an endless cycle."

Bert choked. He dared not even think of such an ambition!

"But first, let's finish our business."

"Business?!"

Bert froze.

What else was left?

"I said no one alive until dawn," Oboro smiled.

"I killed them all! Every last one! I've confirmed it!"

Bert's heart clenched as he replied urgently.

"That's not quite true."

Oboro frowned, "My exact words were that I did not want to see anyone alive.

"Yes, just as you ordered!"

Bert's legs shook violently.

"Really? Yet you are still breathing. Did you forget to count yourself?"

Bert's mind went blank.

Ice filled his veins.

"Would you like some help?"

Garu sat in his luxury limousine in front of the mansion and put the phone down with satisfaction. The stray dog was dead. He'd expected Oboro to be smarter, to realize that taking on an entire family alone could only end in one way.

The Fells weren't the elite of the underworld, but they were solidly middle class. By the rules of the underworld, moving up meant inevitable conflict with other families and the accumulation of enemies. Hence the need for competent security.

Although Sam and his team were competent, according to Kuga's report, this Oboro was far beyond their current strength. Rhodes had died instantly. The talent had intrigued him, but unfortunately, the man did not understand his position.

Pulling on his windbreaker, Garu got out of the car and entered the mansion. Glancing at the upper floors of the castle, he noticed that the previously darkened windows were now lit. He quickened his pace.

Inside, the one-armed secretary and the Kuga flanked him. Upstairs, there was silence; the battle was over.

The Nen user who'd stayed outside questioned his boss. When he learned that it had been Bert who'd called and not the head of security, Sam was concerned. But considering the relationship between Bert and Sam, the secretary relaxed.

Typical Bert, probably trying to take credit.

Soon the group reached the entrance of the second floor hall, moving with authority. The metallic smell of blood didn't alarm them, such things were routine, and they assumed that Oboro had suffered extensively. They only wondered if any of their four had been injured.

Garu pushed open the door and entered with a satisfied smile, imagining Oboro's body. He intended to distribute pictures of the corpse far and wide to demonstrate the consequences of stealing from his casinos, a warning to all.

"Hello!"

As Garu stepped forward, he looked up to see a familiar figure sitting in his chair, raising a hand in greeting. His expression went blank, his mind unable to process the scene.

"Protect the boss!"

The Nen user at the door shouted, his professional instincts finally kicking in.

Garu retreated instinctively, his aura-less body moving with pure survival instinct. They all registered the chaos in the hall and three corpses, each killed with precise Nen blows.

At that moment, Garu noticed that Oboro had disappeared from the chair. A commotion broke out behind him. Before Garu could turn around, his body sank as an arm rested on his shoulder, radiating deadly Ko.

Something dripped from above. Warm droplets hit his face, red and salty.

As a non-Nen user, he had no time to comprehend what Oboro had done. But Bert, cowering in the corner, saw everything with his trained gyo. In a blur of increased speed, Oboro had sliced through the crowd, his blows as precise as death itself, harvesting souls.

Kuga and Smith, the one-armed secretary, both dead. Their ken had crumpled before Oboro's overwhelming ko.

The hall turned into a monochrome painting, splashed with crimson. Only the bright red remained.

"You know, I generally avoid killing, but this world sometimes demands ruthlessness," Oboro spoke casually, as if reminiscing with an old friend, his arm draped around Garu. His aura pulsed with controlled menace. "Perhaps I'm paranoid, too tense. This world seems overwhelmingly dangerous. Without overcoming certain barriers, survival becomes impossible."

"You are different. You enjoy killing. Human life means nothing to you, does it?"

Garu listened, his body stiff. He didn't even notice his cigar burning his fingers.

"Listen carefully! If anything happens to me, the entire underworld will hunt you down. You'll be a marked man, hiding in the sewers like vermin!" Garu kept a forced composure. He had not reached his position through weakness.

"I'll even return the money. A substantial amount..."

Before he could finish, Oboro's fingers gripped his right cheek, Nen concentrating to a deadly point.

"Don't be naive!"

Oboro's expression turned cold. "You slaughtered dozens on that bus. To you, they were worthless, like weeds on the roadside. Haven't you heard? Those who deal in death will eventually meet it. You must have known that. Someone like me feels a constant pressure because death is lurking everywhere.

"I understand you, because from my point of view, you're just as insignificant. Now our roles are just reversed. You understand that, don't you?"

