"Young Master Illumi!"
"Focus!"
A flash of silver split the air, slicing the bullet aimed at Gotoh cleanly in half at the tip.
The shell clattered to the ground. Roy held the cane sword, spinning it once in his hand. Without pause, he thrust forward again—straight at the woman's face.
Gotoh, who'd gotten distracted at the worst possible moment by Illumi's appearance, silently cursed his stupidity—actually needing the young master to save him. Furious, he pulled a handful of coins from his pocket. Thumb flicking against forefinger, he fired rapidly. Coins wrapped in Nen aura shot out like bullets.
In less than two seconds, the entire cabin was riddled with holes!
The terrorists disguised as passengers fell. Only the girl remained, tilting her head to dodge the steel fork Illumi threw.
"That's my prey." The strike missed. Illumi kicked open the door and entered, brushing past Gotoh's shoulder. Brandishing his hand blade, he stabbed viciously toward the girl's chest.
Too slow. The girl had distance and firepower on her side.
"Watch me turn you into Swiss cheese!" The girl's left hand produced another gun, unleashing hell at Illumi.
Bullets poured out. Under the relentless barrage, Illumi had no chance to close the distance. The young man had to abort mid-strike, flipping to crouch behind the overturned table for cover.
This was his "you can't do without me"?
"If only your ability matched your arrogance." The thrust Roy had practiced thirty thousand times struck like lightning into the woman's forehead. His form blurred at speeds far exceeding Illumi's, killing the Clown's manipulated body!
"So fast!" The Clown didn't even have time to reactivate his Nen ability, instead manipulating dozens of children to surround him. "Roy Zoldyck, we have no intention of being your enemy. You showed up and disrupted our plan. Leave now, or I'll slaughter them all!"
The Clown's "possession" came in two types: "deep," which destroyed consciousness, and "shallow," which temporarily occupied without harming the body. The Zoldycks had a solid reputation worldwide—they rarely harmed innocents beyond their targets.
The Clown had bet everything on exploiting this principle, using ordinary people as shields.
But he'd have to actually block the blade first!
Coating his eyes with a layer of aura, Roy saw clearly—these children had all eaten candy, manipulated like puppets by Nen threads guiding their movements. Tracing back, the source of the Nen threads was on the upper deck of the airship!
"Sun Breathing, First Form: Dance!" Cane sword in hand, friction ignited the air. Circular fire rings scorched through space, burning those Nen threads to nothing. Roy swung his arm in a circle without looking back, charging in a burst of speed, gripping the cane sword, and rushing from the cabin straight toward the deck.
Leaving only Gotoh rapidly firing coins to block the girl's bullet storm, providing cover.
Illumi hid behind the table watching this scene, suddenly feeling somewhat lost. What about him? What could he do? It seemed there was no need for his presence here.
"Bang bang bang..." Bullets versus coins, Conjuration versus Emission.
"Young Master Illumi, if it's too much, you could go to the cockpit to protect the captain."
Gotoh's words drifted over. Illumi froze for two seconds, about to refuse. Looking again, he saw Grandfather Zeno walking in with hands behind his back. "No need. Someone's already guarding the cockpit."
Having burned through one-tenth of his Nen aura, Zeno had finally arrived riding Tsubone at full speed. The captain was left to Tsubone to prevent the airship from crashing. He'd cleared out the small fries and come up alone.
Illumi: "..."
Frozen like a statue.
Zeno brushed past his shoulder, even asking with heartbreaking casualness, "Where's Roy?"
Raising his hand, he fired a Nen bullet, hitting the girl and exploding her head into red mist.
The girl crashed heavily to the floor, blood bursting everywhere. Gotoh breathed a sigh of relief, pointing at the deck. The two left the cabin one after another, leaving the young man alone in the ruins, unable to recover for a long time.
After a moment, finding a clean corner, he hugged his knees against the wall, melding into the shadows.
In the not-too-distant future, a certain fruit farmer once commented: "Enhancers" are simple-minded and physically strong. "Transmuters" are fickle and full of lies. "Emitters" are hot-tempered and careless. "Manipulators" are self-centered and love reasoning.
So as a Manipulator, after Brandon realized his side was losing, he attempted to use "reason" to convince Roy. Unfortunately, his opponent's blade was too fast and sharp, giving him no chance to negotiate. Then all that remained was battle!
Propellers shredded air, stirring up fierce winds. On the airship's upper deck, Brandon stood ready. Watching Roy approach unhurriedly holding his cane sword, he abandoned manipulation, withdrawing all Nen residing in other manipulated bodies. Thumb flicking forefinger, he shot a Nen bullet.
Manipulators neighbor Emission and Specialist systems. With special training, he could display eighty percent of an Emitter's power. This Nen bullet was fast and sharp, flying toward Roy's heart.
A crisp clang. The Nen bullet split in two against Roy's cane sword wrapped in Nen aura. Then one shot, two shots, three shots—clang, clang, clang, clang. The blade moved fluidly.
Brandon's Nen bullets grew weaker as his reserves depleted. Roy, relying on swordsmanship, moved with ease, drawing closer and closer. At one moment, he stopped.
Brandon followed suit, his expression hardening.
"Within three meters, your blade is deadly. What—at the critical moment, have the noble Zoldycks finally decided to spare my life?" Brandon tore open his collar, exposing his chest, roaring. "Come! Stab here!"
Not like a Manipulator's self-centeredness, but rather an Emitter's hot temper.
"Too hairy. Afraid of dirtying my blade." Brandon's chest hair was too dense—a thick, dark forest.
Roy leaned on his cane sword, stating simply, "I know what you're thinking. Take my blade with a serious injury, then use it as a medium to possess me, right?"
"So what if it is?" Brandon showed no shame at having his plan exposed, staring fixedly at Roy. "If you don't dare come closer, I'll leave. Three meters is the boundary—this is the rule I've set!"
Brandon spoke while slowly retreating. Little did he know, a flying slash flashed past. Looking down, he watched his own head separate from his shoulders, just in time to see a fountain of blood erupt from his neck!
"Sorry, forgot to tell you—my blade reaches farther than three meters."