Chapter 110: Hard Counter
It was a Nen beast.
As the creature manifested, sounds of heavy combat erupted from the entrance. Ronin's peripheral vision caught a wave of grotesque, mutated figures swarming into the hall.
Seeing these newcomers, Ronin confirmed his first hypothesis: Ryan was a Manipulator.
His puppets were Nen users under his direct control, bound to his will through those pulsing, parasitic blood tumors.
As for the blood beast itself?
Ronin stared into the churning, crimson interior of the massive slime and felt a wave of nausea. The stench was thick enough to taste. The beast wasn't just made of aura; it was a pressurized slurry of blood and liquified corpses, some of which were still visibly digesting.
Ryan remained crouched behind his gargantuan shield.
His face was grim. If the slime hadn't intercepted Ronin's punch, he would be a smear on the wall right now. As the shockwave hit, he had glimpsed his long-dead grandmother beckoning him from the light.
He stared at Ronin with undisguised caution, his eyes darting to Ronin's throat.
The intel he'd received was incomplete. It described a boy with abnormal strength who could bend tank barrels like pipe cleaners. It hadn't mentioned fire.
Normally, someone who reached that level of physical dominance wouldn't bother with elemental manipulation—it was a waste of Nen efficiency.
Now, he realized he was facing a true prodigy.
If I can turn him into a Blood Warrior... he will be my masterpiece.
Ronin didn't care about Ryan's ambitions. He was thinking of Kurapika's plan: to establish a foothold in Meteor City.
They didn't need to rule the city, but they needed a "nail"—a proxy organization that would keep the Phantom Troupe under constant surveillance and provide fresh intel.
Spence was useless; Ronin had slaughtered his entire family line.
Theodore was too extreme; he was a fanatic with no money and a disposable following.
But Ryan was different.
He had the look of an aristocrat, a history of "charity" that built public loyalty, a professional butler, and a villa that was still structurally sound.
If they replaced Ryan, bought off the butler, and maintained the "charity" facade, this district would keep running like clockwork.
They had no interest in mass murder, but they had plenty of interest in cultivating an army of loyal "nails."
In his mind, Ronin even envisioned building an underground "Infinity Castle" here one day. But that was a distant dream, likely years away.
I wonder if this world's version of the 'Thunder King' or the 'Evil Eye' will show up then... (Note: Reference to GetBackers or general anime tropes).
Ronin's eyes shifted into the Mangekyō state. Against a mass of liquid gore, there was only one solution.
"Amaterasu!"
He finally said it. The word he'd been waiting to shout since he first awakened his eyes.
Pitch-black flames erupted across the surface of the blood slime.
The creature thrashed violently. The hall was filled with the hiss of boiling blood and the scream of evaporating flesh.
At the entrance, the defensive line was buckling.
Kurapika, Shizuku, and Neon were being swarmed by the Blood Warriors. The sheer numbers were allowing the puppets to squeeze past the team and charge toward Ryan to reinforce their master.
"Maybe we can negotiate?" Ryan shouted, his voice cracking.
His thrashing beast couldn't extinguish the black fire with its mass. As the slime shrunk, consumed by the inextinguishable flames, panic finally seeped into Ryan's cold heart.
It wasn't a matter of strength. It was a matter of a perfect counter.
"Negotiate what?" Ronin asked, his hands forming a cross seal.
Poof.
A Shadow Clone appeared beside him.
The main body took an aggressive step toward Ryan, while the clone turned to face the incoming tide of Blood Warriors.
Fire Style: Phoenix Flower Jutsu.
A volley of flaming petals erupted from the clone's mouth, weaving through the air to strike the puppets.
The Blood Warriors had a glaring weakness: the tumorous "second head" growing from their bodies. But the Phoenix Flower wasn't about precision; it was about saturation.
Ronin had no interest in saving these people. If he needed a workforce, he'd just use Reanimation (Edo Tensei). Undead laborers were superior—they worked 24/7, didn't eat, didn't drink, and didn't ask for a paycheck.
The only downside was the human sacrifice required for the ritual, but in Meteor City, that was practically a rounding error.
The fire rolled over the warriors.
They weren't weaklings. Some possessed high enough aura to dodge the fireballs or tank them with pure physical reinforcement, allowing them to reach the clone's position.
But they were met by a clone whose hands were wreathed in blue Chakra, shaped into razor-sharp scalpels.
Chakra Scalpel.
Ryan watched, paralyzed.
The blood slime was gone—incinerated into nothing by the Amaterasu, which only dissipated once the last drop of target matter was ash.
Not a single Blood Warrior could get past the clone. The gap in skill was insurmountable.
A massive needle materialized in Ryan's hand. This was his final gamble.
Ronin scrutinized the weapon. He now understood Ryan's build perfectly.
Main: Manipulation.
Sub-categories: Conjuration and Emission.
It was a textbook "Yamayama" (mountain-style) training regimen. His offense was his army of blood-puppets (Manipulation/Emission), and his defense was the slime shield (Conjuration).
The only flaw was that his puppets relied on raw Enhancement to fight, losing their original Hatsu in the process. They were strong, but mindless. This was why they couldn't breach a line held by a ninja master of Taijutsu.
In close-quarters combat, Ronin was the apex predator.
He had to admit, Ryan wasn't weak. Against a normal hunter, that slime would have been a nightmare to penetrate.
But Ryan was facing a Mangekyō Sharingan user.
And for a man whose power was built on liquid and flesh, the black flames were his absolute apocalypse.
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