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276 HxH: Tombbound Power
🕑 Added 2024-12-22 06:00:08 +0000 UTCRonnel couldn't help but imagine the kind of battle that would unfold between Netero and the Ant King at their absolute peaks. The thought exhilarated him.
More than that, though, he harbored a deep desire to fight Netero himself—when the legendary Hunter was at his strongest, standing at the apex of human ability.
With the effects of Greed Island cards persisting outside the game, Ronnel's mind raced with possibilities. Perhaps he could find a way to bring Netero into the island and have him take one of those miraculous medicines directly.
And if that didn't work, there was always Ging's mysterious companion, the one responsible for creating the cards.
Ging's lack of concern for Gon, even when the boy was gravely injured and teetering on the edge of death, hinted at the companion's abilities. If someone could create a card with the restorative power of Angel's Breath, surely they could craft something of similar potency in the real world.
For context, Angel's Breath held an SS-3 rating in Greed Island, compared to the S-10-rated Witch's Rejuvenation Potion. In terms of both difficulty and effect, the former was leagues ahead.
Ronnel was already making plans. After this expedition, he'd seek out Ging to not only meet this remarkable friend but also try to acquire some of that rejuvenating medicine. It would be useful—not just for himself, but also for Shizuku and Bisky.
Women had a natural inclination toward beauty, after all. Even Bisky, with her petite, doll-like form, was no exception. Whenever Killua sarcastically referred to her as an "old hag," it only reinforced how much she valued her youthful appearance.
Still, Ronnel knew Bisky prioritized survival over vanity. In this dangerous world, where strength often determined one's fate, keeping herself in peak physical condition came first.
After all, what good was beauty if you weren't alive to enjoy it?
Despite her youthful appearance, Bisky retained the battle-hardened reflexes and raw power of a seasoned Hunter in her prime. At 57 years old, she had reached a level of mastery that few could rival. And when needed, she could seamlessly shift between her adorable facade and her combat-ready form.
In the world of Hunters, a martial artist's prime often extended into their forties and fifties. Netero, for instance, was at his strongest during those years.
Even the peculiar man with scissors who had been watching Bisky and Gon closely couldn't help but marvel at her condition. By analyzing a strand of her hair, he discerned the meticulous care she took to remain at her peak.
But that was a thought for later. For now, Ronnel focused on the scene before him.
"Whoosh!"
A sharp whistling sound cut through the air, approaching rapidly.
"Ging, watch the sun's position!" Ronnel called out, dodging a projectile—a broken bone—that had whizzed past him. The force of it stung his cheek, making him grimace.
"Sorry about that," Ging replied sheepishly, his tone light even as he faced down the horde of bone demons. "It's hard to track things with this many coming at us..."
Before he could finish his sentence, another wave of bone demons swarmed him, burying him under their mass. Ging retaliated with a devastating punch, sending shattered bones flying in every direction.
Yet the undead didn't falter. They kept coming, mindlessly relentless.
Ronnel observed the cycle from his perch on a mountain of bones: attack, overwhelm, be knocked away, and then attack again. The bone demons' tactics were repetitive, but their sheer numbers and persistence made them dangerous.
Individually, many of them were as powerful as members of the Phantom Troupe in their youth, Ronnel estimated.
It wasn't surprising. These creatures, native to the Dark Continent, thrived on resentment and death. Having inhabited Braga Canyon for countless years, they had grown into a formidable force. Their only true weakness was the head.
To make matters worse, the Sonata of Darkness emanating from the high platform—where the bone demon leader sat—was interfering with Ging's reactions. The melody distorted his perception of time, forcing him to exert tremendous mental effort just to adapt.
Ronnel could see it clearly now: Ging's puppet form was struggling under the strain.
"Hey, Ging! You're reaching your limit, aren't you?" Ronnel called out, his voice carrying a mixture of concern and teasing.
Ging paused, taking a moment to catch his breath. Sweat trickled down his face, but his eyes sparkled with excitement.
"This is more intense than I expected," Ging admitted, glancing at the bone demons advancing toward him. "But it's fitting. After all, these are remnants of a race from the Dark Continent. The energy they emit is on an entirely different level compared to anything from the Six Continents."
Despite his words, Ging's grin widened. He adjusted his stance, exhaling sharply before locking eyes with Ronnel.
"Ronnel, thank you," he said suddenly.
The words caught Ronnel off guard. "Huh? Thank me for what?"
"For giving me the chance to test my limits again."
With that, Ging straightened, his gaze intensifying.
"When I first started learning Nen, I lived for moments like these—moments of life and death that pushed me to the brink. It's been a long time since I've felt this alive."
With renewed vigor, Ging charged headlong into the bone demon horde, his movements a blur of precision and power.
