The room was quiet.

Too quiet.

Killua sat at the edge of the bed, his gaze fixed on Gon’s unconscious form. The boy hadn’t stirred in hours, his breathing shallow, his skin pale. Killua exhaled slowly, the sound barely audible.

His eyes dimmed.

His mind replayed the nightmare of NGL in fragments—Kite’s calm voice, Gon’s reckless determination, the suffocating aura of that Chimera Ant. They’d thought they were ready. Thought they could storm the nest, take down the Queen, and walk away victorious.

What fools they’d been.

His jaw clenched.

He could still feel the weight of Gon’s body slung over his shoulder, the panic in his chest as he ran—ran—from the battlefield. He hadn’t hesitated. He hadn’t looked back. He’d left Kite behind.

And now Kite was gone.

«When you ran away from the other guy’s Nen… that made you less than a loser… a failure.»

Killua flinched.

Those words echoed in his skull like a curse. He wanted to reject them, to scream that he’d done what he had to. That saving Gon was the right choice. But the truth was bitter, and it clung to him like blood.

“I’m no longer qualified,” he whispered, voice hollow.

He stared at the floor, fists trembling.

A Hunter?

He didn’t deserve that title.

A person?

He wasn’t sure he deserved that either. He had abandoned a comrade. He had chosen survival over loyalty.

And now, sitting in the silence of this room, watching Gon sleep while guilt gnawed at his soul, Killua felt like the worst kind of monster.

Not because of what he’d done.

But because he knew—

He’d do it again.