The Strongest Assassin of the Zoldyck Family!

Hisoka was exactly that kind of person.

The moment he saw someone who could bring him a sense of surprise, he became interested.

Gon, Killua, Kurapika, Illumi, Ron, Chrollo...

Hisoka's actions were driven entirely by this kind of curiosity. Nearly everything he did was to chase that feeling of surprise—something he sought to experience through combat.

The strength and abilities displayed by the white-haired youth matched Hisoka's tastes perfectly.

"Interesting ability."

"To be able to fight Chrollo to that extent... that's impressive strength."

"Getting to fight this guy would be a great experience."

"Hopefully, I'll get the chance."

Hisoka stuck out his tongue and licked his lips.

Ron, watching through binoculars, raised an eyebrow.

"If I wasn't seeing things just now, that guy pulled out his own bones?"

"Used them as weapons?"

"But after pulling them out, his body immediately grew replacements."

The scene made Ron think of someone.

In the world of Naruto, there was a person named Kimimaro. Incredibly powerful, but ultimately died a tragic death. He held the advantage in fights against Naruto, Rock Lee, and Gaara, yet lost due to his own bloodline limit.

Kimimaro's life was defined by his Shikotsumyaku. It made him strong—so strong that Orochimaru took interest—but it was also what destroyed him. Without it, he would've died early in the civil unrest of Kirigakure, long before anyone cared. But with it, he lived long enough to become powerful, only to be consumed by it.

That power was both his blessing and his curse.

The unlimited proliferation of bone drained his life force at a staggering rate.

"I wonder if this test subject will have smilier side effects," Ron murmured, eyes sweeping across the battlefield.

"These guys are clearly stronger than the Six Herd I fought back then."

"But they're also fundamentally different."

"The Six Herd were natural Nen users."

"This biological experiment squad... they're all products of pure human experimentations."

"Still, being able to create such powerful test subjects through bio-experiments—even if it takes immense resources and the success rate is low…"

"These few might be one in ten thousand."

"But this proves Oster's experiment was a success."

It reminded Ron of Resident Evil.

Umbrella Corporation didn't originally set out to create zombies. Their true goal was the development of bioweapons—and a biological revolution in humanity.

Normal humans were simply too weak.

They extracted the Progenitor Virus from the Stairway to the Sun. Building on that, they developed the T-virus and G-virus branches.

Countless problems arose in the process. But the moment the Tyrant was created, it proved the T-virus had value.

Translating that into this world—if Oster's research were acquired by another human, there was little chance they'd bury it.

They would use it.

From the perspective of humanity's elite, this was a successful experiment.

As for the countless failed and discarded test subjects—no one cared about them.

"The bio-squad's strength is undeniable."

"But I'm not the same as I was back then."

"When I fought the Six Herd, I was an A-rank Nen user."

"I still am—but my total strength is something else entirely."

First, Ron had fully mastered the Conjured Sphere. And he had one nen weapon specifically for long-range fighting.

Second, the manga platform had boosted the popularity of Baki and Bungou Stray Dogs, which raised the power level of Natsu and Sasuke far beyond their earlier forms.

Third, the Gourmet Paradise journey and the appearance of the Nen Beast Erina provided Ron with significant feedback.

Fourth, after consuming large quantities of high-quality food, the "Gourmet Cells" within Ron granted him tremendous enhancements.

On top of that, Ron had acquired Rosgell—a humanoid nen construct. Even though its activation conditions were strict, it was still one of Ron's trump cards.

..........

The brute swung his fists furiously at Uvogin. The simple act of trading brute force thrilled him. Overwhelming his opponent with raw strength brought him immense satisfaction.

His suppressed violence was erupting.

But just as he swung again—this time, Uvogin didn't meet him head-on.

The moment the brute's fist came crashing in, Uvogin suddenly ducked low.

A figure stood behind him.

A blade of light swept just above Uvogin's head.

If Uvogin had crouched just a bit higher—if he had moved just a moment slower—or if Nobunaga had been a fraction quicker…

Then Nobunaga's blade would have struck him.

But it didn't.

The two had fought side by side for years. Saying they understood each other perfectly was no exaggeration. Their trust in one another was absolute.

"Battōjutsu!"

Nobunaga's sword came down on the brute's fist.

Clang!

A metallic crash rang out.

Then Nobunaga withdrew his blade.

A thin red line appeared across the brute's knuckle.

A moment later—

Splurt!

A torrent of blood gushed forth.

The brute was immensely strong—fast, powerful, and incredibly tough.

Until now, Nobunaga's strikes had failed to harm him.

But this was different.

This time, Nobunaga used Battōjutsu.

Using a tightly compressed, hypersensitive En, he sensed the enemy the moment they entered his field and struck—not randomly, but with precision, at the most effective spot.

When Nobunaga used Battōjutsu, the sharpness and force behind his sword were on a completely different level from ordinary strikes.

In a sense, it was a precision strike to a vulnerable point.

A fist isn't a vital spot, but even a fist has its weak areas.

The brute was injured.

Pain surged up his arm, twisting his expression into a snarl.

"Damn it!"

He roared in fury, glaring at Uvogin and Nobunaga.

Even more aura gathered in his fists.

Boom!

Uvogin was sent flying backward.

Nobunaga too was knocked back.

But neither was seriously hurt. Their movements had dissipated much of the impact.

They exchanged glances—and instantly understood each other.

"This works—keep it up."

Uvogin's eyes gleamed. He thumped his chest fiercely, excitement radiating off him like heat. He looked like a silverback gorilla that had just won mating rights.

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