Chapter 134: Hooking a Rocket Launcher
In Ronin's eyes, Enhancer combat was ultimately a game of pure numbers.
When your stats created an absolute threshold of superiority, technique became
secondary. If your physical durability was higher, your AOP (Actual Output
Power) was greater, and your POP (Potential Output Power) was deeper, you were
simply the stronger, more enduring force.
The guard's choice to engage wasn't logically flawed, but he had ignored the
most lethal variable: Ronin's aura capacity formed a total, crushing wall
against him.
Ronin didn't hold back. As the guard buckled from the initial hand-crushing
agony, Ronin launched a snap-kick into his sternum. The impact caved the man's
chest inward, and Ronin tossed the broken body aside like a piece of discarded
trash.
This sudden escalation felt slow in description, but in reality, it unfolded in
a single heartbeat.
When the massive heavy-duty shield—hurled by Ronin—whizzed past the ear of
another guard charging at Abaki, the entire theater fell into a stunned silence.
The shield slammed into the floorboards with a thunderous THUD that vibrated
through the building.
In that moment, Abaki snapped her eyes open. With a sharp flick of her wrist,
her fishing hook—which had vanished into a spatial fold—reappeared in a ripple
of distorted air.
Hooked on the line was a man-portable RPG launcher.
It was impossible to tell where she had "hooked" it from, but she snatched the
weapon from the line with practiced ease, hoisted it onto her shoulder, and
aimed it directly at the theater's main barricaded doors.
Abaki had been hyper-focused on her "fishing"; she had no idea what was
happening in the room around her.
Norman, however, saw everything.
He noted that the intruder—Ronin—hadn't just attacked the guards; he had
deliberately cleared a path for them.
"An ally," Norman deduced.
If they coordinated with this newcomer, the Macabre Menagerie might actually
make it out of this slaughterhouse alive.
WHOOSH—BOOM!
The rocket streaked across the hall. The guards at the exit never expected heavy
ordinance to come from a circus performer. They didn't even have time to scream
before the detonation turned them into vapor.
The blast pulverized the reinforced doors, revealing the corridor beyond—and a
group of horrified spectators who hadn't managed to escape yet.
The civilians stood frozen by the sudden explosion before erupting into panicked
shrieks.
"GO! NOW!" Abaki screamed.
This was her final trump card. The Macabre Menagerie had suffered through a
lifetime of exploitation; they were outcasts who had learned to bite back.
People looked at them with curiosity or disgust, but no one ever looked at them
as a threat. They had used that prejudice to hide their teeth. Abaki was no
exception.
The broken doors wouldn't guarantee safety for everyone, but if the Ringmaster,
Norman, could escape, the troupe's legacy would survive.
But as the smoke cleared, gunfire erupted from the hallway outside.
The surviving spectators were cut down in a spray of lead. A fresh squad of
black-suited gunmen—Mafia enforcers—appeared in the corridor, opening fire on
anything that moved.
The massacre lasted only seconds before two new figures appeared in the hallway.
The gunmen began to drop, their throats slit or their skulls crushed by two
lightning-fast silhouettes.
Neon and Shizuku.
Ronin saw his teammates engage and made a split-second decision. He formed the
cross-shaped seal for a Shadow Clone.
Poof.
The clone stayed in the theater to cover the performers, while the main body
blurred, streaking through the broken doors at a speed that defied the human
eye.
If Ryan Glas wasn't in the theater, he was outside, orchestrating the lockdown.
The performers watched in awe as Ronin literally split in two. To them, creating
a physical duplicate of that quality was a master-tier Conjuration feat. To do
so while simultaneously dominating in melee? The boy's power was
incomprehensible.
The guards didn't waver, but they adjusted their tactics.
The "Ryan Glas" mannequin on the stage, which had been eroding since being
hooked, suddenly shattered into pieces. The dark aura-curse it was projecting
vanished instantly.
The guards abandoned their pursuit of Abaki and redirected their charge toward
Ronin's clone.
To the clone, their movements were riddled with openings.
Only one of the guards was a true Nen user. The others were ordinary humans, but
they were coated in a layer of "static" aura—a Hatsu that made them look like
experts to a standard Gyo scan.
To a Sharingan user, however, the difference was night and day. A Nen user's
aura is a living, flowing stream; a "faked" aura is rigid and mechanical.
Ronin's clone ignored the decoys and blitzed the real target.
The Nen user realized he was exposed and tried to activate his Hatsu, but the
clone was already in his personal space.
The clone didn't use Nen. He used Chakra.
Cherry Blossom Impact!
The punch slammed into the man's chest. Without a dedicated Nen defense, the
guard's torso simply disintegrated under the explosive Chakra burst.
It was a total, overwhelming execution.
☆☆☆
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