With a mighty shake, Tyranitar extinguished the lingering flames on its body as if they had never existed.
Only the dark ashes at its feet bore witness to what had just transpired.
Glancing at the slightly dented armor, Tyranitar's irritation grew, its claws instinctively clenching tighter.
Slowly raising its head, the surrounding sand began to stir without wind, drifting inexplicably into flowing shapes.
Dust storms swirled around Tyranitar.
Amid the dim haze of the sandstorm, a pair of blood-red eyes gleamed unmistakably.
It felt as though they could pierce through distance itself, seeing straight into Don's soul.
Don's lips twitched, his hair standing on end.
Even in his restored state, being stared down by this colossal beast made his body tense with instinctive wariness.
It was like an ordinary person encountering a wild predator—except this sense of danger was far more intense.
He was facing a Tyranitar in a state of towering rage!
Don gradually straightened his posture, standing at his full height of nearly three meters, his body enveloped in a dense layer of Aura.
To observe him with just [Gyo] would be like staring directly into a blinding light, causing eye pain and tears.
In the strictest sense, this was Don's true form
.After multiple evolutions through his Nen Ability, Don's soul had already transcended the limits of humanity.
This allowed his physical body to ascend to a level that was never originally his—a body that could be called perfect.
Merely looking at him, even without fully discerning his form, one could sense the immense energy contained within his frame.
His physique was extraordinarily refined, every visible muscle the result of relentless tempering.
Had he not been affected by [Taunt], he could have restored himself to an even more exaggerated state, likely with an even more massive build.
Perhaps it was psychological, or perhaps due to the changes in Don's soul, but he gave Akira an ethereal impression.
Now, in appearance, Don was undoubtedly an incredibly robust, overwhelmingly powerful being—a veritable miniature giant.
Paired with his face and his jet-black hair standing upright from the airflow, Don bore some resemblance to a darkened Gon.
But Don was far stronger than a darkened Gon—the two were incomparable.
No one would believe that this man, capable of casually shattering a mountain with a single punch, was the same frail, elderly man from moments ago.
It wasn't that he wanted to play weak to deceive others deliberately.
Rather, due to special circumstances, he was usually forced to maintain that withered form.
Only under certain conditions would he revert to his true appearance—the one he bore now.
[Well… it's about time to test this out!]
A smirk curled Don's lips as he savored this long-lost state, the vast energy within him a sublime sensation.
One could also call it [the joy of strength].
For those who pursued power, experiencing their own might was a form of enjoyment.
Don was no exception.
Because he was forced to maintain that weakened state, unable to remain like this at all times.
So whenever he got serious, he made sure to fully appreciate his true strength.
Though the process had been interrupted, he was confident this level of power was more than enough to conclude this spar.
Don sighed lightly.
"Tch, being pushed around like this just won't do~"
The weighty sigh drew everyone's attention back—only his voice still carried the tone of an old man.
With a slight wave of his hand, the aura radiating from his body abruptly dissipated, vanishing without a trace.
Running a hand through his hair, Don wore a pensive expression as he muttered to himself:
"I think that move was called…"
"Mind's Eye, Fist's Heart, right?"
Don strode leisurely toward Tyranitar, his arms hanDon naturally at his sides as they slowly began to move.
Though he walked upon fine sand, not a single footprint was left behind.
It was as though he tread upon empty air, leaving no impact on the world around him.
Hidden within the sandstorm, Tyranitar stared intently at Don—yet in its eyes, Don's figure was growing indistinct.
No, "indistinct" wasn't quite right.
He was clearly there, step by step approaching, yet his form remained impossible to discern clearly.
As if obscured by a thick layer of static, anyone who looked could only make out a vague human silhouette.
Beyond that, no defining features were visible.
At the same time, Tyranitar sensed that while Don was indeed moving forward step by step, its body failed to register the motion—or rather, the signals were arriving with extreme delay.
