"And don't forget," Franklin's voice was firm, "there was a powerful, mysterious figure nearby at that time. If he saw Kurapika trying to brainwash us, why would he kill Nobunaga instead?"
"Exactly." Shalnark crossed his arms, his usual calm demeanor tinged with skepticism. "Let's take a step back..."
Ronnel leaned forward, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "If we'd been brainwashed before you arrived, wouldn't we have already attacked the three of you at Hotel?"
His sharp gaze swept over the group. "Two strong brats, plus Machi, Phimks, Kortopi, and me—we could have ambushed you. Even without an ambush, head-on, in an open fight, you'd have no chance!"
Ronnel's words echoed through the room, drawing silence from Franklin, Shalnark, and Bonolenov.
For a moment, they hesitated. The logic was sound: if Machi and the others had truly been brainwashed, they would have attacked at the hotel, taking advantage of the chaos. Even Shalnark, usually the most rational of the group, had to admit the scenario was plausible.
But Feitan wasn't buying it.
"What did you just say?"
His voice was low, laced with venom. His eyes narrowed, dark with malice, as his hand shifted toward his weapon.
"You mean to tell me," Feitan growled, "that you'd win in a direct fight?"
The murderous intent was palpable now. Feitan's hooked fingers and the umbrella sword at his side made his intentions clear.
Ronnel met his gaze, unflinching. "Didn't we already fight once before? Have you forgotten the outcome of that battle?"
Without waiting for a response, Ronnel pressed on, his voice cutting through the tension.
"It was a crushing defeat. You weren't even close to my level. If we were truly fighting to the death, you'd be done in ten moves."
"Ten moves?!"
Feitan's restraint snapped. With a sharp hiss, he unsheathed his umbrella sword, pointing the blade at Ronnel.
"You think too highly of yourself. Care to test that theory now?"
The aura around Feitan flared dangerously, his weapon practically glowing with Nen.
Franklin and Lev exchanged worried glances, both stepping forward to intervene. But before they could act, Ronnel spoke again.
"Seems like you've been training hard," Ronnel remarked casually, his tone almost mocking. "I can tell your strength has improved."
Feitan said nothing, but the sharp glint in his eye revealed his competitive spirit. The crushing defeat he'd suffered in their previous encounter had haunted him. Months of grueling training had led to this moment, and he was ready to prove himself.
But Ronnel wasn't done.
"That said..." His expression shifted, becoming dead serious. "It's not enough."
The air seemed to thicken as an even greater wave of aura radiated from Ronnel. It crashed through the room, an overwhelming display of raw power.
"What... is this?!"
Machi and Phinks, closest to Ronnel, felt the full weight of his aura. Both instinctively tensed, their eyes wide in shock.
"He's even stronger than he was in the Republic of Padokea," Shalnark muttered, his usual calm shaken.
Phinks nodded, his voice low. "Feitan's progress surprised me, but this... Ronnel's on another level. His growth rate is insane."
Machi, watching silently, couldn't hide her unease.
"When I first met him in Heavens Arena, he was barely a blip on the radar... How did he get this strong in just two years?"
Even Franklin and Bonolenov, veterans of countless battles, were startled by the sheer intensity of Ronnel's aura.
"Is this the true strength of Ronnel?" Franklin murmured.
Killua and Gon, watching from the sidelines, could hardly breathe under the pressure. Ronnel's power was unlike anything they'd felt before.
For Killua, it was especially terrifying. He knew that if Ronnel's aura had been directed at him, his instincts—sharpened by years of training and the conditioning of his assassin family—would have forced him to flee.
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