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DanMachi: Is It Wrong for a Mafia Boss to Go to the Dungeon?
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Chapter 98: Snake Bite Fist
Ronin watched the fading ripples of the man's Nen with a clinical detachment. While he could use his Sharingan to perfectly replicate the fluid, serpentine mechanics of this Transmutation-leaning ability, it didn't truly resonate with his own combat philosophy. It was too reliant on a specific kind of physical flexibility that felt alien to his current build. Still, a professional never turned down a new tool; he archived the technique in the depths of his mind, another weapon added to his growing arsenal.
With a sharp intake of breath, Ronin's pupils bled into the crimson, jagged geometric patterns of the Mangekyou. The air around him seemed to grow heavy, the temperature in the alley dropping as his presence expanded.
The last time he had unleashed this power against Isrli, the scope of the effect had been a blunt instrument—a wide-area lockdown that drained him unnecessarily. This time, he sought surgical precision. He focused his gaze entirely on the Eagle-Nosed Man, attempting to isolate the effect of [Ama-no-Tokotachi] to a singular point in space.
The power of his left eye erupted with a silent, localized roar. In an instant, the very air surrounding the captain's lunging arm was locked in absolute stasis.
The transition was jarring. No matter how much Nen the man poured into his limb, no matter how much he tried to ripple his muscles to maintain that boneless, whip-like momentum, his arm simply ceased to exist in the flow of time. It was pinned—frozen in mid-air as if encased in a block of invisible, indestructible diamond.
Ronin stepped forward with a predatory grace. He was careful to avoid the localized pocket of frozen space; he knew all too well that if his own body entered that vacuum, he would be subjected to the same inescapable stasis. But he didn't need to touch the frozen air. He only needed to reach the man who was now anchored to it.
The Eagle-Nosed Man was a veteran of Meteor City's brutal streets, but he had never encountered anything like this. He pulled, he twisted, he screamed, but he was tethered to a void. Unless he had the iron resolve to sever his own shoulder like a lizard discarding its tail, he was a stationary target.
"I surrender! Wait—I surrender!" he shrieked, his voice cracking with the sudden realization of his mortality. He didn't want to die for a Council that would replace him by sunset.
But Ronin's momentum was already a finished sentence. By the time the words left the captain's mouth, Ronin's fist had bypassed his desperate, one-handed guard.
If his limbs can become soft as water, let's see how his ribcage handles a solid impact.
The sound of shattering bone was sickeningly crisp. Ronin's fist punched straight through the man's sternum, the force of the strike localized so perfectly that it didn't just break the bone—it pulverized it.
Blood sprayed from the captain's mouth in a hot, metallic mist. He looked down at the arm buried in his chest, his eyes bulging in a mix of confusion and agonizing disbelief. "You... I—"
Gurgle—
The words died in a red froth. His lungs were punctured, and blood flooded his windpipe, drowning his final plea before it could take shape.
Ronin retracted his arm with a wet snap and leaped back, simultaneously deactivating [Ama-no-Tokotachi]. The sudden release of spatial pressure sent the man's body reeling. Without the invisible lock supporting him, the Eagle-Nosed Man's corpse lost all balance. With eyes still wide with a lingering, hateful resentment, he tumbled backward off the top of the tank, hitting the pavement with a dull, final thud.
Ronin didn't spare the body a second glance. His eyes were already fixed on the tank's hatch. As for the man's surrender? He had simply tuned it out. In a world where every second was a currency, the captain had been bankrupt.
He gripped the rim of the heavy steel hatch just as the soldiers on the ground finally snapped out of their shock. They swung their rifles upward, their fingers white on the triggers.
"Kill him! Kill the monster!" someone screamed.
It was too late. With a guttural burst of raw strength, Ronin tore the reinforced hatch clean off its hinges like it was made of wet parchment. As the first volley of gunfire erupted, he hurled the massive metal plate at the nearest group of shooters and dove into the tank's narrow interior.
Bullets sparked and whined against the tank's hull, the thick steel plating ringing like a bell under the frantic assault. Inside the cramped, oil-scented cabin, the crew scrambled for their sidearms, but Ronin moved like a shadow. He merely flicked his wrist, using the narrow confines to his advantage. The bullets fired at him within the cabin were reflected with unerring precision, redirected by a subtle shimmer of Nen to tear through the two Cleaning Squad members before they could even scream.
A shame I don't know how to drive this thing, Ronin thought, looking at the array of levers and dials. Otherwise, I could use this steel beast to flatten the rest of them.
