Chapter 40: Departure
"So, will you come to Mordin City with me?" Ronin asked, changing the subject.
"I don't recall agreeing to that. I only said we could continue our partnership," Miria shrugged. "If you need to rent Nen, you're always welcome to find me. And if you actually manage to control a Mafia Don, I wouldn't mind collaborating and offering technical or professional support. But Heavens Arena is my base of operations."
"Is that so? Fair enough," Ronin paused, then nodded.
Even if Miria hadn't appeared in the tunnel, Ronin had contingency plans to escape alive.
But she did show up. He owed her for that.
Regardless of whether her motivation was purely profit, that act of intervention solidified their relationship.
Ronin now considered Miria a trustworthy friend—at least, as much as one could be in this world.
"A pity. If that kid in the tunnel had actually attacked, I could have earned 2 Billion Jenny."
The speaker was a young man with a bowl cut.
His name was Mashur, a partner of the mercenary group. Unlike the support staff who fired the suppressing shots, Mashur was a combat specialist.
Naturally, his fee was astronomical.
He had tagged along with the mercenaries just to make some extra cash on the side.
He was surprised by how shrewd Ronin was. The contract had tiered pricing: 2 Billion for a kill, 200 Million for intimidation.
Ronin had even provided intel on Shalnark's abilities beforehand. Mashur was tempted by the 2 Billion.
But after receiving intel from Muherr, he decided not to engage and settled for the easy 200 Million.
Looking at the deposit notification, Mashur was satisfied.
Muherr was the leader of the mercenary group—the "elf-eared" sniper who had pinned down Machi.
"Usamen, I made money off your referral fee. Next time, remind me to raise the price," Muherr said coolly.
"You didn't bring Golem, so this price is fair," Usamen, the man with the V-shaped hair, shrugged. "Besides, we didn't need to kill anyone. Just stalling for time."
"Stalling is fine. But what if those mad dogs come looking for revenge?" Muherr glared at Usamen. He still felt underpaid for crossing the Phantom Troupe.
"Fine, fine. I get it," Usamen thought for a moment. It wasn't his money anyway; it all depended on his employer, Ronin.
Does Heavens Arena really generate that much cash? Usamen wondered, fingering a business card in his pocket.
It read: Miria, Golden Agent of Heavens Arena.
After coordinating with Ronin, Miria left his room. Ronin finally had time to tend to his injuries.
Opening the Eight Gates and using the Primary Lotus had taken a toll on his body.
However, as an Enhancer, these minor muscle tears would heal completely within a few days of rest.
He didn't plan to stay in Heavens Arena any longer.
Three days after the fight, Ronin returned the rented aura to the Rental Demon. Once the debt was settled, he quietly slipped out of the city.
As he left, Miria launched a massive PR campaign, spreading the news of his battle with Uvogin throughout the arena.
Killua, having successfully cleared the 190th floor, saw the ubiquitous advertisements.
Holding a poster featuring Ronin's dazzling smile, Killua smirked. Show-off.
He crumpled the poster and tossed it into a trash can.
Killua packed his luggage (mostly boxes of Chocolate Robots). It was time to leave the place he had called home for two years.
According to his jerk brother Illumi, he "wasn't ready" for the 200th floor yet.
Although he didn't understand why, he had to return to Kukuroo Mountain with Illumi.
Next up was probably more live combat assassination training.
Boring.
It was a shame he couldn't challenge Ronin again. But next time they met, Killua swore he would be stronger.
I'll challenge you then!
In the advanced medical facility on the 150th floor of Heavens Arena, Uvogin finally woke up.
He was wrapped head to toe in bandages. One arm had been amputated. Severe burns covered large swathes of his body, requiring extensive recovery time.
More importantly, waking up seemed to trigger a severe trauma response.
He developed an extreme aversion to fire.
Even a spark from a lighter caused the crippled giant to leap from his bed in a rage, ignoring his injuries.
"I found something," Shalnark said. He had run a network cable into the hospital room so he could browse the Hunter Website while keeping an eye on Uvogin.
"About Ronin?" Machi asked from the window, tossing an apple in her hand.
Nobunaga and Franklin weren't in the room; they had gone outside to smoke, knowing a lit cigarette would send Uvogin into a frenzy.
At the mention of Ronin, Uvogin sat bolt upright, his eyes burning with intense killing intent.
"No," Shalnark glared at Machi for triggering the patient. "I found a way that might restore Uvogin to normal."
"Regrow a severed arm?" Machi asked skeptically.
"Yeah," Shalnark nodded. "It's hard to verify the intel, but it's worth a shot. Desperate times call for desperate measures."
"What is it?" Uvogin demanded from the bed.
"Have you ever heard of Greed Island?" Shalnark asked slowly.
Before Uvogin could answer, Shalnark's phone rang.
It was Chrollo.
"Send me Ronin's file," Chrollo said concisely.
"Will do," Shalnark replied just as briefly. He understood the implication immediately. Ronin had officially caught the Boss's attention.
It made sense.
A Nen ability of that caliber was a prime target for Skill Hunter.
It was a pity Chrollo had been occupied chasing another lead earlier. If the Boss had been here, Ronin wouldn't have escaped, no matter how prepared he was.
Next time. Next time, we catch him for sure.
Shalnark compiled Ronin's data and sent it to Chrollo. He also organized the spectator footage of the fight, though they would have to watch it together later.
Reflecting on the battle at Heavens Arena, Ronin realized a misconception he had held.
He had equated Jutsu Rank with Power.
But in reality, Rank only indicated the difficulty of learning and performing the technique, not necessarily its destructive output.
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