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Chapter 83: Ama-no-Tokotachi
Silva's hands glowed with a massive concentration of Nen as he plummeted straight toward where Isrli had washed up.
Isrli sensed the impending doom.
He held a pair of revolvers. His Nen-coated guns hadn't jammed despite the submersion.
He pulled the triggers repeatedly. Bang! Bang! Bang! He emptied the cylinders toward the falling threat.
But the moment the bullets left the barrels, a massive dragon head made of Nen tore through the air, swallowing every projectile in a single bite.
The bullets exploded inside the dragon, but they failed to tear apart the construct.
Isrli's internal alarms screamed. If that dragon had targeted him instead of the bullets, he would have been bitten in half instantly!
Isrli tried to move, to dodge, to do anything. But his body wouldn't obey.
It wasn't fear. The space around him had turned viscous, solid. It was as if he had been frozen in amber. He couldn't even twitch his little finger.
Silva landed.
In Isrli's field of vision, he saw Silva, and nearby, Zeno Zoldyck, holding a pose as he manipulated the dragon.
The dragon head, having absorbed the explosions, turned its gaze toward Isrli. It seemed ready to swallow him too if Silva failed.
But none of that was the source of Isrli's true despair.
His despair came from the realization that his sensation was real.
Space had been locked.
And the one responsible was the young man standing nearby, staring at him—Ronin.
Ama-no-Tokotachi.
This was the name of Ronin's left eye ability. Its power: to freeze space anywhere within his line of sight!
Isrli couldn't pull the trigger because Ronin had cast Ama-no-Tokotachi on the space he occupied.
However, the range seemed a bit too large. Ronin felt a warm trickle of blood from the corner of his eye.
He wasn't sure if the bleeding was caused by the sheer volume of space he had frozen, or because the falling Silva had momentarily entered the frozen zone, suspending him in mid-air for a fraction of a second.
Ronin knew that if he released Ama-no-Tokotachi now, Silva's attack would land perfectly.
The falling Silva felt a flicker of disbelief.
He had paused in mid-air, less than half a meter from Isrli. He could feel the Nen in his fists draining rapidly, while his body continued to fall at a snail's pace.
This state lasted less than a second.
Silva pinpointed the source immediately.
Then, the freeze lifted. Silva's momentum returned instantly. His fists, wrapped in immense Nen, smashed into the helpless Isrli.
BOOM!
A thunderous explosion tore a crater into the street. Blood and flesh splattered outward. Only two twisted revolvers and a pair of severed hands flew out of the pit.
Silva didn't bother looking at the meat paste that used to be Isrli. He stood up and turned to look at Ronin.
At that moment, two shadows flickered near the crater.
Nobunaga and Phinks.
The two moved in sync, launching an assault on Silva in the pit. Meanwhile, two other figures flanked Ronin.
Dragon Head Kiga hadn't dissipated yet. Zeno flicked his wrists, and the dragon turned sharply, ramming into Nobunaga and Phinks with increased speed.
Nobunaga's katana slashed into the dragon, cutting deep, but it couldn't sever the construct; the Nen simply reconnected as the blade passed.
Nobunaga was knocked flying by the impact.
Phinks' attack reached Silva just as the dragon knocked Nobunaga away. Silva mirrored the move, raising his fist to meet Phinks' strike head-on.
Nen clashed violently. Both men slid back simultaneously, but Silva looked completely at ease.
He had just killed Isrli and immediately countered a charged strike from Phinks to a draw. It was clear his base strength was at least two or three tiers above the Troupe member.
On the other side, the crimson skeletal aura manifested around Ronin once more.
Though only a partial torso, the giant skeletal hand swiped at the smaller attacker, while the ribcage effortlessly blocked a barrage of Nen bullets.
The small attacker was Feitan.
Feitan had seen the power of that skeletal hand from a distance earlier.
He dared not make contact. He retreated rapidly, his speed allowing him to evade the lumbering construct.
But this created distance between him and Ronin.
Franklin, seeing that his Double Machine Gun couldn't scratch the Susanoo, snapped his own wrist, tearing off his left hand to reveal a dark, gaping cannon barrel.
Massive amounts of Nen gathered in the orifice.
Single Arm Cannon.
But before he could fire, a bullet struck him right in the forehead. Sparks flew as Franklin stumbled backward. The charged blast in his arm misfired, launching a volleyball-sized sphere of Nen wildly to the side.
It grazed the Susanoo and slammed into a nearby skyscraper.
BOOM!
A hole several meters wide was blown into the building.
Franklin looked up toward the source of the shot. A sniper rifle was set up in the distance.
Standing behind the shooter was a red-eyed youth.
It was Kurapika and the mercenary, Muhuell!
"Retreat!"
Chrollo's voice echoed from the distance. Something must have happened there to force such a command.
The Troupe members exchanged glances, seeing the reluctance in each other's eyes.
But then, dozens of armed mercenaries flooded the street.
These mercenaries didn't hide their Nen. And in the center of their formation stomped a four-meter-tall metal mech!
The Troupe's hearts sank. They gathered quickly and began a fighting retreat.
Once the mercenaries appeared, they knew the tide had turned.
The mercenaries didn't pursue the fleeing spiders. instead, they rushed to surround and protect Ronin.
Zeno and Silva had no intention of continuing the fight either. Their target was Isrli.
Now that the target was a puddle of sludge, the commission was complete.
Killing outside of the contract wasn't something assassins did. If they wanted more dead spiders, the employer would have to pay extra. Otherwise, Zeno would feel like he was losing money.
And Zeno hated losing money.
Silva, however, lingered for a moment, his gaze resting on Ronin.
Ronin's strength intrigued him—especially the bizarre and versatile nature of his abilities.
He didn't approach. He simply nodded at Ronin—an acknowledgment of the assist with the spatial freeze—and then turned to leave with Zeno.
"Young people these days are truly terrifying," Zeno muttered as they walked away.
His voice wasn't loud, but Ronin's sharp ears caught it. The corner of his mouth twitched upward.
I suppose that counts as praise.
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