The Nen user of the Mingbo Republic didn't need his teammates' warning, he was already running the moment Oboro finished speaking. Every instinct screamed that the suited man would target him first, if only because he was the closest.
He sprinted with everything he had, weaving between trees and using the terrain to his advantage. But after only a few steps, he heard it, the whisper of the wind behind him. Fear spread across his face as panic set in. He tried to turn, to launch a desperate counterattack against the approaching Reaper, but his body had barely turned halfway around when it happened. In an instant, he lost his balance and crashed to the ground.
Blood and gore painted his vision. Before he could even follow Oboro's movement, it was over. Half of his body had exploded, as if hit by heavy machinery. Through blood-clouded eyes, he caught a glimpse of his killer's back as Oboro lunged at his female teammate, hands stained crimson.
Not even in the same league," flashed through his mind as his gaze met the scarred captain's. Unable to speak, he poured everything into that last look: 'Run! While he's busy with us, run! With your ability, you can make it!
The captain's face, tight with paralysis, understood. His eyes burned red with rage, but he held his ground. He didn't chase after Oboro, he couldn't keep up with their speed and agility. All he could do was watch as his companions were slaughtered.
The moment Oboro had appeared, the balance of power had completely shifted.
Clenching his jaw, the paralyzed captain channeled Nen into his legs and fled in the opposite direction, quickly becoming a mere dot on the horizon.
Oboro had already approached the woman with the whip. Shock painted her features as she realized that her captain had left her. She redirected her attacks, the whip cutting through the air again and again towards Oboro. But no matter how fast she struck, she only hit afterimages, never connecting with his actual body.
In a heartbeat, those cold eyes were in front of her. A dark shadow flashed, and with a sharp crack, the woman's head twisted a full 180 degrees. She collapsed, dead before she hit the ground, unable to put up even a token resistance.
Menqi watched the scene with eerie calm. She'd already measured Oboro's strength, and the team had become somewhat desensitized to his displays of power. Even his most impressive feats barely raised an eyebrow. She tucked away her kitchen knife and dropped from her position, looking toward where the scarred man had disappeared. "He got away."
"He won't escape," Oboro said calmly. "First, take her somewhere hidden. We can't be sure there aren't other forces lying in wait."
"Understood." Menqi nodded.
The ghost mist undulated like streams of fire, flowing toward the scarred man's escape route.
[Scene Pause]
Deep in the forest, Steve, the man with the scar, fled as scenes replayed in his turbulent mind. Enhancement type? No, while the destructive power of the Nen Ability matched that of an Enhancer, its characteristics suggested something else entirely. This went beyond mere physical conditioning.
That kick had nearly shattered his 'toughness'. Despite his combat experience, despite the fact that he had noticed the entry, despite everything, Oboro's attack hadn't left even a fraction of a second for defense or counterattack. Every instinctive movement, every reflexive reaction had been read and countered immediately.
"Damn it!" Steve cursed. Their team had disastrously underestimated the suit's fighting ability. The other five were negligible garbage, really, but why? Why would someone of his caliber lead such an amateur team?
Steve's breathing suddenly became labored. His feet dug trenches in the ground as he came to a stop, leaving deep furrows in the earth. Looking up, he saw a familiar figure emerge from the shadows ahead.
'Him!'
Steve's pupils narrowed. Somehow, Oboro had not only caught up, but had circled ahead to cut him off, despite Steve's head start and full speed.
"I assumed your three teams would not risk a conflict with us in the restricted area," Oboro said, advancing with measured steps. "After all, your goal is the resources of the ruins. But people think differently, plan differently. From your actions, you must be the least successful team of the three. You thought killing us would buy you more time, didn't you?"
"Our ambush was perfect, even you didn't realize it!" Steve's fists clenched. He knew there was no escape now. This was going to be the fight of his life.
"You're right. Your skill is undeniable," Oboro said. "You've met the other two groups, haven't you? Give me the information I need and I'll let you go."
"Save these childish lies! I'm not a rookie!" Steve sneered and lunged at Oboro.
His fists carried tremendous power yet moved with blinding speed, incorporating a 'variation' effect. Though Oboro dodged most of the direct blows in their melee, some of the blows grazed him. Each contact created a palm-sized electronic display above Oboro's head, a scoring machine. Each blow registered different scores, ranging from 700 to over 900.
"Interesting" It took Oboro only a few seconds to analyze the ability. The numbers represented the power of each punch, with 1000 being the maximum. Steve was able to select and fix a value, ensuring that his blows would maintain that exact level of power without degradation. A terrifying ability, most fighters couldn't maintain a consistent power output, and combining the locked maximum power with enhancement techniques would overwhelm ordinary opponents.
The key was to accumulate points. But Oboro was anything but ordinary, and Steve couldn't maintain his advantage. After two minutes of intense combat, Oboro's punch sent Steve bouncing off the ground. He jumped up like a grasshopper, creating distance as he spat blood. The screen above showed 948, Steve's highest reading before he disappeared. His Nen power nearly doubled in an instant.
"The real battle begins now!" Steve's fists clenched, battle-hungry. But Oboro had grown strangely quiet, watching him with an unnatural calm.
"It's over," Oboro said quietly.
Steve's face drained of color. He clutched his chest and fell to his knees, mouth agape, unable to breathe. He stared at the approaching Oboro, confused, uncomprehending.
Ghost mist writhed outside Oboro's body, occasionally letting out spine-chilling wails that made it impossible to concentrate. Steve assumed that was Oboro's ability.
"I destroyed your lung tissue a minute ago," Oboro explained. "You were too focused on the fight to notice, partly because of the adrenaline and partly because I severed certain sensory nerves. If you had noticed earlier, you might have recovered. Now it's too late."
Oboro lifted Steve's twitching body, pupils dilated from lack of oxygen, and walked away. The melee had been just a misdirection, acupressure points and pulse manipulation were his real weapons. He had to hurry; the fallen souls and the black mist would soon dissipate if not collected.