In its eyes, Don had already moved several seconds ago, yet its hands had barely shifted an inch.
This was the illusion Don had created for Tyranitar.
An illusion born of sheer speed.
In reality, this series of movements occurred in the blink of an eye—far from the several seconds Tyranitar perceived.
This was a technique Don had employed countless times, one so ingrained it had become instinct—Heart's Whisper Fist!
Through a lifetime of rigorous training, Don's movements were refined to perfection, devoid of any excess, streamlined to their absolute limit.
Countless repetitions of his punches had granted him speed beyond ordinary comprehension.
Only through such relentless cultivation had he mastered the technique known as [Heart's Whisper Fist].
Its effects were nothing short of extraordinary.
The sight it created was almost unbelievable—simultaneously fast and slow, as if defying reality itself.
Naturally, Don was no exception.
His [Heart's Whisper Fist] surpassed even that of Netero.
Because this was a skill honed through countless brushes with death, forged in the crucible of life-and-death struggles.
Combined with his personal traits, this resulted in the enhanced version of [Heart's Whisper Fist] that Tyranitar now witnessed.
Don advanced step by step, and upon reaching a certain threshold, his entire body vanished abruptly.
At the same time, Tyranitar felt its breathing ease, the strange sensation dissipating along with Don's disappearance.
But there was no time to rest. The enemy's vanishing only meant greater trouble lay ahead.
In the next instant, Don reappeared abruptly at Tyranitar's right side, his expression calm.
To him, this seemed as routine as any ordinary day.
A fist enveloped in immense Aura pressed toward Tyranitar's head, swirling with alternating black and white light.
At a glance, it resembled the pattern of a Taiji symbol.
Tyranitar's pupils contracted as it channeled Aura within its body, conjuring a thin, emerald-green barrier around itself in the blink of an eye.
"Boom!!"
Don's full-force punch struck the barrier squarely, leaving only a fist-shaped dent—nothing more.
"How is this possible?"
"It didn't break?" Don was inwardly stunned.
Normal-type move—Protect!
Without hesitation, Don furrowed his brow and retracted his right fist, preparing to strike again.
He refused to believe this barrier could withstand his blows.
In that instant, Tyranitar stomped the ground violently, sending countless grains of sand erupting into a cloud of dust as it roared furiously.
"Roar!!"
Immediately after, both its hands coalesced with dense, dark Aura.
The Flow of Aura swirling around them was even darker than the black mist surrounding Don!
With a combined swing, Tyranitar's claws—harder than steel by countless times—lashed out at Don.
Don's expression shifted slightly, but he showed no fear in the face of this overwhelming assault. His Aura surged skyward!
The eerie black-and-white Aura dyed the surroundings in a ghostly hue as both his fists were clad in thick [Ken].
"Boom!!"
Ghost-type move—Shadow Claw.
Empowered by Dark-type Aura, Tyranitar's claws seemed capable of tearing through anything.
But against Don, Tyranitar encountered its first true stalemate—their attacks canceled each other out once more.
Only the sand beneath their feet suffered repeated devastation.
Simultaneously, Tyranitar's massive, steel-plated maw was also shrouded in dark Aura.
Its already terrifying visage took on a shade of pitch-black, its crimson eyes completing the image of a demon clawing its way out from the depths of hell!
The massive, hardened jaws could crush anything—everything in its sight was something to be shattered.
Dark-type move—Crunch!
Suddenly, stone blades formed around Tyranitar, rapidly rotating counterclockwise around its body.
Rock-type move—Stone Edge!
...
Watching Tyranitar employ multiple abilities, Don's eyelids twitched, though his mental resilience had grown considerably stronger.
At least he wasn't as shocked as he had been initially.
Seizing the moment, Don burned a large amount of Aura within his body and delivered a powerful strike, sending Tyranitar flying backward!
Immediately after, Don swiftly retreated, leaping dozens of meters away in an instant.
