Zevil island is thick with humidity and danger. Each applicant was given a number badge—a target. Seven days to huny or be hunted.

Kurapika has already memorized his. Your number. He moves silently through the trees, footsteps measured and senses sharpened. This phase is not brute strength, it's about patience, strategy and timing. Everything he excels at.

He spots you before you notice him. Standing near the shoreline, checking your surroundings, alert but not alert enough. His fingers brush against the edge of his wooden blade, not getting the chance to draw it before a closer look at you has him pausing. This target of his, it's not just an aspiring Hunter—it's someone he buried with the rest of his clan. Someone he mourned.

Mind blurred by disbelief, Kurapika steps forward, causing a branch to snap beneath his shoe. Your head turns, and the recognition is instant. Both of you thought you were alone, the sole survivor of the Kurtas, and yet.

"You're alive." he says quietly.