Chapter 109: Elder Ryan
Ronin's nose twitched. The villa smelled faintly of blood—a scent that no amount of expensive incense could fully mask.
There were two possibilities for a smell that persistent.
The first was that a massacre had occurred very recently.
The second was that blood had been spilled here so regularly and in such high volumes that it had permanently seeped into the foundations.
Ronin's instincts leaned toward the latter.
The mansion was eerily silent. Not a single servant or guard was in sight. The butler led them into a cavernous banquet hall.
The room was decorated with "art pieces"—human faces frozen in twisted expressions of agony. At the center was a long, obsidian table.
Seated at the head of the table was an elderly man.
He possessed the dignified, elegant air of an old-world aristocrat, but his skin was unnaturally pale. Combined with his flowing silver hair, he radiated a bone-chilling coldness.
As Ronin's group entered, the old man's sharp eyes swept over them with a predatory, condescending gaze.
It was the look of a Count looking down at his serfs.
The "honored guest" pretense the butler had used was nowhere to be found. The table was empty—no food, no wine. This wasn't a banquet; it was an execution chamber.
"Outsider," Ryan spoke, his voice high and thin. "Did killing Spence make you arrogant? Did it make you think you were a king?"
He had expected it to be a challenge to lure these intruders into his lair. He hadn't expected them to walk in so willingly.
Spence's weakness had clearly given them a false sense of security. Ryan, however, was not Spence.
"Is your trump card those people hiding behind the walls?" Ronin asked, his gaze scanning the perimeter.
Through his En, he sensed presence after presence manifesting outside the hall the moment they entered.
Twenty. Thirty. Forty... the number was climbing.
Every single one was a Nen user.
The sheer count was terrifying, but Ronin noticed a pattern in their auras. Every signature felt remarkably similar, and all were tethered by a thread of intent to the man at the head of the table.
He analyzed the possibilities:
Manipulation. Like Illumi Zoldyck, Ryan was using a medium to control a small army of Nen users.
Symbiotic/Collaborative Nen. A group-link ability where multiple users shared power. This was a nightmare category; he recalled the Ninth Prince of Kakin, whose guardian beast allowed for high-tier group abilities.
Conjured Clones. If these were all fakes created by Ryan, the threat was minimal.
Ronin discounted the third option immediately. The density of the aura was too high. As for the first and second? He sensed two distinct "flavors" of aura on each target: the victim's own aura and a dark, red undercurrent belonging to Ryan.
Manipulation through blood, Ronin deduced.
His hands were already hidden in his sleeves, ready to weave a seal and teleport the team away if things got out of hand.
Ryan gave his answer.
Heavy steel shutters slammed down over the windows and doors, sealing the hall. It was the same trap he had used to eliminate the other Elders' reinforcements.
A hiss followed as sedative gas began to billow from vents in the floor.
The butler immediately lunged to the side, trying to distance himself from Ronin as the gas clouded the room.
He didn't make it two steps.
A chain lashed out, wrapping tightly around the butler's chest and arms. Kurapika had moved instantly.
As the butler was neutralized, Shizuku summoned Blinky.
"Inhale the toxins. All of it," she said in her clinical, monotone voice.
She clicked the switch. A violent suction force erupted. The sedative gas, which should have ended the fight before it began, was sucked into Blinky's mouth as if it were a vacuum-sealed bag.
Ryan, who had already donned a specialized gas mask, wasn't surprised.
The gas was just a filter—a way to thin the herd. Failing that, it forced the enemies to reveal their abilities and burn stamina early.
Besides, two of the intruders were already wearing masks. He hadn't expected the gas to work on them anyway.
Ronin's gaze shifted to the main entrance. His En felt a surge of movement.
The shutters at the door began to rise, revealing the only way out—and the nightmare waiting there.
Ronin glanced at the door, then turned his full attention back to Ryan.
"Is this all you have?"
Ronin's figure blurred. He didn't even need Lightning Style Chakra Mode. His base speed as a peak-tier Enhancer was already too fast for the human eye to track.
Ryan's pupils contracted.
He ripped his mask off. His mouth bulged as if he were about to vomit, and he spat a massive glob of blood directly at the space where Ronin had been a millisecond before.
In mid-air, the blood underwent a horrific transformation. Each drop expanded into a pulsing, fist-sized tumor made of living gore.
The attack was as repulsive as it was unpredictable.
Ronin didn't flinch. He molded Chakra in his lungs and throat, wove a quick seal, and exhaled.
Fire Style: Fireball Jutsu.
The scorching inferno engulfed the blood tumors. Those that weren't instantly incinerated were blasted back toward their source.
Ryan's expression shifted. He dove to the side, barely avoiding the wall of fire.
But as he moved, Ronin appeared beside him. His fist was coiled at his waist, gathering aura in the stance of the Big Bang Impact.
The Fireball was the perfect distraction.
BOOM!
Ronin's fist connected with a massive, pulsing vein that had suddenly erupted from the floor to shield Ryan.
The vein shattered, spraying a fountain of dark blood. Ronin backflipped away, putting distance between himself and the old man.
He stared at the spot where Ryan had been.
In place of the silver-haired aristocrat, a colossal, slime-like entity made of dark, swirling blood now loomed in the center of the hall!
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