In a flash, a figure flickered into view.
Dozens of mirage-like images danced across Vega's field of vision—each moving silently, indistinguishable from the real one. They drifted around him without sound, like ghosts in the wind, yet they all shared one goal: closing in on Vega.
Vega narrowed his eyes. "That's... a damn impressive technique."
He gripped the Red Shrike tightly, muscles coiled, ready to strike at any moment.
Just then, from the blind spot of his vision, a shadow struck.
A hand—silent and swift—reached for the back of Vega's head, five fingers outstretched and crackling with Nen.
But before the strike could land, Silva Zoldyck abruptly withdrew. He pivoted back with elegant precision, but not without consequence—a faint ripping sound followed.
A clean gash appeared on Silva's sleeve. A single bead of blood slid down from a shallow cut.
Silva glanced at the wound, then back at the Red Shrike. His gaze sharpened.
He replayed the moment in his mind. He'd dodged the strike cleanly—or so he thought. The sword hadn't even brushed him.
And yet, his clothes were torn. He was bleeding.
The weapon's reach... extended farther than its physical length. And it was far sharper than it looked. Touching it barehanded was out of the question.
Silva calculated quickly. A weapon that dangerous needed to be neutralized—and in close combat, Vega's spear would be at a disadvantage.
With that, Silva changed tactics. He dove in again using his Shadow Step, sending a wave of illusions forward as cover.
Vega responded instantly. He drove the Red Shrike into the earth with a snarl.
Boom!
A massive clump of dirt erupted upward. With a twist of his fist, Vega shattered it, launching a barrage of jagged stones like cannon fire toward the swarm of shadows.
The impact dispelled the illusions immediately—clearing the battlefield.
Vega's eyes darted across the space. Left. Right. Behind—wait.
He spotted it. A single figure among the phantoms moved differently, subtly avoiding debris rather than phasing through it.
"Got you."
Vega lunged, sword slashing forward in a flurry—thrusts, feints, sweeping arcs. His raw technique was inferior, but the Red Shrike's deadly edge made up for it.
Steel clashed against aura as Silva engaged him, barehanded but no less deadly.
Silva quickly spotted gaps in Vega's form, openings he could exploit.
But each time he was about to strike, Vega abandoned the exchange and shifted to a desperate stance—Red Shrike poised to bisect anything in its path.
Silva paused each time. Even if his strikes could dent Vega's armor, he wasn't confident they'd do more than bruise him. Meanwhile, one wrong move on his part, and the sword would slash even his hardened body.
As much as the Zoldycks were known for fearlessness, even Silva had to weigh the risks.
He couldn't afford to trade his life for just a minor injury.
Thus, the fight reached an impasse.
Neither man could afford to overcommit.
Vega kept Silva at bay with the Red Shrike's reach and deadly aura.
Silva sought an opening that wouldn't end in his own death.
"Boom! Boom! Boom!"
Their clash shook the landscape. Craters formed, trees toppled, and shards of rock flew in every direction as the two exchanged brutal, high-speed attacks.
"Bang!"
Silva fired a precision Nen bullet—Vega dodged and swept his sword in a wide arc, forcing Silva to disengage again.
Vega skidded back, foot digging into the dirt.
He was done playing defensive.
He'd considered using experience points to upgrade Phantom Severance and end the fight in one strike—but the idea came with risks.
He remembered the rest of the Zoldyck family: Zeno, Illumi, even the ancient Maha.
If he killed Silva here, it wouldn't end with just one death. The Zoldycks would retaliate. Worse, they might use Alluka and the wish-granting power to take everything from him—including his Nen abilities.
Too many unknowns.
Too many dangers.
So instead, Vega took a breath, raised his voice, and proposed the one option he had left.
"Silva Zoldyck," he said calmly, standing at a safe distance. "This fight's gone on long enough. We're evenly matched. There's no point continuing this."
His spear gleamed in the sunlight. "You can't kill me."
Silva's eyes narrowed.
"The Zoldyck family always completes the contracts it accepts," he replied coldly. "That's our code."
"And we've never abandoned a mission."