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The sheer force exploded outward. The security guard flew backward even faster than he'd charged in.
Abachi had sliced through the fishing line just in time, before the Nen could reach her rod.
But the erosion mark didn't stop. It kept spreading through the air, drifting straight toward her position.
What the hell? Was it locking onto the aura clinging to the line instead of the line itself?
If that was true, the attack would reach her no matter what.
Abachi backpedaled hard, trying to put distance between herself and the creeping mark.
Smart move. The mark spread slowly, and Ryan's body was visibly shrinking as it advanced. Soon his entire form would turn into that spreading corruption, and the attack would fizzle once it lost its target.
The real problem? Would anyone in the theater actually give her time to stall? Could the venue even let her keep retreating?
The guard Norman had kicked across the room stood back up like nothing happened. He looked completely unfazed.
Only three people in the entire freak-show troupe had Nen. The two-headed girl wasn't a fighter. With just Abachi and Norman, breaking out was impossible.
Her only real option was to buy Norman enough time to escape and expose what the Grasse family was doing here.
The royal Grasse clan pulling this kind of filthy stunt.
She reached into her waistband and pulled out a fresh length of line.
Her fingers brushed against the crumpled poster of the red-haired kid she still hadn't gone to see.
For half a second her hand paused.
Training with Hisoka had been the best part of her time in the old troupe.
Too bad she'd never get the chance to meet him now.
And she still didn't know what she'd even say if she did.
Her hands moved fast, knotting the broken line to the new one with practiced ease.
The hook at the end flicked through the air and vanished.
Abachi stopped dead, closed her eyes, and stood perfectly still, feeling for the connection like an old pro.
Norman saw what she was doing and immediately stepped in front of her, using his massive body as a shield.
The rest of the troupe reacted fast. They yanked hidden weapons from every corner of the stage like they'd been waiting for this exact moment.
A bunch of physically broken people, and they'd all been ready to fight.
None of them had expected to turn those weapons on the Grasse family—the same people they'd looked up to as the pinnacle of everything.
The thrill of the invitation. The nerves before stepping on stage. Giving the performance of their lives. All they got in return were greedy stares and open contempt.
Yeah. This world was already completely rotten.
The snow-monster guy grabbed his door-sized shield and charged the man who wanted to skin them alive.
Gunfire cracked.
The bullets weren't aimed at him. They tore into the troupe members who didn't have valuable fur to harvest.
The snow monster's shield never came down. A black-suited guard had caught it one-handed.
One simple grab made all that power look pathetic.
The guard's thick arm flexed. His suit sleeve ripped. He ripped the shield away and swung it straight at the snow monster's head.
The boss wanted the fur intact, so knocking the guy out was the cleanest play. No blood to ruin that pretty white coat.
His swing never landed.
Another figure—same size, way more power—snatched the shield out of the air mid-swing.
Ronin had used Flying Thunder God the instant the first shot rang out and appeared right in the middle of the theater.
He couldn't just stand by and watch the troupe get slaughtered. He'd held off earlier only to see what Abachi and Norman could actually do.
Norman's ability had a flaw. Manifesting the legs was fine, but his fighting style leaned way too hard into Enhancement and killed most of the manifestation's real power.
That explosive kick should have wrecked the guy. Instead he was back on his feet like it was nothing.
Abachi was still a mystery. It all depended on what she hooked with that rod. If she came up empty, it was going to be embarrassing.
Ronin's sudden appearance pulled every eye in the room.
He scanned the theater fast, searching for Ryan's aura among the survivors.
Nothing.
Had the bastard already slipped out?
The black-suited guard who'd tried to brain the snow monster took one look at how Ronin had entered and instantly classified the threat.
Emitter.
The whole theater was sealed tight. Not even a fly could get in without permission.
Yet this guy had appeared out of nowhere and blocked his attack.
Only one explanation: the guy had left a marker here earlier. He'd been in the audience the whole time.
Didn't matter why he was here. He was dying tonight.
An Emitter with teleportation who still wanted to brawl with a real Enhancer? Suicide.
The guard let go of the shield.
You burned all that Nen to take it? Fine. It's yours now.
He blurred forward, closed the distance in a flash, and drove his fist straight at Ronin's face.
Enhancers didn't need fancy tricks.
His fist was the weapon.
It never connected.
Ronin caught the punch in his palm like it was nothing.
Fingers closed. Bone cracked. The guard screamed.
In that split second the man understood everything.
The opponent wasn't an Emitter playing close combat for fun.
He was an absolute monster whose visible aura output had just crushed him completely.