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Chapter 659
🕑 Added 2025-07-09 15:03:02 +0000 UTCChapter 659
"Where is that guy?"
"Where is he? He promised me I'd be allowed to leave!"
"That lying bastard!"
Ponzu’s glare burned with fury as she stared down at Oster. Images of her village—of her grandmother—rushed through her mind, and her eyes reddened with rage. Blood vessels burst in her gaze, veins pulsing visibly across her face. Her fury was palpable, like a heat wave radiating through the room.
“It’s because of you that my grandmother died.”
“It’s because of you that my village was destroyed.”
“I’ll avenge her. I’ll avenge everyone!”
With a sharp cry, Ponzu raised her arms, and hundreds of bees burst from her aura. At her command, they swarmed toward Oster with a furious hum.
“Kill him!”
The moment the words fell, the bees surged in. Their stingers sank deep into Oster’s body, one after another. Each puncture wasn’t just painful—it carried venom into his bloodstream.
Under normal conditions, Oster could have shrugged off such an assault with indifference. A high-level Nen user’s body was far more resistant to poison than any normal person’s.
But not now.
Weakened, battered, and barely holding on, he had no defenses left.
As the venom spread, his condition worsened rapidly. His breathing became labored. His limbs stopped responding.
One bee even crawled into his nose, burrowing deeper until it reached his lungs. Oster couldn't even clench a muscle to stop it.
His body began to go numb. His skin pale. His vision blurred.
Another bee tore into the side of his throat. Others struck at his heart and open wounds.
“Damn it!” Oster choked, eyes wide in disbelief. “Damn it all!”
The pain was nothing compared to the humiliation. He couldn’t accept this. Dying like this? At the hands of a mere child?
“Damn it!!”
Hatred—deep, suffocating hatred—boiled inside him. It clung to his soul, thick and toxic. He had been so close. With the backing of the Underworld Mafia, success had been within reach. A few more years, and he could have stood at the pinnacle.
But the Phantom Troupe appeared.
Then Ron took everything—his data, his secrets—and even all that he still wanted his life.
Oster’s mind filled with Ron’s face, etched there in seething resentment.
But none of his hatred could change reality.
His life force kept fading, and eventually… it disappeared completely.
Still, Ponzu’s rage hadn’t cooled.
She gave no order to stop. The bees kept attacking his corpse—ripping, stinging, tearing—until it was nearly unrecognizable.
Then suddenly, something changed.
A chill swept through the room.
Dark, suffocating Nen surged from Oster’s body.
“Post-mortem Nen?” Ron stepped in without hesitation.
From Oster’s corpse, a dense hatred began to take shape. A Death Nen—a vengeful, lingering obsession.
Its target was clear.
The instant it sensed Ron, it lunged.
“Die, brat!”
Ron didn’t flinch. Calmly, he drew his Rotten Life Blade.
As the Death Nen charged toward him, Ron brought the blade down in one clean arc.
Slash.
The mass of hatred split in two.
A violent pull surged from the Rotten Life Blade, drawing the Death Nen into its core. The last trace of Oster’s will was devoured in moments.
Ron could feel it—this had been the Nen of an elite-level user, top-tier among A-rank hunters.
Yet his blade didn’t grow stronger.
“I see. It’s already at its limit. No further growth possible.”
Ron returned the Rotten Life Blade to his waist.
“Thank you... Captain.” Ponzu approached him quietly, her eyes still rimmed in red.
Ron patted her shoulder, offering no words. Just presence.
“Let’s go.”
Together, they exited the Sumas space.
But before leaving, Ron did one more thing—he tossed Oster’s body into the Trial Zone, to be absorbed by the realm.
If someone could overcome the trial and inherit Oster’s abilities, it would be a worthwhile power boost.
The two stepped out of the room.
Ron’s eyes drifted toward Machi.
“Machi. You've gotten familiar with everything by now, right?”
Machi nodded. Truthfully, she was a little surprised. She hadn’t expected Ron’s team to be this strong—not just powerful, but well-rounded.
Even if the Phantom Troupe extended an invitation, she now doubted Ron would accept.
It wasn’t just his strength that mattered.
Mistry—B-rank.
Nina—B-rank.
Shizuku—B-rank.
Ponzu’s rank wasn’t high, but her Nen ability was rare and extremely valuable. Even the Troupe had no one with information-gathering skills like hers.
Plus, with Machi herself added in...
She did the math. Ron’s team was already half the strength of the Phantom Troupe—and in terms of overall synergy, maybe even stronger.
“That’s good,” Ron said. “As for your Nen ability... any ideas?”
“I’ve been thinking about it,” Machi replied. “But I haven’t settled on anything yet.”
“Let me know if you want help.”
“Thanks.” She hesitated for a second, then asked, “Captain... can I ask? What’s the Troupe’s condition right now?”
“Shizuku and Bonoleno took the worst hits,” Ron answered. “The rest, I’m not too sure. I left right after the battle ended.”
Machi lowered her gaze.
She wasn’t part of the Troupe anymore. But they had been her comrades. Her friends.
She still cared.
..............................
................
.
Ron sat down on the couch.
Oster’s death brought him quiet satisfaction.
First, it meant Oster was no longer a threat. Ron didn’t need to worry about some shadow from the past striking at him again.
Second—and more importantly—he now had all of Oster’s experimental research.
Once he acquired the remaining assets from the Underworld Mafia, he could unlock the direct path for Ponzu to advance to S-rank.
And that would take his team’s power to another level.
This battle had made one thing clear.
A-rank Nen users varied wildly in power. Ron, Hisoka, Chrollo—all A-rank. And yet, even with support from Nobunaga and Franklin, they hadn’t been able to overwhelm Oster.
Despite being "just" A-rank.
That alone said everything.
Yes, Ron had been holding back. Chrollo hadn’t had time to prepare. And no one really understood Oster’s powers.
But the conclusion was the same: Oster had been terrifyingly strong.
And yet… when he fought Rosgal, he had barely resisted.
Two hits.
That was all it took to break him.
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hector lyng
TFTC
