The swordsman was wrapped in Ren.
An Enhancer?
Ronin made the call instantly. The bullets he still held shot out and struck the descending blade.
Sparks flew. The impact knocked the blade off line, and Ronin's second bullet was already aimed at the opponent's weapon hand.
The long sword vanished midair. The attacker retreated at high speed, dodging the second bullet.
So—Conjuration.
Ronin stepped forward, fully entering the clinic. He'd run out of bullets, so he simply raised his hand in a pistol gesture and aimed at the man.
A Conjurer thinking he could go toe-to-toe in close combat with an Enhancer just because he could conjure weapons? Don't make him laugh.
"Bang!"
As Ronin mimicked the gunshot, Nen burst from his fingertip and shot straight at the target.
The retreating man had already realized the gap the moment Ronin casually knocked his sword aside with a bullet. So when Ronin "fired," the man conjured another sword in his hand.
The Nen bullet hit the sword and was easily cut apart—but before the man could celebrate, a large hand had already slipped past the blade and clamped onto his throat.
Emitter attacks were always feints.
Enhancement was Ronin's foundation. The moment the opponent's attention was drawn by the "bullet," Ronin had already exploded forward, closing the distance.
He didn't need answers.
His arm snapped, and he twisted—breaking the man's neck—and then casually tossed the corpse toward the doorway.
Right then, armed cleanup squad members appeared at the entrance.
But before they could even raise their guns, Ronin's thrown body slammed into them. They went flying like bowling pins, rolling backward in a heap.
Ronin expanded his Nen outward into En, covering the entire clinic, confirming it was empty.
Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a twisted bundle cloth.
He unfolded it, and packets of snacks spilled out onto a table.
Ronin sat down in a chair and picked up a manga volume from the snack pile—one he'd been reading recently.
That was the beauty of Owl's ability: once the cloth was created, even someone other than Owl could open it and take out what was inside.
The drawback was that this "temporary backpack" could only last about a week.
Not because Owl's ability had a fixed time limit—but because maintaining the cloth continuously drained Owl's Nen. The drain was small, but over time it would exhaust Owl completely.
Fortunately, Ronin had Kurapika.
Every three days, they could "recharge" Owl by using Kurapika's pinky recovery chain to speed up Owl's aura recovery, keeping Owl's Nen going.
Even so, this meant Ronin could only maintain three long-term bundle cloths at once. Beyond that, Owl's energy expenditure would outpace recovery even with Kurapika's help.
Someone peeked into the clinic again.
They were greeted by a sunflower seed flicking through the air.
Even an ordinary seed, reinforced by Nen, pierced straight through the man's skull. He collapsed, twitched a few times, and went still.
Outside, cleanup squad members and Spence's private soldiers stared at each other, unwilling to charge into the clinic again.
But before long, an engine roar sounded down the street—an old tank was rolling into view.
Behind it, cleanup squad members carried heavier weapons: assault rifles, rocket launchers, crates of grenades. And among them was an ability user, maintaining Ten.
"This straight-ahead style really suits Ronin," Neon sighed from a rooftop vantage point as she watched the street below.
"But it works," Kurapika said, a faint smile appearing.
It almost felt like Ronin was becoming more reckless now that Kurapika was with him.
Kurapika saw it as trust. He knew that if he'd said "no" when Ronin first walked toward the clinic, Ronin would have stopped and waited for Kurapika's arrangement before moving.
But Kurapika hadn't stopped him—because he trusted Ronin too.
He knew Ronin loved battle, and he also knew Ronin's most terrifying skill wasn't attacking—it was escaping.
For example—
Kurapika tapped the chest pocket of his shirt. Inside was a kunai wrapped with a talisman covered in special writing.
Ronin had said the talisman bore four words: "Ninja Love Sword."
As long as Kurapika carried that kunai—and as long as their distance wasn't something absurd like "across countries"—Ronin could appear beside him instantly.
"You spoil him," Neon pouted.
"This is also trust in you," Kurapika replied. "Your prophecy poem mentioned this place—if Ronin stays in that house, he'll get what he wants and meet the person he's searching for."
Neon didn't say anything, but the corner of her mouth lifted into a pleased curve.
"That girl—Shizuku—really that important?" Neon asked more seriously. "Will she become our companion?"
Neon could accept Ronin and Kurapika, but that didn't mean she'd accept anyone else easily.
"Trust nii-san Ronin's judgment," Kurapika said. "And even if his judgment slips… his instincts are still reliable."
"That's true," Neon nodded.
Down in the clinic, before the tank even reached the door, a cold voice sounded behind Ronin.
"Who are you?"
Ronin turned and saw Shizuku: large black-rimmed glasses, black top, blue jeans—dressed like an ordinary girl next door.
"Ronin," he gave his name.
"So you did this on purpose?" Shizuku didn't approach. Her eyes were full of caution.
"Yes. I came to find you," Ronin admitted plainly.
"Why?" Shizuku pressed.
"First, your ability is extremely useful. Second, I think you're probably not a bad person. Third, I don't want you to become my enemy and end up having to kill you," Ronin answered just as directly.
Shizuku frowned. "I don't think I know you. How do you know my ability? And what kind of person I am?"
"That's right—you don't know me," Ronin said. "But I know you. Someone showed me what happened at this clinic, and it helped me guess your ability.
Most importantly: if I don't bring you into my team, someone else will invite you. Then we'll end up enemies—and I'll have to find a chance to kill you."
~~~
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