He glanced at the main cannon. It was useless now—he had already bent the barrel during his initial leap, turning the weapon into an oversized metal club.
The remaining members of the Cleaning Squad weren't martyrs. When they saw Ronin emerge from the tank's interior, standing atop the smoking wreckage of their pride, the entire line faltered. They took a collective, instinctive step back. The gunfire died down into a tense, terrified silence as they realized their bullets were doing absolutely nothing to this man.
He wasn't just a fighter; he was a catastrophe.
The last monster in Meteor City who had treated high-caliber rounds like mere nuisances was the infamous Uvogin of the Phantom Troupe. The Council of Elders still spoke of him in hushed tones, having labeled him a maximum-threat entity. Now, another such freak had emerged from the shadows. This wasn't a fight for "small fry" like them.
The moment Ronin took a single step toward them, the heavy thud of his boots echoing in the quiet street, the squad broke. They scattered like startled birds, abandoning their posts and their pride to vanish into the surrounding ruins.
Nothing but a disorganized mob, Ronin thought, watching them flee.
Nearby, Shizuku stood holding Blinky, her expression unreadable behind her thick glasses. She stared up at Ronin, silhouetted against the gray Meteor City sky atop the tank. For a fleeting second, the dust and the dim light seemed to frame him in a strange, heroic radiance.
Ronin... that's his name, she reminded herself, etching the detail into her mind before she could forget it.
With a soft sigh, Blinky vanished into a puff of Nen. If it was Ronin, perhaps he really could be the key to finding Spence.
The street was a graveyard of abandoned vehicles and spent shells. The Cleaning Squad had vanished, and the curious onlookers who had been hovering in the distance were scurrying away, terrified of being caught in the next explosion.
"The Council won't let this go," Shizuku said, her voice calm despite the carnage. She walked toward the tank, her steps light. "They're like rats. They'll be back with more."
"So, where is Spence?" Ronin asked, dropping down from the tank. He ignored her warning entirely; he had dealt with councils before.
If Shizuku could provide a location, he could end this tonight. He glanced toward a battered car in the nearby alley, spotting Damian slowly straightening up in his seat. Even through the cracked glass, the shock on the detective's face was palpable. The man looked like he had seen a god and realized he was on the wrong side of the altar.
"He should be at his manor," Shizuku answered. "I didn't have the confidence to take him on by myself. He has guards—real Nen users."
Despite her airheaded demeanor, Ronin noted that the girl was surprisingly practical. She knew her limits.
"With me and my companion, it should be enough," Ronin said, nodding toward the alley. "Let's get out of here first. This place is compromised."
Shizuku paused, turning to look at the small clinic that had been her home for so long. The walls were pockmarked with bullet holes, and the door hung loosely on its hinges. "This place probably won't survive the night. Once we leave, someone will eventually try to smoke me out using the same methods you did. They'll burn it down just to be sure."
"What do you want to do then?" Ronin asked.
"Can you help me pick up the whole house?" Shizuku looked at him expectantly, her eyes shining behind her glasses like a puppy begging for a treat. It was an absurd request, delivered with such earnestness that it was nearly impossible to refuse. "With your strength, you can do it, right?"
Ronin stared at the building, then back at the girl. "I'll try," he replied, though he kept his tone cautious.
Lifting an entire house wasn't just a matter of raw physical power. The real challenge lay in the application of [Shu]. He would have to extend his aura to envelop the entire foundation, reinforcing the structure so it wouldn't crumble the moment it left the ground. Without that, he would simply tear through the floorboards and leave the rest of the clinic in ruins.
What if I use [Ama-no-Tokotachi]? The thought occurred to him. If he locked the space occupied by the entire clinic into a single, cohesive unit, grabbing any part of it would be equivalent to grabbing the whole thing. It would eliminate the risk of the house breaking apart under its own weight.
However, a spatial lock on that scale would be incredibly taxing. He had to weigh the rapid depletion of his Nen against the mounting strain on his eyes.
After a moment's calculation, he chose to prioritize his Nen. Until he achieved the Eternal Mangekyou, he couldn't afford to be reckless with his ocular powers. Every use of the Mangekyou was a withdrawal from a finite bank. If he suffered irreversible damage now, he would be forced to use his remaining Scarlet Eyes for repairs—and he only had two pairs left in reserve. He had specifically kept them back after realizing that merging them not only boosted his pupillary power but also acted as a panacea for the blindness creeping into his vision.
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