Ronnel relaxed the muscles in his hand slightly, easing the force on the ball. Balancing it on one finger, he gave it a gentle spin.
"Interesting."
He smiled lightly, completely unaware of just how much impact his casual gesture had on the people around him.
"Hey, hey, is this real?!"
The group of criminals behind Razor gawked at Ronnel, their voices filled with shock.
They simply couldn't believe that the dodgeball—launched by Razor, someone they saw as an unstoppable force, a demon king among men, a projectile akin to a life-ending bullet—had been caught so effortlessly.
It was unbelievable!
"Is this... the strength of a Battle Olympia champion?!"
A burly, dark-skinned man standing behind Tsezguerra stared at the dodgeball spinning on Ronnel's fingertip, his voice trembling in disbelief.
"So he really is that strong..." murmured a muscular white-haired man beside him, swallowing hard.
"The ball was packed with such immense aura, yet he caught it with just one hand..."
"No injuries, no burn marks from the friction—not even a hint of smoke." Another tall man added, his voice full of awe.
"He didn't even take a step back or shift his stance."
Tsezguerra's final statement fell like a hammer, plunging the entire group into stunned silence.
Across the field, Goreinu remained speechless, but his bulging eyes and gaping mouth spoke volumes.
"Hah~ To think that the little kid from back then would grow this powerful."
Bisky, watching from the sidelines, let out a slow breath, surprise flickering in her gaze.
With more than forty years of experience since she began mastering Nen at sixteen, Bisky had the sharpest eyes on the field.
She had clearly seen how Ronnel caught Razor's attack.
And that understanding made her even more shaken than Tsezguerra and the others.
There were no advanced Nen techniques, no flashy moves, no special abilities involved.
Most experienced Nen users could use "hardening."
Ronnel had simply coated his palm and fingers with an overwhelming amount of aura—far more than what Razor had infused into the dodgeball—and used sheer brute force to catch it.
The moment the ball made contact, Ronnel's own aura shredded Razor's aura apart like paper.
Even after neutralizing Razor's overwhelming energy, Ronnel still had plenty of aura left in his palm to completely absorb the impact, stopping the ball dead in its tracks upon touching his hand.
Forget friction burns—there wasn't even the faintest wisp of smoke.
Only two and a half people on the field fully grasped what had just happened.
Bisky, an experienced outsider with an impeccable eye, was one.
Shizuku, who had a vague understanding, counted as half.
And Razor, who had felt every ounce of energy exchanged in that moment, was the other.
He had focused intently on his aura and Ronnel's movements, and with his keen battle intuition, he understood just how absurdly powerful Ronnel's technique was.
"Is the gap between us really this vast?"
The gentle smile on Razor's face slowly faded, his sharp eyes widening ever so slightly.
'The last Battle Olympia champion, Sparka, didn't have anything close to this level of power. I figured no matter how strong this year's winner was, they wouldn't be this strong. But it seems...'
He fell silent for a moment.
'This year's champion isn't a fluke.'
His muscles tensed, a grin creeping back onto his lips.
It was the grin of a warrior eager for battle.
"Ronnel is seriously incredible!!"
Gon and Killua didn't fully understand what had just happened, but they knew one thing—Ronnel was ridiculously strong.
That was enough.
The two boys straightened their backs, all hesitation and worry gone, their faces lighting up with confidence. They would win this match!
"No point dragging this out. Let's finish it."
Ronnel stopped spinning the ball on his finger. As everyone focused on him, they saw—clear as day—a dense layer of aura coating the dodgeball, twice as powerful as before!
The moment he unleashed his full aura, a chill ran down the spines of everyone present—everyone except for the monstrous Razor and the experienced Bisky. Even Shizuku, who was relatively weak in combat, could sense it.
The ball radiated a presence that made their hearts clench with fear.
"Such intensity..."
Razor's pupils shrank as he realized the danger.
"I can't stop this."
A quick mental calculation of their power levels gave him an answer.
"Even if I go all out, I still won't be able to stop it."
He looked up, focusing on Ronnel's composed face, completely devoid of strain.
If someone could release this much aura effortlessly, it meant one of two things:
Either they were faking it, creating an illusion of power to put psychological pressure on their opponent.
Or—this level of aura was genuinely effortless for them.
Razor wanted to believe the first option.
But his instincts, honed from surviving the chaos and evading countless pursuers, screamed that it was the second.
Every veteran Hunter and warrior who had danced on the edge of death learned to trust their gut feelings.
It wasn't logic, but it was always right.
And Razor had only ever been captured by one man—Ging.
He trusted his instincts.
So he made the smartest choice available.
Instead of attempting to block or counter the ball, he stepped aside.
The dodgeball rocketed past him like a meteor.
At this moment, aside from the inhuman monsters still standing on the field, there was no one behind Razor who could take that hit.
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