"A question," Gon said softly. He stepped onto the bone-hand's palm.

"You who became nothing. Do you still want to be a Hunter?"

"Chain User," her voice chimed, a music box playing on broken notes. "The Prince of Tier 1 sends his regards. He wants your eyes."

"Then the puppet will unmake me. And you'll forget my face forever."

It wasn’t a footstep. It was the sound of a thousand tiny joints realigning.

Gon smiled his old, reckless smile.

The bone-hatch burst open. A hand—enormous, skeletal, but gentle—reached out. It wasn't attacking. It was offering .

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