Chapter 153: Feitan's Choice
Feitan dropped into a defensive stance.
Ronin's follow-up punch slammed into Feitan's crossed forearms, the force
carving long furrows into the earth beneath the Spider's boots.
Feitan's arms went numb.
Above them, the sky was a battlefield of thermodynamics. The white-hot fire and
absolute-zero ice were neutralizing each other in a chaotic, vaporous explosion.
While the air remained frigid, the falling embers from the fireball prevented
further frostbite. A few snowflakes drifted down—a minor nuisance for Nen users.
If you like high temperatures, Ronin thought, I'll give you a proper sun.
Feitan's rage was boiling. Being knocked back like a child had pushed his pride
past the breaking point. His aura erupted, surging to new, jagged heights.
Ronin wasn't interested in a fair trade. He wasn't going to let Feitan finish
his "charging" phase.
Amenotokotachi triggered again, locking the space around Feitan's head and neck.
Simultaneously, Amaterasu ignited on the ground beneath the Spider's feet,
racing up his legs.
But Feitan's armor was reactive. The white sections of his suit flared crimson,
the Transmuted aura properties shifting to counteract the heat. For a moment,
the black flames were held at bay, unable to pierce the specialized barrier.
They fed on the external aura radiating from the suit, but the man inside
remained untouched.
Good fuel, Ronin noted.
The sheer volume of Feitan's aura provided a near-infinite propellant for the
Amaterasu.
Ronin closed the distance instantly. This time, he didn't use a physical strike.
The Susanoo manifested in all its terrifying, skeletal glory. The massive hand,
wreathed in blood-red Chakra, reached for the burning Spider.
Feitan, head immobilized, couldn't look around, but his hands moved by instinct.
He reached up, trying to claw at the invisible wall around his head.
He discovered that the space was as solid as reinforced steel. He couldn't even
slip a finger between his skin and the stasis field.
That effort cost Ronin a spike in Ocular Power. He felt a sharp throb behind his
left eye as the stasis resisted Feitan's strength.
In that millisecond of distraction, the Susanoo's hand closed around Feitan like
a cage.
Ronin deactivated the stasis. The giant hand yanked Feitan into the air,
ascending toward the canopy before slamming him back into the earth with
bone-shattering force.
It was the "Hulk vs. Loki" maneuver. Ronin used the Susanoo to ragdoll the
Spider, repeatedly pounding him into the craters until the ground itself turned
to powder.
The armor held against the fire, but the concussive shock of the impacts was
bypass-damage. Feitan coughed up a thick spray of blood inside his mask.
Rage and trauma hit their peak.
But Feitan had no more surprises left.
A trickle of blood escaped Ronin's left eye, but he ignored it. The vision was
blurry, but his spirit was sharp.
The Susanoo dissolved. Feitan lay in the center of the wreckage, the black
flames finally beginning to lick at his exposed neck as his aura flickered.
The Ice Moon above shattered, its energy spent. The forest returned to a deathly
silence.
Drops of meltwater fell from the singed trees. Beyond the clearing, the insects
and birds were silent—likely frozen to death during the initial sub-zero burst.
Ronin stepped forward, looking down at the broken figure in the Gothic suit.
"You lost, trash."
The simple insult drew another fountain of blood from Feitan's throat.
He struggled to rise, but his body refused to obey.
The fire-resistant suit was a shield, not a healer. It kept him from burning,
but it couldn't mend the shattered ribs or the internal hemorrhaging caused by
the Susanoo's pummeling.
Before the armor manifested, Ronin's initial punch had already dealt
catastrophic damage. Feitan had welcomed it, hoping to power up his Hatsu for a
one-shot kill.
But the Ice Moon failed. The Sun never rose. And the Susanoo had broken his
physical foundation.
He had lost. Completely. Utterly. In his own domain of one-on-one combat, he had
been crushed like an amateur.
Shalnark was right, Feitan thought, his vision fading. Avoiding this fight was
the only winning move.
But it was against his nature.
He had never cared about the safety of his comrades during a Hatsu activation,
which made him the ultimate solo Spider. Now, that solitude was his grave.
Even if he survived today, he knew the gap would only grow. Chrollo's analysis
of Ronin's growth rate was clear: the boy was a god in the making.
Feitan squinted, looking past the black flames at the blue sky through the
canopy. A nice day to die, he thought with a trace of his characteristic irony.
He didn't give Ronin the satisfaction of more insults. He deactivated his armor.
The moment the Nen shield vanished, the Amaterasu fell onto his bare flesh.
This is what Bonolenov felt? Feitan mused. I hope Ronin burns just as bright one
day.
"Is it hot?" Ronin asked, his voice a persistent, annoying drone.
"Hard to breathe when your throat is melting, isn't it?"
"Run away if you can. If you can still move your legs, that is."
"Use that legendary pride of yours to escape. Go on."
The taunts were a relentless, high-pitched ringing in Feitan's ears. In his
final moments, the "Saint of Torture" was subjected to the most irritating
psychological assault Ronin could muster.
"I'll see you in hell!" Feitan rasped, his final scream echoing through the
woods.
The white-hot intensity of the Amaterasu erased Feitan from existence. Not even
ash remained on the forest floor.
However, Ronin's palm was not empty.
He held a scrap of Feitan's flesh, torn from his chest during a previous melee
exchange.
He had a use for it. If he ever mastered the Reanimation Jutsu (Edo Tensei), he
wanted a loyal, narrow-eyed assassin in his pocket.
Ronin sealed the sample in a prepared scroll and stretched his aching muscles.
He looked at the scorched patch of earth and shook his head with a mock sigh.
He had hoped his taunts would trigger a massive Post-Mortem Nen curse. But
Feitan had simply given up at the end, realizing the impossibility of victory.
"Book!"
He pulled an [Accompany] card from his Binder.
"Target: Shizuku!"
Ronin was enveloped in a pillar of light, streaking across the island like a
falling star.
Meanwhile, in another part of the forest.
Shizuku had landed and immediately summoned Blinky.
She was met by Phinks, whose heavy boot slammed into the vacuum's crossbar
before she could even steady her stance.
The force sent Shizuku skidding backward, her heels digging into the dirt. Her
expression didn't change; she used the vacuum as a shield, absorbing the shock
of Phinks' relentless follow-up strikes.
Suddenly, a fishing hook materialized out of thin air in front of Phinks,
whipping toward his jugular.
Phinks' eyes sharpened. He halted his charge and snatched the line behind the
hook. With a roar of effort, he yanked the line away before the steel could bite
into his neck.
But as he parried the hook, a pink-haired girl appeared behind him.
Neon, her fountain pen wreathed in dark aura, lunged for Phinks' lower back.
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