As he spoke, Oboro's fingers gradually tightened, his Ko focused to a razor's edge. 

"AHHH!"

Garu's face contorted as he thrashed and screamed. To Oboro, the man's strength was less than a child's.

"Shh, quiet now. You're a mafia boss, where's your dignity? There were children on that bus. Their deaths were kinder than yours will be."

The right side of Garu's face began to collapse, his distorted expression forcing blood from his nose, ears, and mouth. Oboro deliberately maintained a slow, steady pressure, letting him feel each increment of pain.

After several minutes, Garu's limbs hung limp, his breathing shallow. Half of his face bore deep finger marks. His agony was obvious.

Finally, when no breath remained, Oboro's expression hardened as he disposed of the body like garbage.

Bert shivered violently in his corner, his aura fluctuating with terror.

Oboro stepped aside and took off his bloody clothes. With his back to Bert, he spoke calmly: "By dawn, by whatever means necessary, I want no one left alive on this estate."

"Yes."

Bert nodded frantically.

He understood Oboro's meaning perfectly. Despite his severe injuries, he dared not refuse. Even with a ruined leg, eliminating the common guards was no challenge. His only concern was the loss of blood.

Bert was already showing signs of anemia, his vision was swimming. But he had no choice. His membership in the family would allow him to lure the guards systematically. Simple enough.

Oboro simply avoided tedious work. Why not use an available tool? Let Bert exhaust his remaining usefulness.

Bert limped out. Oboro was not worried about escape attempts, because he knew that flight was impossible, even with a vehicle.

Bert understood that too.

Oboro found the bathroom and took a bath. As time passed, various commotions echoed through the castle. Finally, the light of dawn brightened the hall.

When Bert returned, looking like a corpse and completely exhausted, Oboro stood freshly dressed at the window and waited. Suits were standard Mafia attire, and he'd easily found one of his size on the second floor.

Oboro turned and applauded with a smile. Bert managed a scared, ingratiating expression.

"I have some questions." Oboro's tone was relaxed.

"Please."

Bert nodded immediately.

"Since the head of the Fells family is dead, can I easily claim his assets?"

"Well," Bert paused before explaining carefully.

Oboro could transfer funds through the family's accounts, but timing was crucial before other organizations noticed the family's disruption. Physical assets like casinos and real estate weren't easy to move.

The underground world was chaotic, and families often fought over territory, but that was internal. External threats united them. The Ten Dons formed the foundation of this massive, rock-solid power structure.

The Mafia had its rules. Internal conflict was allowed. If one family collapsed, others would naturally try to absorb it, but they needed the approval of the Ten Dons. Typically, the Dons allocated resources, and family successors needed their approval. So it was impossible for Oboro to simply replace Garu as head of the family.

Once news of Garu's death spread, Oboro would be an immediate target for his murder.

The Mafia wasn't a simple organization, it was a system maintained by the authority and status of the Ten Dons. Each family, regardless of its business, paid tribute to its regional "manager," one of the Ten Dons. These Ten ruled the underworld absolutely.

"So instead of solving problems, I created bigger ones." Oboro mused.

"Essentially."

Bert weakly agreed.

"Looks like I won't make it to the Hunter's Exam this year," Oboro sighed softly. "Where is the headquarters of the Fells? Tell me all about Garu's operations."

"Yes."

Bert shared everything he knew, key family members, business information, internal hierarchies. His survival instinct grew stronger with every word.

"What are your plans?"

Bert finally asked cautiously. His tone already accepted Oboro's leadership.

"What choice do we have?" Oboro laughed dryly and craned his neck. "Since the Ten Dons have absolute authority, I must take this position myself. Otherwise, killing one leaves nine. More will rise to replace them, an endless cycle."

Bert choked, his aura shaking violently. He dared not even consider such an ambition.

"But first, let's finish our business."

"Business?!"

Bert froze. What else was left?

"I said no one alive until dawn." Oboro smiled.

"I killed them all! Every last one! I've confirmed it!"

Bert's heart clenched as he replied urgently.

"That's not quite right." Oboro frowned, "My exact words were that I did not want to see anyone alive."

"Yes, just as you ordered!"

Bert's legs shook violently.

"Really? Yet you are still breathing. Did you forget to count yourself?"

Bert's mind went blank. Ice filled his veins.

"Would you like some help?"

Bert's last thoughts were of his own foolishness as Oboro's Ko-enhanced blow ended his life.