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130 HxH: Tombbound Power
🕑 Added 2024-10-18 07:44:23 +0000 UTCEither the two of them were out of their minds, or the man standing in the black windbreaker was something beyond ordinary.
He wasn't just strong—he might be terrifyingly strong.
Everyone in this part of Meteor City was dangerous, and anyone who made it this far was no exception. Strength and a clear head went hand-in-hand here—if you had one, you had to have the other.
So, what kind of monster scares off two battle-hardened fighters without lifting a finger?
The five remaining men exchanged glances. No one dared to speak. The tension lingered like a storm cloud above them.
Sure, this guy might be strong—but there were five of them. And, more importantly, the Amethyst Grape Crystal was just within reach. They couldn't back out now, not when they were this close.
Leaving without trying? That would be unforgivable.
And maybe... just maybe, the man in front of them wasn't as terrifying as he seemed.
Still, the sliver of hope flickering in their hearts wasn't enough to keep the fear from creeping in. One wrong move could cost them their lives.
Ronnel watched the group with a relaxed smile, hands in his pockets. They stood frozen, barely breathing, like statues waiting to be shattered.
"I need to clear the area." His voice was soft, almost casual, yet it carried an unspoken weight. "I'd hate for anything to go wrong while I pick these Amethyst Grape Crystal before nightfall."
He tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly.
"But since none of you feel like leaving... I guess I'll have to handle this myself."
Without another word, Ronnel's body shifted—and in the blink of an eye, he vanished from where he stood.
The five men tensed, scrambling into defensive stances. They knew this was coming, yet it still caught them off-guard.
But before any of them could react, Ronnel appeared right in front of the nearest man.
So fast?!
The man's eyes widened in shock, his pupils shrinking to pinpricks.
Ronnel's expression remained unreadable as he moved with practiced precision. In one fluid motion, his hand shot out—
"Snap!"
A sickening crack echoed through the air. The man collapsed to the ground, clutching his throat as the life faded from his eyes.
Ronnel glanced down at the lifeless body and exhaled calmly.
"One." He counted softly, the word slipping from his lips like an afterthought.
His gaze lifted to the remaining four, who stared back at him, horror etched across their faces.
"I'll give you one more chance," Ronnel said evenly. "Leave now, or you won't leave at all."
For a moment, the men hesitated. Then their fear twisted into something sharper—feral grins spread across their faces.
This guy was bluffing.
From a distance, Bisky stood with her arms crossed, eyeing Ronnel with mild amusement.
"Doing it on purpose again, huh?" she muttered under her breath.
Sure, Ronnel's kill had looked clean, but she knew he was holding back. And now, instead of finishing the job, he'd given them another chance to retreat—something that only encouraged their misplaced confidence.
The way he toyed with his enemies was familiar to her. It was a classic bait-and-switch, designed to confuse and provoke them.
Even the slightest inconsistency in his aura would plant doubt in their minds.
Is he really that strong?
Or just a fraud?
They were falling for it—hook, line, and sinker.
"Yep, he's pulling that intermediate-level trick again," Bisky thought with a smirk. "Lure them in with strength, confuse them with hesitation... and let them destroy themselves."
As predicted, the group's expressions shifted to malicious glee. They believed they'd cracked the code.
"I knew it," one of them snarled. "He's not that strong."
The tension snapped like a rubber band. Two of them charged forward, while the others prepared their abilities. Ice spears materialized in the air, and a gun appeared in the hands of another.
But Ronnel's smile remained unshaken. This was exactly what he wanted.
The slim, blue sword in his left hand glinted under the dull light, and an ancient copper saber gleamed in his right. In one smooth movement, he surged forward with deadly intent.
Meanwhile, not far from the skirmish, two figures stumbled through the shadows, panting heavily.
"Finally... we made it out," gasped the man holding a silver needle. He collapsed onto the ground, gulping air like a drowning man.
He glanced over his shoulder, scanning for pursuers. When no one appeared, a smug grin spread across his face.
"Idiots. They'll all die in there." He chuckled darkly. "Lucky for us, we knew when to get the hell out."
But his companion, wrapped in bandages, wasn't laughing. His expression was twisted with unease.
"You... don't feel that?" the bandaged man whispered, scanning their surroundings.
The silver-needle user frowned. "Feel what?"
Then it hit him. The oppressive weight that had chased them earlier was gone.
Completely gone.
His grin faded, and his breath hitched as dread clawed its way up his spine.
Something was horribly, horribly wrong.
