Boom!
Kacha!
The sound of a devastating strike echoed through the battlefield. A fist imbued with incredible Nen energy smashed into the towering bone demon's head, shattering it with a resounding crack. Fragments of bone scattered like snowflakes, cascading to the ground as the body followed, collapsing into a heap of brittle remains.
Ging stood amidst the chaos, his expression calm but resolute. He had used considerable force this time, leaving no trace of the enemy's central structure. In a place like this—an eerie domain dominated by the Sonata of Darkness's twisted power—half-measures were a liability. To prevent a potential resurgence, Ging knew he had to annihilate the enemy entirely, leaving no chance for them to regroup.
"So," Ging said, his voice echoing confidently, "why don't you all come at me at once? Whether you drown me in numbers or I finish you all off, it'll save us some time." He glanced at Overlord, the bony overlord perched atop his sinister throne. "Besides, it's your best option. If you send them one by one, I'll just keep recovering between fights. At that point, it'd be pointless, don't you think?"
Overlord's skeletal visage twisted into a grimace. He looked at Ging, then at the shattered remains of his subordinate. Silence filled the air for a tense moment before his raspy voice broke it.
"All at once," Overlord commanded, raising his arms dramatically.
At his signal, the bone demons surged forth like a tide from the jagged mountain of remains they had formed. Dozens, if not hundreds, of undead monsters rushed toward Ging with frightening speed.
"I'll admit," Overlord sneered, "your strength and recovery abilities are remarkable. But no matter how powerful you are, you can't resist this many opponents. You'll exhaust yourself eventually. The moment you falter, even for an instant, my minions will tear you apart."
The overlord's bony grin widened. "Their sacrifice is worth it. With the power of the Sonata of Darkness in my grasp, I'll revive them and return to the human world. Victory is inevitable."
Ging, however, didn't seem fazed. In fact, his eyes lit up with excitement as the horde closed in.
"Finally! It's about to get interesting," he muttered, cracking his knuckles.
From the perimeter, Ronnel's voice rang out. "Need a hand?" His gaze shifted to Overlord's throne, sharp and focused. Something about the overlord's calm demeanor unsettled him, as if there was a hidden danger waiting to strike.
"Not yet," Ging replied casually, his enthusiasm unmistakable. He began stripping off his outer layers—a scarf, a hat, and other accessories—and bundled them into a large cloth ball. "Hold onto these for me."
He tossed the bundle to Ronnel, who caught it with an audible groan.
"Ugh, it stinks!" he complained, quickly stuffing the bundle into his bag to escape the pungent odor.
Ging only laughed, raising a middle finger before turning his attention back to the incoming wave of enemies. Completely surrounded, he remained composed, stretching his arms and legs as if warming up for a workout.
"Show me what your Nen can do, Ging!" Ronnel called out, watching from a nearby ridge. He couldn't help but smirk, intrigued by Ging's unshakable confidence.
Ging grinned, his voice carrying over the din. "Nen's important, sure. But if you rely on it too much, you neglect your physical conditioning. And…" His eyes gleamed with fiery determination. "I'm still young! If I lean on Nen too much now, what happens when I'm old?"
With that, he lunged into the fray, his fists blazing with energy as he began dismantling the horde with brutal efficiency. Each strike sent bones flying, and his movements were a blur of precision and power. It was like watching a master craftsman at work—except this craft involved pulverizing undead.
Ronnel couldn't help but chuckle. "Old age, huh? Reminds me of someone." His mind drifted to Netero, the legendary chairman of the Hunter Association.
"Netero in his prime versus the Ant King…" Ronnel murmured to himself, shaking his head. "It's just not possible, is it?"
But then, an idea sparked in his mind—a memory from Greed Island. The Witch's Rejuvenation Potion. A card that could restore physical youth at the cost of a year per pill.
"If Netero used that…" Ronnel's eyes widened as he considered the implications. "Could he return to his peak? Could he… truly fight the Ant King at full strength?"
For a moment, the battlefield faded from his thoughts, replaced by the tantalizing possibility of what might have been.
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