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Chakra flowed back into Ronin's body the instant the Shadow Clone made contact.
It exploded the second it touched Theodore.
At the same time, fresh blasts ripped across the street—more suicide bombers detonating.
Ronin glanced over. Kurapika and the girls were still handling their side just fine, so he turned his full attention to the old man's corpse.
The post-mortem Nen had changed from what he remembered in the manga.
In the original story, when Chrollo stole Paired Destroyer, the marks stayed permanent once placed. But now? Anyone who touched Theodore's body exploded on the spot. The marks even reappeared on people who'd already been tagged earlier.
Ronin narrowed his eyes. He was willing to bet that just brushing against one of the marked corpses could pass the brand on like a plague.
This body was turning into one hell of a weapon.
A twitch of chakra threads and Owl materialized out of the Fun Fun Cloth, eyes already dead and glassy. The guy looked at Ronin like he was staring at the devil himself.
Ronin didn't give a damn. Another flick of the threads and Owl's body moved on its own, conjuring the massive cloth again.
The Fun Fun Cloth dropped over Theodore's corpse. The body shrank instantly, vanishing completely and leaving behind nothing but a small, neat bundle on the pavement.
Ronin stepped forward, scooped it up, and shoved it into his pocket like it was yesterday's takeout.
He shot Owl one last look. The terror on the man's face was almost funny. Ronin yanked the threads again and stuffed him back into a different cloth.
Even with Shizuku on the team now, he had zero intention of letting Owl go. The guy had spilled way too much useful dirt—stuff Ronin never would've known otherwise.
Like how the Ten Dons looked untouchable on paper. All ten major Mafia families across the six continents supposedly answered to them.
Reality? The five great nations—and especially a monster like Kakin—were completely outside their reach.
The Shadow Beasts were a mixed bag too. Different specialties, wildly varying strength. And a good chunk of them weren't even fully human. Sub-human types. Most of them came from Meteor City—discarded, unwanted, then picked up and weaponized.
The Ten Dons supplied connections and money. Meteor City supplied the meat.
Those sub-humans were usually cruel as hell, loved torture more than quick kills. Sick Dog and Leech hadn't shown up in Owl's memories, which meant they probably hadn't joined the Shadow Beasts yet.
Personnel turnover in that crew had to be insane.
The ones who had jumped Ronin earlier—Owl, Bat, Worm, Leech—were the familiar faces. If they somehow survived the next three years, they'd be the veterans. Stronger. Kurapika and Neon wouldn't have been able to clown them so easily.
But none of that was the main point. Ronin wanted to know where the sub-humans were concentrated. Under which Elder? Or were they spread out?
So far he hadn't seen a single one since stepping foot in Meteor City.
The fight on Kurapika's side wrapped up fast.
Even after Theodore's death Nen reactivated Paired Destroyer on every remaining bomber, the strategy stayed simple once they realized the explosions:
Don't let them get close.
These fanatics were still just normal humans underneath the rags. A Nen-enhanced pebble flicked with Shu could cave their skulls. Kurapika's chains made it even easier—snagging every charging body and slinging them ten meters away before they could detonate.
The only downside was the mess. A few got too close before they died and painted Kurapika and Neon in blood and gore.
Good thing Shizuku was there.
The second the last bomber dropped, Blinky came out. On Shizuku's flat command, every drop of blood, chunk of meat, and random splatter got vacuumed right off their clothes.
By the time the three walked back over, they looked fresh as if nothing had happened.
The car was toast, but that actually worked in their favor. On foot with Shizuku leading, they could slip through the alleys and keep a lower profile.
While Ronin's group headed toward Ryan's villa, one of the Meteor City Elders finally got Chrollo on the line.
Chrollo had already left Southpiece.
The deeper he dug into the Kurta Clan, the more convinced he became that the reclusive tribe was anything but ordinary.
The "Red-Eyed Demon Apostles" rumor wasn't just local to Southpiece. It kept popping up in other cities too—always linking the scarlet eyes to actual demons.
He hadn't found solid proof of any "divine artifact," but plenty of people swore the Kurtas guarded a demonic relic from another world.
Demon deals were common folklore everywhere, even in Meteor City. Chrollo had heard stories of people selling their souls for unbeatable power.
He'd tracked one of them down once. The man's ability really did feel… off. Different from normal Nen.
But it could still be explained by Nen. The "demon's blessing" simply gave the user a second, external power—at a price most humans couldn't even imagine.
The guy Chrollo met? After activating the ability he turned into a writhing flesh-worm monster. That was just the physical side effect. The real cost was his soul. It no longer belonged to him.
Live as a devil, die and get devoured by one.
That was the core of any demon pact. Most people were too greedy or too broken to care about the fine print. They just wanted the rush of revenge or power for one glorious moment.
So… had Ronin made a deal with a demon?
Chrollo still couldn't tell. But whether it was a divine artifact or a demon's bargain, the price Ronin was paying had to be monstrous.
At first he'd had zero interest in the Meteor City Elder's request.
Then he saw the file on Shizuku Murasaki.
And suddenly… he was very interested.