The man in the hat, eyes glinting with madness, prepared for the battle ahead. Perhaps spilling a bit of blood could calm the raging storm within him.
In an instant, he darted towards Ronnel, moving with blinding speed, aiming to strike him from behind.
Clang!
But the expected sensation of a blade piercing flesh didn't follow. Instead, the sharp blade had snapped, sending fragments spinning in the air before clattering to the ground. The man in the hat stared, dumbfounded, at the broken sword in his hand. It felt as though he had struck steel rather than flesh.
"Why do so many insist on denying reality?"
A voice drifted to him from in front, making the man shiver. Ronnel turned to face him, his gaze cold and unyielding—like he was already looking at a corpse.
A sense of dread washed over the man in the hat. Eyes narrowing, he used Gyo to intensify his perception, and what he saw left him speechless. The sheer mass of aura around Ronnel was overwhelming.
"What… are you?" he whispered, though his voice rose to a scream by the end. His body began to tremble involuntarily. Though he loved a good fight, this was different—he was facing someone in a league far beyond his own.
"A person like you shouldn't be unknown in the world. You can't just be some bodyguard for a gangster family!" He eyed Ronnel's mask more closely, suspicion clouding his gaze. "And hiding your face… who are you really?!"
Ronnel smirked and took a step toward him. "What's the point of knowing now?"
"How could it be meaningless?" the man argued, stepping back, gripping his broken weapon tighter. "At least let me die knowing who killed me!"
Summoning another knife, he resolved to fight to the end. He knew he wouldn't live but refused to go down without a struggle.
"Understand?" Ronnel chuckled softly. "Sorry, but I won't grant that request."
Swish!
Ronnel vanished, leaving the man in the hat desperately spinning, searching every direction for a trace of him.
Suddenly, a voice drifted from above. "You overlooked the top."
Before he could react, a crushing force struck his head. Darkness enveloped him as he felt his skull cave under the impact.
Thud.
The man in the hat collapsed, lifeless. Ronnel stood over him, giving a slight shake of his head as he looked into his vacant eyes.
With one last look, Ronnel turned and moved back along the blood-stained street. The man had sought his blood to ease his nerves—now, Ronnel had his life to warm his skin instead.
In an empty observation room, Chrollo casually retrieved the pen embedded in an assassin's skull and sent a mass message to his troupe about their upcoming feigned death and the plan to replicate the auction items.
After wiping the pen clean, he tucked it away, ready for its next use. He pushed the assassin's body aside and turned to face the person at the door.
"Interesting…"
Chrollo's eyes flashed as he surveyed the figure—a man with an unsettling aura, wearing underworld attire and a bizarre mask of human skin. Unlike the usual assassins, this one radiated an oppressive, dangerous energy that sent a thrill of caution through Chrollo. Stronger even than those he'd previously encountered.
This man wasn't someone to underestimate, even in Chrollo's fateful encounter with Silva Zoldyck three years ago, he hadn't felt this kind of threat.
Wary yet curious, Chrollo's mind spun. "A mask like that… either to conceal his identity, because he's recognizable, or as part of a restriction in his Nen abilities."
He analyzed each detail. "If it's for hiding, then he must be someone familiar to me or a figure who'd attract attention among assassins. If it's a concealment for personal reasons, maybe it's to hide disfigurement—a possible psychological angle. Or, it's tied to his Nen abilities, perhaps a restriction and vow."
But regardless of the reason, Chrollo thought, if he could only get that mask off, it might give him the edge he needed.
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