The battle between the Nen abilities was never complicated, but the different techniques led to different fighting styles. Oboro had always focused on hand-to-hand combat and physical strength. Anyone who could survive the Dark Continent and return unharmed had to have extraordinary resilience.
Fancy nen abilities were useless against creatures at the level of the Ant King. It wasn't that Nen skills weren't important, on the contrary, both skills and body were crucial and couldn't be neglected. However, many Nen users tended to ignore their physical training and relied too much on their abilities.
Snap! Oboro crossed his arms in front of his chest, the terrifying power and heat causing his fingertips to leave white trails in the air. The ferocious attack seemed ready to tear Netero to pieces.
But the old man raised an arm to block, and Oboro's fingers sliced into his skin, drawing blood. In an instant, Netero's fist slammed into Oboro's stomach with enough force to nearly shatter his Nen defenses. Oboro flew back, his feet leaving the ground, only to disappear from view before landing.
It was just a still from one of their countless sparring matches. Netero disappeared as well, bursts of displaced air exploding in different directions as the two collided.
Oboro materialized behind Netero and launched a powerful blow, but the white-haired master arrived first. He turned, face impassive, and unleashed a blow of his own. Their fists collided with bone-crunching impact, sending pain through Oboro's arm.
His expression unchanged, Oboro drew back, the fingers of his free hand brushing Netero's elbow, a seemingly inconsequential touch that caused the old man to narrow his eyes. It wasn't the first time Oboro had used a feint to make contact, always with minimal force.
Netero knew that his opponent wouldn't do something so senseless without a reason. There had to be more to it. As Oboro drew back, taking a deep breath to deal with the pain in his arm, Netero suppressed his power to match Oboro's in aura, intensity, muscle control, everything except two crucial aspects:
Experience and Nen type. As an Enhancer, Netero had the advantage over a Conjurer like Oboro in raw attack power. Those were gaps that couldn't be closed. Of course, the old master also had his weaknesses, rustiness from lack of challenging fights and uncertainty about Oboro's full abilities.
Their last fights had begun to change that. Only in the last ten days, Netero's aura had shifted, his eyes had gained a sharper gleam. Another point in Oboro's favor was that Netero didn't know his full arsenal.
Since this wasn't a contest of Nen's abilities, Oboro was willing to test his newest technique, a special skill the system recommended him to practice. It was still unrefined, but if it worked on Netero, it would become a future trump card to rival his breathing exercises.
The two attacked simultaneously, the damage from their blows heavy, but Netero clearly had the upper hand. Minutes later, Oboro dodged, drenched in sweat, while Netero's breathing became more labored. Despite the difference in injuries, Oboro was in worse shape, having expended more nen defending himself.
"Looks like you're going to lose again," Netero laughed, noting Oboro's exhaustion.
"Never assume victory or defeat until the last moment," Oboro countered, sweat dripping from his face. "You should know this better than anyone."
They clashed again, trading blows with savage intensity. When they parted, Netero spoke between heavy breaths. "How many more times can you attack? Your ankle must be under immense strain. Admit defeat and save us both the trouble."
"You seem to enjoy bullying me," Oboro replied, lunging forward in a half-crouch. His knife hand arched at an odd angle toward Netero's neck.
"You've slowed down," Netero said calmly, raising his arm to block.
"Being slow won't stop me." Oboro's words were soft but insistent.
The next second, Netero's eyes widened as numbness shot through his arm. In that moment of lost focus, Oboro's knife hand struck mercilessly at the weak spot on his neck.
Netero shuddered as if electrocuted, saliva spurting from his mouth in shock, but Oboro pressed his advantage. Two fingers like sharpened nails stabbed at the old man's eyes.
Suddenly, Oboro turned pale and jumped back as Netero's killing intent poured out, the ground shaking under the pressure. At the critical moment, Netero's unconscious defenses stripped him of his restraint.
Despite the impossibility of actually harming the Master's eyes, Oboro's determination and hostility forced this base reaction. Netero covered his neck, a childish look of reluctance on his face. "You are truly merciless."
Composing himself, he sighed. "Fine. You win."
"What do you mean? If you were a real enemy, you'd be blind. I was testing you with a deadly blow and you would have fallen."
Netero examined his recovering hand. "Fascinating technique, cutting off the circulation and affecting the nerves?"
"Under normal circumstances you would have lost."
"Trickery? Real fights don't follow such rules."
Oboro leaned back, exhausted and sarcastic. Netero countered by pretending to take a phone call and storming off. Oboro could only shake his head at the old man's childishness in refusing to admit defeat.