Chapter 132: Clash and the Decoy
The reputation of the Royal Glas had always been impeccable.
Even years ago, when the Moritonio Troupe mysteriously disbanded following a
performance, no one suspected the Glas family of foul play.
They were innocent of that specific event. Moritonio had been killed by his own
pupil: Hisoka.
Moritonio, the ringmaster, was far from a simple entertainer; he had been a
notorious serial killer.
Seeing Abaki's stage makeup and her fluid movements, Ronin's memory connected
the dots to a specific side-story.
It was the Hisoka Origin one-shot drawn by Sui Ishida (the creator of Tokyo
Ghoul), which Yoshihiro Togashi had once publicly endorsed.
The story detailed Hisoka's discovery by the circus and his journey to mastering
Nen. Moritonio was the master who taught Hisoka the basics, and Abaki was
Hisoka's senior disciple.
The climax of that story involved Hisoka discovering Moritonio's murderous
identity and engaging him in a duel to the death. Hisoka revealed his genius for
combat, developed Bungee Gum, and left the troupe as the lone survivor of that
final night.
Ronin mused on how small the world felt.
He hadn't met a young Hisoka, but he had run into his past.
He wasn't interested in Abaki's history, but her Hatsu intrigued him.
Looking at the fishing rod in her hand, Ronin couldn't help but think of another
spiky-haired boy: Gon Freecss.
He wondered if Hisoka's fascination with Gon was partly due to the boy's
weapon—a reminder of his days in the circus.
Abaki's ability was clearly tied to that rod. Based on her stage performance,
she had integrated Spatial Manipulation into her Hatsu.
This was a major development branch for Emitters.
The elite example was Knov with his four-dimensional mansion. A mid-tier example
was Leorio with his remote punches. And then there were the pirates of Greed
Island.
The other branch of Emission was pure energy: Razor's Nen-ball, Franklin's
machine guns, Zeno's Dragon Head, or the mountain-level blasts released by the
Reborn King.
It was hard to say which path was superior, but adding a spatial property
certainly increased utility and "checkmate" potential compared to raw
destructive power.
As Ronin exited the theater, the crystal ball in his hands glowed, reflecting
the situation inside the locked hall.
The moment the last guest departed, the security guards sealed every exit.
Armed men flooded the theater. The performers on stage shifted from expectant
hope to a cold, sinking realization. Ronin watched their confusion and panic
through the glass orb.
"Lord Ryan, what is the meaning of this?" The Centaur stepped forward.
This was Norman, the ringmaster of the Macabre Menagerie.
"Nothing serious. I just wish to borrow a few things," Ryan said lazily,
standing up from his balcony seat. His eyes were dark with greed as they swept
over the performers, ignoring Abaki entirely. "I trust you won't refuse me this
small favor."
"Borrow what?" Norman asked. He felt the man's gaze crawling over him like
insects. He knew no good answer was coming, but he also knew they were trapped.
"Just the things you have that others don't," Ryan said, pointing his cigar.
"Your lower half. Her second head. His white Yeti fur..."
Ryan listed them off, one by one—the unique physical traits that made them
"freaks."
Without those parts, some might live, but they would lose their identity, their
livelihood, and their dignity.
To Ryan's surprise, the performers didn't scream. Their fear turned into a
hollow, practiced numbness. It seemed this wasn't the first time they had been
treated as inventory by the powerful.
"I'm afraid I must decline," Norman said. He maintained a professional tone, but
his aura shifted from a steady Ten to a vibrating Ren.
Ryan laughed. He wagged a finger. "It wasn't a request. I was just being
polite."
He waved a dismissive hand to his guards. "Try not to damage the merchandise. I
want them alive for the preservation process."
As a high-ranking Glas, Ryan didn't need to lift a finger. His dogs would do the
work.
But before the guards could move, Abaki—the one person Ryan had ignored—struck
first.
She whipped her fishing rod forward. The line hissed through the air with
impossible speed, the hook aiming straight for Ryan's throat.
Suddenly, a mountain of a man stepped into the path of the hook. He reached out
to snatch the line from the air.
The moment his palm was about to close on the steel, the hook flickered. It
vanished in a micro-spatial jump and reappeared inches from Ryan's face.
Thwack!
The hook bit deep into Ryan's arm. Abaki yanked the rod back, the line snapping
taut. Ryan let out a shriek of pain as the hook caught on bone. The force of
Abaki's pull dragged him over the balcony railing, sending him stumbling toward
the stage.
Ronin, watching through the crystal ball, didn't move.
Something felt wrong.
Ryan had seen Abaki's ability during the show. Why would he—and his elite
guards—be caught by such a predictable move?
Ronin wasn't the only one to notice.
Abaki felt the discrepancy the moment she increased the tension.
Ryan was screaming, but the wound in his arm wasn't bleeding. No blood sprayed.
No flesh tore.
It was a mannequin.
Abaki realized the trap a second too late.
The "Ryan" on the hook reached out with a stiff, plastic hand and gripped the
fishing line with a strength that defied its material.
"Caught you."
A mechanical, synthesized voice escaped the mannequin's mouth. Simultaneously, a
dark, viscous aura began to travel down the line toward Abaki.
Abaki gasped. Before she could react, the guard who had failed to catch the hook
vanished.
A specialist?
She reached into her pocket, pulling out a pair of scissors. She needed to cut
the line before the corruption reached her.
She ignored the guard closing in. She didn't need to look.
Because the moment the assassin appeared in front of her, a pair of powerful
horse hooves erupted from the air, slamming into the man's chest with the force
of a high-speed collision!
☆☆☆
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