His eyes locked onto the distant Tyranitar, Don reached into the pocket of his black robe.
The robe, made of some unknown material, remained perfectly intact even as Don returned to his normal size, still fitting him snugly.
There were no signs of tearing or damage—it was as if the robe had expanded along with his body.
The robe's pocket wasn't large, but it was deep, containing a bizarre-looking insect inside.
The insect's surface was golden, its texture resembling actual gold, with a design leaning toward that of a beetle.
Its abdomen bore a large, eerie pattern that didn't seem naturally grown but rather artificially drawn.
Overall, this unnamed insect had an exquisite appearance, almost like a work of art.
The only flaw was a short, needle-like proboscis protruding from its mouth, slightly marring its beauty.
Generally, creatures with such mouthparts engaged in blood-sucking or other fluid-extracting behaviors.
This insect was no exception.
With practiced ease, Don extended his index finger in front of the insect, which promptly bit down on it.
To ensure the insect could pierce his skin, Don deliberately weakened the flesh on that part of his finger.
Compared to the rest, that spot was now far more fragile and easily broken.
Thus, the insect's proboscis smoothly penetrated the skin, drawing out a thread of dark crimson blood.
Almost immediately, the insect's golden hue began to shift, much like a chameleon.
Soon, it transformed from gold to a deep blood-red, nearly identical to the color of Don's blood.
At the same time, its color began reverting to its original golden shade at a visible pace.
Knowing he couldn't afford to delay, Don quickly moved his hand closer as the beetle's body split cleanly down the middle.
Strangely, what lay inside wasn't a mess of repulsive organs but a void.
Faint, eerie light shimmered within, and staring too long gave the illusion of one's soul being sucked in.
Without hesitation, Don plunged his hand into this void, and with a thought, an object materialized in his grasp.
Wasting no time, he withdrew his hand as soon as he retrieved the item.
Before long, the beetle's color fully reverted to its original, "ornate" golden shade.
Simultaneously, its split body snapped shut in an instant.
Don knew all too well the danger of that closing—he wouldn't dare test it with his own hand.
This wasn't just a simple closing motion—it involved spatial manipulation, akin to a spatial gateway slamming shut.
No matter how strong his body was, if his hand hadn't been pulled out in time, it would have been severed cleanly.
The severed part would have been lost in that otherworldly space.It could be said that this bizarre insect was his spatial Nen tool, usually used to store important items.
Don ignored the insect and took out the object in his hand.
It was a pouch-like item, more resembling a spatial Nen tool than the insect.
Yet that wasn't the case.
Gritting his teeth against the heart-rending, bone-gnawing pain, Don reached into the cloth bag as a portion of the black mist surrounding his body separated and flowed into it.
As if possessing self-awareness, it was driven inside by Don.
Once completed, the bag's opening sealed shut, and a trickle of dark blood spilled from the corner of Don's lips.
[I really did push myself too hard, didn't I?] Don's eyes were shadowed with gloom as he sighed inwardly.
At this moment, Don was also quite helpless. He had finally gotten a chance to enjoy a satisfying spar.
But his body failed him, forcing him to deal with this mid-battle.
Meanwhile, Tyranitar was advancing step by step, only to be halted by Akira, who had been watching closely.
Akira's gaze swept past Tyranitar and settled on Don, whose condition seemed poor, leaving him somewhat surprised.
Especially by the blood at the corner of Don's lips.
Was Don injured?
Akira recalled the previous exchanges—both sides had traded blows, but neither had inflicted any substantial damage on the other.
It didn't seem like Tyranitar had caused this.
Considering the information displayed by his Pokédex ability, he guessed it might be a flare-up of Don's long-suppressed illness.
That was it.
Don was, in fact, seriously ill.
Or rather, "illness" wasn't even the right word—a more accurate description was that he was plagued by countless [Calamities]!
The black mist perpetually shrouding his body was one manifestation of these [Calamities].