A dilapidated church.
Sparse trees and bushes grew around it, encircled by a stone wall further out.
The wall was heavily pitted, with some corners severely damaged.
It looked as though it had been baptized by war, presenting a ruined scene of broken walls and debris.
At this moment, a group of children huddled their heads together, peering curiously into the church and whispering among themselves.
“Hmm…
it’s the new big brother…” “He looks even more handsome than big brother Chrollo…” “Did he come to join boss Chrollo?” The children chattered over one another.
Even though they were still at the age of runny noses, their words carried a distinct bandit-like swagger.
They were a group of Meteor City orphans, sheltered by Chrollo, Pakunoda, and the others.
If there were any lucky ones in Meteor City, they might just be among them.
Naturally, the person the children were discussing was Ian.
After Feitan fainted, Ian followed Chrollo and the rest to what could be considered their home base.
Through the broken church windows, Ian noticed the children secretly peeking at him.
“The children here are…?” He winked at them, a faint smile touching his lips, before turning to ask Chrollo beside him.
“You could say we picked them up…” Chrollo followed Ian’s gaze, a flash of softness appearing in the depths of his calm eyes.
“These children are the losers of Meteor City.
If we don’t offer them shelter, it would be very difficult for them to survive.” Facing Ian’s inquiry, Chrollo’s tone remained perfectly even.
Yet, Ian could sense a feeling of powerlessness in his answer.
At this time, Chrollo was not yet the infamous leader of the A-Class thieving organization, the Phantom Troupe.
However, even after he became the future leader of the Phantom Troupe, most of the money he plundered was spent on the children of Meteor City.
To some extent, for this group of Meteor City orphans, the future Chrollo and his companions were more like Robin Hoods who robbed the rich to feed the poor, acting as heroes in their eyes.
Listening to Chrollo, Ian looked at the children, his gaze thoughtful.
He recalled the grudges between the Phantom Troupe and Kurapika from his past life.
Although he only had a superficial understanding of the anime’s plot, he knew the catalyst for their conflict was the Troupe’s massacre of the Kurta Clan.
Was it really just to plunder the Scarlet Eyes, one of the Seven Most Beautiful Colors in the world?
That reason didn’t hold water.
Although the Troupe acted recklessly, an atrocity like wiping out an entire clan at the drop of a hat wasn’t something the others would likely do, except perhaps a deranged maniac like Feitan.
At the scene of the massacre, the Troupe left behind only a single message: “We reject no one, so take nothing from us.” That single sentence allowed Kurapika to learn the identity of his enemies and find his life’s purpose, even though he never witnessed any direct evidence of the Troupe slaughtering his people.
In the anime, when Uvogin was killed by Kurapika, he personally admitted to the deed.
In Ian’s view, whether it was Uvogin, Nobunaga, or Chrollo, they all retained a simple set of values.
That is, they disdained lying about or denying the things they had done.
But at the same time, even in the face of death, they couldn’t be bothered to explain their motives to anyone outside Meteor City just to survive.
Issuing an order to exterminate the Kurta Clan—whether out of contempt or disregard—did not align with the personality Chrollo displayed.
The group of Meteor City orphans sheltered by them right in front of him was proof enough…
This guy Chrollo was not a cold, heartless person.
The foundation of his character was still soft, and he had his own weaknesses.
Furthermore, in Ian’s memory, the manga seemed to mention a girl named Sarasa.
She was a lively and adorable girl, a childhood playmate of the Phantom Troupe members.
But…
she died…
Dismembered and recorded by scumbags who smuggled themselves into Meteor City…
Her death was incredibly gruesome…
Perhaps this was the very reason the Troupe was formed and turned to darkness, and it likely had a very close connection to the massacre of the Kurta Clan.
Thinking of this, Ian retracted his gaze and looked at Chrollo, hesitation showing on his face.
Seemingly sensing his doubt, Chrollo asked in a calm tone, “Do you have something to ask, Ian?” After a brief moment of thought, Ian suppressed his questions about Sarasa.
