A tremendous force exploded outward, and the security guard was sent flying back even faster than he had come.
Abaki, meanwhile, managed to cut the fishing line before the spreading Nen could reach her rod.
But although the line had been severed, the trail of erosion didn't stop with it. Instead, it kept advancing through the air, continuing toward Abaki's fishing rod.
What the hell?
Had the target not been the fishing line itself, but the aura attached to it?
If that was the case, then didn't that mean the ability would inevitably reach her no matter what? Abaki retreated at high speed, trying to widen the distance between herself and that spreading trace.
Her choice was the right one.
The spreading mark wasn't moving particularly fast. In fact, with every inch it advanced, "Ryan's" body visibly shrank.
Maybe it wouldn't be long before Ryan's entire body was completely converted into that spreading corrosive trace. And once that happened, if the attack still failed to catch its target, it would naturally lose its effect.
But the problem now was this: would the people in the theater really give her that much time to stall?
And was there even enough space in the theater for her to keep retreating?
The guard Norman had kicked flying didn't stay down. He rose from the wrecked seats he had crashed into, and from the look of him, Norman's kick hadn't done much to him at all.
There were only three Nen users in the entire Freak Show Troupe.
And among them, the two-headed girl Lisa wasn't good at fighting.
With just her and Norman, breaking through and escaping was practically impossible.
Maybe the only thing she could do now was create an opening for Norman—give him a chance to get out alive and make everything that happened here public.
The great Royal Glam Gas had actually stooped to something this vile.
Her hand searched briefly at her waist, and a new fishing line appeared in Abaki's grip.
In the process, her fingers brushed against the crumpled poster in her pocket—the poster of the person she still hadn't had a chance to meet.
Her fingers paused for the slightest instant.
The days she had spent training with Hisoka had been the period she cherished most in the troupe.
Too bad.
In the end, she still wouldn't get to see him.
And besides, she still hadn't figured out what she was supposed to say if she ever did.
Abaki's fingers moved deftly over the fishing rod, and the broken line and the new line were joined together as if by magic.
A hook hung at the end of the line. As she flicked it, it suddenly vanished into thin air.
Abaki stopped abruptly, closed her eyes, and quietly waited, feeling for something.
She looked exactly like a seasoned angler.
The moment Norman saw what she was doing, he moved to stand in front of her, shielding her with his tall body.
At the same time, the rest of the troupe reacted as well. With practiced motions, they pulled out various weapons from all around the stage—hidden there who knew since when.
It was as if this troupe, made up entirely of people with damaged or unusual bodies, had long since been prepared for battle.
It was just that none of them had expected the day would come when they would point those weapons at Royal Glam Gas itself—
the highest stage they had all admired, longed for, and dreamed of.
The excitement they had felt when they received the invitation, the nervousness before going on stage, the wholehearted performance they gave at their very best—
and in return, all they got were the contemptuous and greedy stares of the powerful.
This world really had rotted to the core.
The massive snow-beast man picked up a shield as huge as a door panel.
Wielding it, he charged in great strides toward the people trying to take their lives.
Gunfire rang out.
But the bullets weren't aimed at the snow-beast man—they were aimed at some of the others behind him, the ones whose body parts weren't even the targets.
And the snow-beast man's shield never came crashing down, because a security guard in a black suit caught it with one hand.
That single, simple movement turned all of the snow-beast man's effort into a joke.
The man in black suddenly exerted force with his thick arm. His suit sleeve burst apart, and with that overwhelming strength, he tore the shield right out of the snow-beast man's hands and swung it back toward his head.
The boss wanted the fur intact and beautiful, so knocking him out was the best option.
No blood would stain that filthy white pelt.
But his swing also stopped in midair, because another man of similar build—but with even more terrifying strength—intercepted the descending shield.
It was Ronin, who had used the Flying Thunder God Technique to appear inside the theater the instant the gunshots rang out.
There was no way Ronin was going to stand by and watch the Glam Gas family slaughter the troupe.
He hadn't rushed in earlier because he'd wanted to observe Abaki's and Norman's abilities first.
And now it was obvious Norman had a serious problem: conjuring those legs was one thing, but his fighting style leaned entirely toward Enhancement, which meant the power of his Conjuration had been dragged down by more than a full tier.
Otherwise, that explosive backward kick from earlier—if it had come from a proper Enhancer—would've left that guard half-dead, if not worse.
There was no way he should've been able to get right back into the fight like he had.
As for Abaki, Ronin still couldn't tell yet.
That mainly depended on what she managed to reel in with this cast. If she ended up pulling in nothing at all, that would be hilarious.
Ronin's sudden appearance drew a lot of eyes onto him.
But Ronin was sweeping his gaze across the entire theater.
He wanted to find the hidden Ryan, but after scanning everyone still present, he couldn't catch Ryan's aura anywhere.
Had he already left the theater?
The security guard who had been about to smash the snow-beast man unconscious with the shield made a rough judgment about Ronin's ability the moment he saw the way he appeared.
An Emitter.
After all, the entire theater had already been sealed off. At this point, not even a fly should've been able to get in easily, let alone a living person.
And yet Ronin had appeared out of nowhere and blocked his attack.
That meant there was only one possibility: he had left some sort of setup here in advance.
In other words, he had been in the audience earlier too.
But regardless of why he was here, he was dead today.
An Emitter—and a teleportation-type one at that—daring to fight him, an Enhancer, at close range?
That alone was enough to get himself killed.
With that thought, the man in black instantly released the shield.
Since you wasted that much aura trying to take it from me, then fine—have it.
As soon as he let go, he flashed forward and closed in on Ronin, driving a killing punch straight at him.
An Enhancer didn't need fancy tricks.
His fist was his strongest weapon.
But that strongest weapon misfired.
Because the fist hurtling toward Ronin was caught in Ronin's hand.
Then Ronin's grip tightened—
crack, crack, crack—
and a scream tore from the man in black's throat.
In that instant, he understood one thing.
The reason this supposed Emitter dared to engage an Enhancer like him in close combat was simple:
the man's aura reserve was unfathomably deep.
More precisely—
when it came to explosive output of active aura, Ronin completely crushed him.