Chapter 63: Everyone, Hang In There!
High above the clouds, a massive explosion ripped through the original airship. The shockwave slammed into the upper atmosphere, creating violent, chaotic turbulence that tossed the two vessels around like toys.
Machi reacted instantly. Her Aura spun into countless, razor-sharp threads, weaving a complex net that snatched Chrollo out of the air just before he plummeted into the abyss.
The ground beneath their feet—the roof of the copy-ship created by Kortopi—was bucking wildly in the storm. Machi, with no other choice, spun more threads, lashing herself and Chrollo securely to the hull of the copy-ship.
Chrollo lay on his back, tied to the roof of a flying ship thousands of meters in the air, watching the original vessel disintegrate. Flames spewed from its torn hull as it began its long, fiery descent toward the ocean below. Through the cracks in the metal, he could see glimpses of charred, mangled bodies.
"Machi," he asked, his voice calm despite the roaring wind, "why am I still tied up?"
"Because I don't want you to fall and die," Machi snapped. "Now get inside."
Using her threads as a safety line, she hauled Chrollo—like a yo-yo—toward the broken window of the copy-ship's observation deck. Once they were safely inside, she sealed the breach with a dense web of Aura threads and finally cut him loose.
The copy-ship was still rocking violently in the turbulence.
It was identical to the original ship in every way, except for one crucial detail: it was completely, eerily empty.
Since Kortopi had copied the ship while it was in flight, the copy retained its momentum and trajectory. It was likely on autopilot. But with the explosion's shockwave throwing it off course, no one knew if it would actually make it to land without a pilot to correct it.
"We were about two hours from our destination," Chrollo said, standing perfectly steady on the swaying deck. He began walking toward the cockpit. "Kortopi's copies last for 24 hours. Theoretically, that's more than enough time for us to land safely."
"Theoretically?" Machi asked, her face grim as she followed him.
"We don't know what happens to the copies if the user dies," Chrollo explained, his tone conversational. "Option one: The copy persists for 24 hours regardless of Kortopi's status. Option two: If Kortopi dies, the copy vanishes instantly, and we fall into the ocean. Option three: His death triggers a Post-Mortem Nen boost, and this ship becomes permanent."
They entered the cockpit. Machi interrupted him. "Chrollo. Are we really just going to leave Kortopi behind?"
Chrollo began examining the complex array of controls. He didn't look up. "Do you believe Kortopi would betray the Troupe?"
Machi fell silent. "No."
"Then in that final moment, he was controlled. Likely by a Manipulator who was on board. That's why he attacked me." Chrollo turned to her, his dark eyes unreadable. "Machi. Can you, or I, identify who controlled him?"
Machi clenched her fists. "No."
"If Kortopi died in the explosion, or dies when the ship hits the water, then the person who controlled him likely died as well. Revenge is moot."
"If he survived... he's resourceful. He can make his way back to land and contact us."
Chrollo's voice dropped slightly. "Or, in the worst-case scenario... he survived, but remains a puppet of that unknown user. In that case... he is no longer a Spider."
"So," he concluded, turning back to the controls, "our priority is to ensure we reach land. Then we contact Shalnark and the others. Then we worry about Kortopi."
He looked at her. "Is there a flaw in my logic?"
Machi stared out the window at the endless clouds for a long moment. Finally, she sighed. "No, Danchou."
...
The copy-ship stabilized and continued its journey toward the Gukan'yu Kingdom on the South Ames continent.
Meanwhile, in the airspace they had left behind, the original airship was a falling star. Fire poured from its wounds, black smoke trailing behind it like a funeral shroud. As it tumbled toward the ocean, pieces of debris—and the mutilated, bloodied bodies of countless Pariston Hill copies—rained down from the sky.
BOOM!
Explosions... fire...
BANG! BANG! BANG...
A war-torn city. A child, crouching in the rubble of steel and concrete. Beside him, the severed arm of his parent, clutching a bloodstained business card case. Cards spilled out, bearing his father's name.
BANG! BANG...
The sound of explosions mixed with the endless, rattling gunfire and the piercing screams of the dying. Such boring, noisy sounds...
...
Pariston Hill snapped awake.
The first thing he saw was his own face. Three or four of them, in fact. All bloodied, mangled, and staring at him with dead, glassy eyes.
He looked around. The entire space was packed tight with bodies. His bodies.
He realized what had happened. In the final second, the Manipulator controlling the Phantom Troupe member had used the copying ability to fill the room with flesh. A wall of Paristons to absorb the blast, to cushion the impact, to act as a gruesome, human shield.
These copies were just empty husks. Pariston, wedged tight among them, looked at his dead doubles with mild interest. How macabre. That Manipulator certainly didn't do this to save me. Which meant...
The wrecked ship groaned and tilted, continuing its plummet.
Most of the Pariston-copies were mangled beyond recognition, shredded by the blast.
Deep within this fleshy cocoon, protected by the layers of fake bodies, were Kai and Shizuku.
They were locked together in a strange, desperate embrace. Shizuku had her arms wrapped around Kai's neck, shielding his Star Marker. Kai was pressed against her stomach, shielding her marker. They formed a cross, protecting each other's weak points.
Thanks to their quick reaction with Ken and the buffer of Pariston-meat, they were relatively unharmed. But the pressure was immense. They were being crushed by the sheer weight of the bodies packed into the room.
The other passengers hadn't been so lucky.
The explosion had been muffled, but the shockwave and the violent tossing of the ship had taken a toll.
Even as they fell, Kai felt it.
One wisp... two wisps...
Hot-and-cold Death Aura seeped into his heart.
About ten dead so far...
But there were many more gravely injured. If this dragged on, the Death Aura would spike.
We're all on the same boat here... literally! Don't you dare die on me! Hang in there!
Trapped in the crushing darkness of the falling ship, unable to move, Kai furrowed his brow. He focused on the ring on his finger.
{Shizuku... are you okay?}
(End of Chapter)