Based on the current timeline, Sarasa had likely passed away long ago.
Even with his 4D Pocket, he was powerless to resurrect anyone until he drew a sufficiently powerful magical gadget.
There was no need to make promises now; that would only give them premature hope…
So Ian shifted his tone, glancing around the area before smiling.
“For these children, you’ve given them shelter…” “I’m afraid this is also the reason you’re unwilling to leave Meteor City.” As if Ian had struck a chord with his thoughts, Chrollo fell silent.
Inside the church, Pakunoda, standing to the side, took a deep look at Ian before speaking up.
“We have nothing, so we don’t want to lose anything else.” As she spoke, she stepped forward and looked at the children, a hint of softness in her eyes as she murmured.
“Them included.” “If possible, we really do want to stay by their side…” “Unfortunately…
without enough strength, we can’t protect this peace…” Hearing her words, Ian sighed.
He glanced at Machi, who was slightly dazed nearby, gently shook his head, and spoke to Pakunoda in a mild tone.
“Trying to protect a slice of peace in a place like Meteor City…
that’s really tough on you all…” “Before we officially leave, perhaps I can leave them a gift.” Pakunoda looked confused, seemingly wanting to know what Ian meant by a gift.
Ian raised a hand and gently rubbed his chin.
Then, as if struck by a brilliant idea, his eyes lit up, and a smile curved his lips.
“How about we restore this church!” Hearing Ian’s words, everyone present was slightly stunned.
Only Machi seemed to realize something, her eyes lighting up as well.
“Restoring…
a church.
A project of that scale isn’t something that can be finished overnight.” Even the usually taciturn Franklin couldn’t help but scratch his head and speak up.
Chrollo also looked at Ian, full of doubt.
Even though they were Nen users, possessing strength and endurance far beyond ordinary people, it was exactly as Franklin said.
Restoring a church was no small project.
To complete it, they would need clear blueprints, construction experience, materials, and manpower.
Even with all that, it would be impossible without enough time.
In Chrollo’s view, Ian’s plan was clearly to leave Meteor City as soon as possible.
Had he changed his mind?
Ian paid no mind to what everyone was thinking.
He simply wanted to leave a small, beautiful dream for these Meteor City orphans sheltered by Chrollo and the others.
Living in this world was not easy, and surviving on the lands of Meteor City was even harder.
The starting point of these children’s lives was incredibly low.
Ian had no desire to become a religious missionary, but if religion could encourage these little ones to be good and give them the courage to survive, he didn’t mind expending a little effort.
He decided to act immediately!
With a mere thought from Ian.
The next moment, he pulled out a pink gadget that looked like a video camera.
Seeing his action, everyone present was highly surprised.
Uvogin and Nobunaga finally realized what was happening, wide grins spreading across their faces.
“That’s Ian for you!
If he pulls out that gadget, he can definitely rebuild a church in no time!” “Of course!
Ian himself said he could instantly build even a palace.
I can’t wait to see the results…” Ian placed the Scenery Maker in front of his eyes, recalling the awe-inspiring St.
Peter’s Basilica from his past life, a church that gathered the pinnacle of Renaissance art.
Following his imagination, the interior of the dark, dilapidated, and crude church around them began to transform.
It was as if the architecture itself was ascending, a magnificent symphony echoing from within a colossal deity.
Under everyone’s dumbfounded gazes.
A grand dome covered the ceiling, towering pillars rose, and countless intricate, beautiful sculptures and paintings emerged from ripples in the air, settling onto the stone walls.
In just an instant, the entire interior of the church was completely renewed.
It was resplendent and magnificent, bathed in dim, mysterious light, with marble steps leading high up.
On the left and right stood majestic angel sculptures, guarding a blurry figure on a cross at the center of the basilica—a figure enduring suffering, yet whose face could not be clearly seen.
“God…
Oh, God…” Outside, the group of children watching the church’s interior slumped to the ground.
Their eyes were wide as saucers, terrified of missing even a single detail of the scene.
This awe-inspiring scene would be firmly engraved in their hearts for the rest of their lives.