Chapter 58: Thief × Thief
Two members of the Kurta tribe left the city, carrying bundles of supplies.
Haze followed them—across mountains and hills—for two or three days until they reached the Kurta homeland.
During that time, the pair stayed extremely alert. They deliberately took detours, often turning around to scan their surroundings, wary of being followed.
If the Kurta's location were ever exposed, the consequences for their tribe would be catastrophic.
As Haze ventured deeper, he discovered numerous traps and alarm devices—expertly camouflaged—but none capable of stopping him.
High above, perched on a massive tree trunk several dozen meters tall, he finally looked down upon the Kurta settlement. Below lay a cluster of peculiar, uniquely crafted homes—many built from the roots of giant trees. Their rooftops and porches were carved with the Kurta's signature vine-like patterns.
The tribe's reverence for nature was evident at a glance. Yet beneath their peaceful exterior lingered the aura of a warrior lineage.
There were more than a hundred individuals scattered across the territory. Concealing his presence perfectly, Haze moved unseen.
Late that night, as most of the tribe slept and only a handful of warriors patrolled, he silently descended from the tree. His feet landed softly on the ground—then his figure blurred, turning into a shadow darting toward one particular house.
From his daytime observation, he had deduced that the large, centrally placed building must be where the Kurta stored their books. He had seen someone leave it carrying a stack earlier.
Not far away, a Kurta guard suddenly sensed something, lifted an oil lamp, and turned. Seeing nothing unusual, he resumed his patrol.
Centuries of persecution and bloodshed had made the Kurta perpetually vigilant—even now, they never let down their guard.
The house itself was completely dark.
That didn't hinder Haze's vision. As expected, rows of bookshelves filled the room, alongside some equipment.
He pulled out a random volume and flipped through it—then frowned.
He couldn't understand a single word. The writing wasn't in any known script of the Hunter World.
"…Ah, right."
He had forgotten—
the Kurta had their own language.
He looked around again. A few books were written in the common script, but most were general works—basic studies, historical records, or notes about other tribes and their limited knowledge of the outside world.
After searching for a long while, Haze finally found a book he could somewhat interpret—mainly from its illustrations, not the words.
The drawings showed figures in various combat stances, wielding weapons. It was clearly a martial arts manual.
"So that's it…" he murmured. "A tribe like this, uncertain of the world, trains every member to defend themselves. That must be how Kurapika learned his foundations."
To Haze, though, the techniques looked primitive—nothing worth his time.
He replaced the book and stepped forward, spotting another one placed oddly high on the central shelf. Unlike the others, this one had a red cover with strange, unfamiliar text.
Opening it, he found the first page illustrated with a painting and an inscription resembling poetry.
The painting depicted the sun and moon, with countless tiny figures kneeling across the vast land as if in prayer. A faint breeze seemed to ripple through the page.
Flipping through it, he found nothing but text—until the very last page.
There, an image of a door appeared—
exactly like the pattern woven into the Kurta clan's robes.
"Could this be… the gate to the Dark Continent?"
Haze's pupils constricted.
If his suspicions were right, this was fascinating.
After all, in the original Hunter × Hunter story, the Dark Continent arc centered heavily around Kurapika. Togashi, the sly genius he was, had quietly built Kurapika up for years—perhaps for this very reason.
No matter how the Succession War in the Kanjin Empire ended, Haze suspected that some passengers aboard the Black Whale would eventually reach the Dark Continent…
And when they did—
Kurapika would be the focus of it all.
"Maybe I should find someone to translate this," Haze thought aloud.
Just then, a flicker of light caught his eye—a torchlight gleaming through the window behind him.
Moments later, a storm of footsteps echoed outside.
"Come out!"
A deep, commanding voice shouted.
"…So I've been found."
Haze sighed, turned toward the door, and pushed it open.
Immediately, he was greeted by dozens of Kurta warriors, weapons raised, some already pulling back their bowstrings.
At the front stood a short, elderly man with a prominent scar across his forehead. His stern gaze and commanding stance made it clear—he was the Elder Chief of the Kurta tribe.
Beside him were several other elders, and at the back, women and children huddled behind their protectors.
Haze's eyes drifted—and he spotted Kurapika, still a child, standing next to his friend Pairo.
"Who are you? Why have you trespassed into our land? What are your intentions?" the Elder Chief demanded, his eyes narrowing at the book in Haze's hands.
He spoke in the universal language, allowing Haze to understand.
"Well… could you let me explain first?" Haze smiled lightly, shrugging. "I'm a scholar—curious about the cultures of different tribes. After learning about the Kurta, my interest deepened. I mean no offense; I simply seek historical knowledge. Since your tribe avoids outsiders, I could only act while everyone slept."
His tone was calm—almost sincere.
"We do not welcome outsiders here," the Elder snapped. "Leave the book and go!"
A scholar?
Even though they rarely dealt with the outside world, none of them had ever seen a "scholar" dressed in a tailored suit. The intruder's demeanor alone betrayed him.
A stranger approaching their hidden village was a severe threat—one they could not afford to ignore.
"Relax," Haze said with a smirk. "I won't reveal your location. But… could I borrow this book? Maybe just make a copy—or, better yet, if someone could translate it, I'll pay generously."
The Elder's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Or…" Haze continued casually, "we could be friends. I'll keep the book, and you tell me about your tribe's origins. Were the Kurta native to Luxon… or did your ancestors come from somewhere else?"
The Elder paused, then growled,
"I'll say it once more. Leave the book—and leave this land!"
Haze sighed. "Ah… I guess our negotiations failed. What a pity."
He tucked the red-covered book inside his coat.
That small movement made the Elder stiffen.
"I'll just borrow it for a bit," Haze said cheerfully. "Promise I'll return it later."
It was a one-sided declaration—like a thief pretending to be polite.
"Y-you…!"
"Bastard! Attack!"
the Elder roared.
Dozens of Kurta warriors surged forward, loosing their arrows.
But just as the first reached him—they fell to the ground.
Their arrows clattered uselessly, diverted midair. None found their mark.
Those still standing felt rage boil within them. Their eyes began to glow crimson, their blood pumping faster—their aura burning hotter.
And yet—
the black-clad thief vanished like a streak of shadow.
He darted through the chaos like a phantom, appearing suddenly in front of a ten-year-old Kurapika.
Time seemed to freeze.
Haze met the boy's eyes, then slipped something into his small hand.
A gust of wind swept between them, ruffling Kurapika's blond hair.
When the boy blinked, the man was gone—vanished into the forest like a fading wisp of darkness.
"After him!"
The Elder's voice trembled with fury and fear.
Dozens of torches lit the forest as the Kurta warriors gave chase.
Kurapika looked down.
In his hand lay a small leather pouch.
That night, the Kurta tribe would find no sleep.
Meanwhile, deep in the forest, Haze moved swiftly among the trees.
"They're strong," he muttered to himself. "Even though I held back, my attacks were meant to disable movement only—and the effect was less than ideal. Once they awaken their Scarlet Eyes, their physical power and blood flow surge dramatically. Even without full aura suppression, their detection sense is impressive…"
A grin curved across his lips.
"No wonder they made such an impact on the Phantom Troupe."
He looked back one last time, amused.
He couldn't understand the Kurta's language—but someone surely could.
And if not…
wasn't there always the V5?
His instincts told him—
this book was valuable.
(End of Chapter 58)