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Chapter 84: Amaterasu
The retreating Phantom Troupe members quickly regrouped.
In their midst was Bonolenov, still engulfed in black flames!
At first, Bonolenov hadn't taken the Amaterasu seriously. He paid for that mistake dearly.
The black fire burned everything. And it could not be extinguished.
Water didn't work.
Using Nen to block it only gave the fire more fuel to burn.
Bonolenov, in agony, realized there was only one way to survive: instantaneously strip away every piece of conjured equipment on his body. That might separate the black flames from him.
If he simply dispelled the equipment, the flames attached to it would fall directly onto his skin.
And that would be a death sentence.
Only one person could do this: Machi.
And she had to be fast.
Bonolenov felt like a potato wrapped in foil, baking alive inside his own armor. Every second was torture.
Machi tested it first—confirming that the black flames wouldn't travel up her Nen threads—before acting.
Dozens of threads shot out, wrapping around Bonolenov's armor.
With a sharp rip, Machi yanked with all her strength. The equipment was torn violently from his body.
But along with the armor came Bonolenov's skin!
Under the intense heat, the armor had fused with his flesh. Despite his Nen protection, he couldn't stop the adhesion.
Now, stripped of his gear, he was a skinless, bloody figure of pure horror.
Bonolenov sucked in a breath of cold air, his eyes rolling back as he fainted—only to snap awake a second later screaming. It hurt! It hurt too much!
Even the Troupe, hardened by years of violence, found it hard to look at him.
But there was nothing they could do. Even Chrollo didn't have a healing ability in his book.
"I'll kill him! I will definitely kill him!" Bonolenov howled, his hatred for Ronin seeping into his very marrow.
Chrollo ignored the screams, his eyes fixed on the pile of discarded armor burning nearby.
Without Bonolenov's Nen to sustain it, the equipment burned to ash. Only when nothing remained did the black flames finally fade.
"Let's move. Our opponent used his own identity as bait. We lost this round," Chrollo said calmly. "Also, the three pairs of Scarlet Eyes in Yorknew have likely already fallen into his hands."
He signaled Machi to carry Bonolenov.
Only Machi could do it; anyone else touching his raw flesh would likely cause him to pass out from the pain again.
Shalnark had been looking for a way to restore Uvogin's arm... it seemed that method would now need to be used on Bonolenov instead.
As for Isrli...
Chrollo had done his best. Since they failed to kill the employer in time, Isrli's death was the expected outcome.
Damn Zoldycks.
He would have to prepare a countermeasure for them next time.
Furthermore, Ronin's strength had exceeded Chrollo's calculations yet again.
The situation didn't add up. There was only one explanation: they were a step too slow.
The enemy had killed one of the Ten Dons, replaced him, and used that influence to set this trap. The benefits of such a move were immense.
To find a Don, kill him, and replace him without being detected required both audacity and meticulous planning.
Kurapika... Chrollo now knew the enemy's name and identity.
A survivor of the Kurta Clan who wasn't in the village on the night of the massacre.
He had exposed his location intentionally, having prepared everything in advance.
The corpse in front of the hotel was never Kurapika.
When that "body" appeared, the real Kurapika was in Room 1801. And beside him were the mercenaries, ready to extract him at a moment's notice.
The Rock Mercenary Group.
The same group that had blocked the Troupe's pursuit of Ronin at Heaven's Arena.
Chrollo didn't understand Kurapika's motive. Was it a provocation? Or did he just want to ask why the Kurta were massacred?
Naïve.
Recalling Kurapika's expression from their brief encounter, Chrollo labeled him.
Thieves didn't need reasons. The massacre happened simply because the Kurta Clan offered enough value to the Troupe.
The only regret was that the job wasn't clean.
Two little mice had escaped. And those mice had found a way to grow strong enough to threaten the spiders.
Chrollo had to admit, Ronin had grown into a massive threat.
He had to be eliminated. Immediately.
...
When Ronin found Neon, she was accompanied by a woman he had never seen before.
The woman had wine-red hair and phoenix eyes that slanted upward. Her lips were painted a fiery red. She wore a black camisole with a black jacket slipping off her shoulder, radiating pure pheromones.
She wore black sweatpants that accentuated her long legs. Every movement exuded mature charm.
"Let's go. Kurapika has prepared a new room for us at the Cemetery Building. We're meeting there," Neon said. "By the way, this is Delilah. She's the one who made the fake Kurapika corpse."
"Hello. Don't blame me, I just did it for the money," Delilah said, waving her hand. She had no idea what Kurapika's plan actually entailed.
But she had seen the massive flood erupt from the Yadan Hotel.
And the one who caused it was apparently this handsome young man in front of her.
Delilah had zero desire to provoke a monster like that.
"Understood," Ronin nodded.
He had seen Kurapika and Muhuell on the roof earlier. With Muhuell protecting him, Kurapika was safe.
Now that Neon was also guarded, it proved everything was within Kurapika's calculations.
"Are you with the mercenaries too?" Ronin asked.
"No, I'm a Doll Hunter. A friend of Milia's. She asked me to help out," Delilah explained. Her vibe was completely different from Milia's icy demeanor.
Neon grabbed Ronin's arm. "Come on, this isn't a good place to chat."
"My job is done. See you at Heaven's Arena next time!" Delilah waved and didn't follow them.
Ten minutes later, Ronin and Neon arrived at the Cemetery Building.
Kurapika was waiting for them. Entering the top-floor room, Ronin noticed the mercenaries were gone.
They must have left immediately after the mission. Efficient.
Ronin looked at Kurapika with a complicated expression. "I have to admit, your plan was correct. But the feeling... it wasn't pleasant."
"I'm sorry," Kurapika said, his expression sincere.
Despite the apology, Ronin could see in his eyes that he would make the same choice again if he had to.
Ronin sighed helplessly. He had to admit, the result was good.
"Thank you."
"Hm?"
"Thank you for being alive, Kurapika," Ronin said, his eyes shifting into the Mangekyou pattern.
The corners of Kurapika's mouth lifted slightly. "Thank you too, Big Brother Ronin!"
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