[17]: Elders

The corridor outside the room, even at the door, was completely unguarded.

It seemed they were confident that no one would dare to eavesdrop on their conversation within the church. This played right into Cyr's hands.

He pressed his ear against the door, focusing intently. To better catch the conversation inside, he even used Nen to enhance his hearing.

His Six Eyes allowed him to see the aura around others—and, naturally, his own.

After enduring Sid's Nen attacks during training for so long, Cyr had finally picked up a few tricks. If he hadn't, his so-called talent would indeed be questionable.

Unlocking his aura nodes was akin to unblocking the legendary meridians in martial arts (which is pretty much the same) enabling him to control the life energy within him, referred to as Nen.

The four major stages of Nen training were:

1. Ten (Strengthen)

2. Zetsu (Suppress)

3. Ren (Amplify)

4. Hatsu (Release)

To Cyr, this wasn't too different from manipulating Cursed Energy, though the source differed: one stemmed from life energy, the other from negative emotions. Despite the distinct origins, the fundamentals overlapped, allowing Cyr to grasp the basics swiftly. However, the specifics of his Nen ability still required exploration.

When aura nodes remained closed, a small amount of energy naturally leaked out. Once opened, this leakage increased, necessitating control to avoid energy drain. Without mastering Nen, one could become lethargic, listless, and constantly fatigued.

For now, Cyr found Ten—the ability to shroud his body in Nen for defense—the most practical, compensating for his current lack of defensive abilities.

Without his Infinity unlocked yet, his arsenal was largely offensive.

Of course, both Cursed Energy and Nen could be used to enhance his physical body, allowing him to withstand significant blows. Even now, these powers helped amplify his hearing for eavesdropping.

Nen abilities, shaped by the user's imagination and intentions, offered endless possibilities.

Inside the opulently decorated conference room of the District One church, luxury was on full display. Velvet carpets lined the floor, and golden objects adorned with gemstones sparkled throughout. Even the tablecloth was embroidered with intricate patterns using golden thread.

A twelve-meter-long conference table was flanked by figures dressed in black robes or suits. Behind each individual stood burly guards or bodyguards.

Nearly fifty people filled the room, creating a heavy atmosphere.

"I heard the missing kids from District Thirteen were all found?" scoffed a man in a suit, his fingers glittering with gemstone rings.

"Didn't Pampas visit District Two recently? With his capabilities, it's no surprise the kids were recovered," a man wrapped in bandages muttered, his black clerical attire exuding gloom.

"After all, these children are the future of Meteor City. I had to try to safeguard our future," Pampas, seated at the far end of the table with his golden hair and green eyes, spoke with a light chuckle, his tone devoid of hidden meanings.

"Hah! Do you think you're some kind of savior of Meteor City?!" another man bellowed, slamming his hand on the table. Thankfully, the table's sturdy construction withstood the force.

"Not at all. I'm just a minor figure within the Council of Elders," Pampas said with a mock surrender, raising both hands.

"Alright, enough," said a masked woman, seemingly stepping in to mediate. However, she quickly added, "I hear you've recently recruited a rather capable subordinate, Pampas. Care to introduce him to us?" Her dark eyes glinted with amusement beneath her mask as she gazed at Pampas.

"He's indeed talented, so much so that I'm afraid you'd try to recruit him yourselves. After all, I can't compete with any of you in any aspect. I doubt I'd manage to keep him," Pampas replied smoothly, maintaining his calm demeanor.

"Cut the nonsense! That guy has killed so many people and destroyed multiple buildings. Hand him over!" another man demanded coldly.

"He was simply a victim, dragged into danger and forced to fight for survival," Pampas said, shaking his head. Noticing the mocking expressions around the table, he added, "By the way, I've discovered something interesting. Something that might pique the Phantom Troupe's interest."

The mention of the Phantom Troupe made several elders visibly tense.

If the issue of the missing children reached the Troupe, it would escalate beyond control, likely costing several elders their positions.

The upheaval from over a decade ago was still fresh in the minds of some. The elders exchanged uneasy glances, silently weighing their options.

"Let's not make a fuss. The children have been found, and the matter is resolved. There's no need for the Troupe to get involved, right, Pampas?" an older elder finally broke the silence, his voice calm but authoritative.

"Of course. That's why I'm sitting here, having this pleasant chat with you all," Pampas said, retreating gracefully.

With this, both sides tacitly agreed to let the matter drop. The Council would no longer demand Pampas hand over the culprit, and Pampas would keep the Troupe out of it.

As the meeting adjourned, the elders rose and began to leave.

Pampas remained seated, his emerald eyes fixed on a bandaged figure.

"By the way, Farouk, I hope District Thirteen won't continue having problems. Losing so many children in such a short time reflects poorly on your management," Pampas said calmly.

Farouk, his deep-set brown eyes glinting, replied coldly, "Plenty of brats die every year. Those worthless ones—who cares where they end up?"

He bore the sun and moon symbols on his hands.

"Is that so?" Pampas nodded slightly, as if in agreement.

"Hmph." Farouk turned and left. The other elders exchanged glances and followed suit.

Once the hall emptied, Cyr appeared.

He entered the now-deserted conference room, his expression one of disinterest. "So, you've been dealing with a bunch of rotten apples this whole time?"

"Rotten apples… An apt description," Pampas remarked, somewhat surprised by Cyr's sudden appearance. After a moment of thought, he nodded.

Even among supposedly fine fruit, there would always be rotten ones. But this group? They were all rotten.

"No one else can deal with the Council but me," Pampas sighed, exasperated.

"Same everywhere. Boring," Cyr scoffed, his tone dripping with disdain and arrogance.

"Is that really the end of it?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Hardly. They probably see me as an obstacle now, and I wouldn't be surprised if they start scheming against me," Pampas said, rubbing his temples with a weary sigh.

Still, he wasn't entirely unprepared.

"For now, your identification is ready. If you want to leave, you can do so anytime," Pampas said, handing Cyr a card.

°°°

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