Northeast of the Eurubian Continent, nestled between rolling hills, was a modest town. Unlike the bustling metropolises of Yorknew or the towering skyscrapers of Sky Arena, this place was frozen in time—Simple brick houses, cobbled streets, and a peaceful, rustic atmosphere.
At the center of the town stood a small, ornate fountain, its waters glistening under the sun. Next to it, a young blonde girl—Rezi—sat on a wooden bench, carefully adjusting the puppet in her hands. She smiled softly as she worked, the intricate craftsmanship making the puppet seem almost... alive.
Passersby stopped to watch, offering words of admiration. Rezi beamed. If only every day could be like this... If only time could stop right here. But— Happiness never lasts.
As the sun dipped toward the horizon, the streets began to empty. The girl's smile faded. Her hands trembled slightly as she packed away her things, walking slowly toward home. Each step felt heavier than the last. She didn't want to go back.
***
"Did you see that?" Larry's voice was casual, but his sharp eyes never left the girl's retreating figure. Under "Gyo," he could see it clearly, A layer of foreign aura clung to her body.
"Of course~" Hisoka licked his lips, his gaze locking onto Rezi's eyes. "Heh... those eyes. It's him. It's definitely Omokage~" The playful tone in his voice did little to hide his excitement.
Even in the Troupe, Omokage had always been a cautious, elusive creature. He faked his death, abandoned his number, and hid away in some nameless town, making puppets to grow stronger in secret. But no matter how deep he buried himself—Hisoka had finally found him.
Larry smirked. "Looks like we won't have to waste time searching." And so, with quiet steps, they followed the girl.
The path wound through the outskirts of town, twisting through narrow alleys and hidden corridors. But to Hisoka and Larry, it only confirmed what they already knew—Omokage was still the same paranoid coward he had always been.
Finally, Rezi stopped before a small wooden house at the edge of town. She hesitated. Her delicate hands curled into trembling fists. Then, mustering the courage to move forward, she knocked. A voice—soft, unsettlingly feminine—drifted from inside. "Ahh, my lovely sister~ Did you have fun?"
Rezi's body stiffened. "Y-Yes... I had a good time..." Her voice was quiet, careful—fearful.
The door creaked open, and she disappeared inside. Larry and Hisoka stayed in the Omokages, watching with interest. It was time to meet the master of the house.
Inside, the room was dimly lit—warm, yet suffocating. Omokage sat at a large wooden table, surrounded by dozens of puppets—each one so lifelike, it was disturbing. His fingers delicately traced the face of an unfinished doll. The same twisted, eerie smile curled on his lips. "Rezi, my dear~" His voice was dripping with affection. "You seem uneasy... Is something wrong?"
Rezi hesitated. For a moment—just a moment—she thought about running. But there was nowhere to go. Because Rezi wasn't even human anymore. She was a puppet, a creation molded from Omokage's Aura. Her memories, her personality—everything had been stolen and replicated. Her real body had died long ago, but Omokage—her brother—refused to let her go.
Eternal life. That was his twisted dream. Through his Nen ability—"God's Puppet"— he had found a way to create perfect, human-like dolls. By embedding a person's actual eyes into a puppet's head, he could replicate their aura, memories, and skills. Rezi's life was nothing more than an illusion.
The expression on Hisoka's face twisted with excitement as he watched the unfolding scene. His eyes gleamed with anticipation, but he made no move to stop the approaching figure. Larry, standing slightly behind him, simply glanced at Hisoka's curved lips and the playing cards flipping effortlessly between his fingers. "He really can't help himself." There was no hesitation, no concern for his safety—just pure, unfiltered glee at the thought of battle.
It was inevitable that someone like Hisoka would eventually meet his end in combat. Larry wasn't particularly interested in the fight. He wasn't here for Omokage. This was Hisoka's battle. For Larry, whether Omokage kept or lost his special eyes didn't matter—either way, he would take him down with a single punch. Instead, what caught his attention was something else entirely. At that moment, a familiar notification appeared in his mind. The Gestation Bar.
Larry's gaze sharpened. 'It's progressing fast…' This was the first time he had seen the process move at such an accelerated pace. Normally, it would take significant time for a Pokémon to be conceived, yet now— The bar was already nearing completion. Larry tapped his fingers lightly against his arm. 'What kind of Pokémon would be born this time? Would it be related to eyes? Or maybe puppets? Or perhaps… something tied to the ever-changing, eerie nature of Omokage's abilities?'
For the first time in a while, Larry felt a flicker of curiosity. But before he could think further—
"Bang!"
The wooden door exploded outward, and a massive figure launched itself at Hisoka with frightening speed. Hisoka's pupils dilated. He twisted his body, bending backward into an almost impossible arch, dodging the attack by a hair's breadth.
The air cracked where the attack had landed. As Hisoka flipped backward into a graceful landing, he finally got a good look at his attacker. A broad-shouldered man with rugged features, muscles as solid as steel, and fists crackling with aura.
"Uvo…?" The resemblance was uncanny—it was identical to Uvogin, a member of the Phantom Troupe. But, There was something wrong. Hisoka's gaze lowered, and that's when he noticed it, Empty eye sockets. The puppet had no eyes.
A voice oozing with madness echoed from within the wooden house. "Hisoka~" The speaker stepped into view—a tall, thin man clad in flowing black robes, his silver hair shimmering under the dim light.
A deranged grin twisted across his face, his eyes filled with sickening excitement. Omokage. "I didn't expect you to walk into my domain so willingly!~Now, I can add another puppet to my collection."
Hisoka, unfazed, tilted his head slightly. "Heh. So you're the one behind these little dolls~?"
Omokage's ability—"God's Puppet"—was one of the most disturbing Nen abilities Larry had ever encountered. It allowed him to create perfect, human-like puppets, embedded with memories and abilities of their original selves. The more "accurate" the puppet, the more powerful it became. And to achieve that accuracy? Omokage needed their real eyes.
Right now, these Troupe puppets were unfinished, missing their original eyes—which meant they weren't at full strength. "A temporary disadvantage," Larry mused.
If Omokage had the eyes, these puppets would be almost indistinguishable from the real thing. But Larry wasn't worried. Whether these puppets had eyes or not didn't matter—in the end, they'd all be reduced to nothing.
Omokage's grin widened as he lifted a handful of miniature puppets in his palm. The tiny figures twitched unnaturally, expanding like compressed cloth when exposed to water.
Within moments, A row of towering figures stood before them, their Nen pressure rising into the sky. Uvogin, Feitan, Shalnark, Nobunaga…. An entire squad of Phantom Troupe puppets. Hisoka's smile stretched wide."Hmmm~ It's almost like the Troupe is back together~"