The short breather was over. The next wave of violence hit like a freight train.
Susanoo's massive hand rose again and slammed down toward Hisoka. Ronin stayed safe inside the glowing crimson ribcage.
His hands flew through seals. Phoenix Flower Technique. Fireballs streaked out from under Susanoo's protection, scorching every last strand of Hisoka's aura still clinging to the arena floor.
Hisoka's magician's cloth kept darting ahead of him, testing the space before every move. It gave him huge openings, but that same hand—camouflaged by Texture Surprise to look perfectly fine—kept firing fresh threads of Bungee Gum onto the ground. When things got tight, those elastic strands yanked him into explosive bursts of speed.
Susanoo's raw power was overwhelming. Hisoka couldn't block a direct hit without getting wrecked. But the attack speed wasn't blistering, so Hisoka could still dance around it and stay in the fight.
That changed the second the Phoenix Flower barrage joined the party.
The flames wouldn't kill Hisoka outright if they grazed him, but they torched his Bungee Gum threads on contact, burning them away in seconds.
Without those rubbery springs boosting his movement, Susanoo's crushing blows became impossible to dodge for long.
The referee's voice kept cutting through the chaos.
By the time both of Hisoka's arms hung limp at his sides, his body drenched in sweat and blood, the referee finally blew the whistle.
T.K.O.
Susanoo had landed enough clean, heavy hits to rack up a full ten-point lead.
During the frenzy Hisoka had gone all-in once—pouring everything into a desperate counter. He'd twisted Bungee Gum around a cluster of arena stones, reinforced them with Ko, then stretched and snapped the strands for maximum explosive force. The whole package rocketed straight at Ronin inside Susanoo.
It actually cracked the crimson armor. Tiny fractures spider-webbed across the ribs protecting Ronin's front.
But that was it. No clean breakthrough. The attack never reached Ronin himself.
Still, the fact that Hisoka could damage Susanoo at all caught Ronin off guard. Part of it was because this was still the early-stage Susanoo. Part of it was that Ronin had deliberately held back some chakra output to keep the fight going longer instead of dumping everything into max power.
A full-power Susanoo would've laughed that strike off.
Even so, that last desperate shot had been the absolute peak of what Hisoka could do right now.
And Hisoka could tell Ronin had been sandbagging the whole time—otherwise he never would've been allowed to wind up that big attack.
From the moment Susanoo appeared, the fight had only one real question: could Hisoka somehow outlast Ronin's chakra? The answer was obviously no. Ronin's massive aura reserves were more than enough to carry him to victory.
When the referee's whistle finally sounded, Ronin's forehead was slick with sweat and his eyes felt heavy with fatigue. But compared to Hisoka, he looked fresh.
Hisoka simply dropped onto his back on the arena floor. He stared up at the ceiling, chest heaving, but his eyes were burning with pure excitement.
He'd lost.
He'd lost fair and square. Right now, he genuinely couldn't break Ronin's defense.
But next time? He'd find the way. He just needed to get stronger—way stronger.
"You can hang around a minute," Ronin said, walking over. "Once I wrap up some stuff, I'll fix that arm for you. I don't want our next fight to be against a cripple."
Susanoo had already vanished, but Ronin's eyes stayed in full Mangekyō mode.
He'd known from the start that beating Hisoka wasn't the real danger. The real danger was what might come after—most likely a Zoldyck ambush. One wrong move and he'd trigger Flying Thunder God and vanish.
Hisoka didn't play coy. He sat up.
"You're strong," he said, voice low and rough. "I spent a lot of time prepping for today, but it still wasn't enough. You've got more tricks than I do."
Ronin gave a small smile. "You were preparing. So was I."
He'd taken this fight seriously from the jump. Hisoka was no joke—he'd known that since their first clash. The way the guy used Texture Surprise to hide his aura had even slipped past the Sharingan for a second. If Hisoka could actually damage Susanoo, the fight would've forced Ronin to pull out even more cards.
Hisoka grinned back. "I'll challenge you again. Hope you'll still accept."
Ronin answered without hesitation, tone cocky as hell. "I'd love to tell you that you'll never get the chance—because while you're getting stronger, I'll be pulling ahead even faster. The gap between us is only gonna keep widening. But sure, I'll take your next challenge. Just make sure you bring something that actually surprises me next time."
"Arrogant bastard," Hisoka laughed, but deep down he knew Ronin wasn't bluffing. If the guy kept improving at this pace, the gap really would stretch forever.
Still, Hisoka wasn't about to roll over. This fight hadn't been a total loss. His own abilities still had room to evolve.
Ronin didn't reply. His head tilted up toward the stands.
Through the Sharingan he spotted it: a tiny drone the size of a bee drifting slowly toward him. Unless you were looking hard, it was easy to miss—pure machine, no aura at all.
To Ronin's enhanced dynamic vision, its "slow" approach looked almost lazy.
A chubby face popped into his mind.
Milluki Zoldyck. The Zoldyck second son. The one obsessed with computers, games, and building bombs.
Boom!
The bee-drone never got too close. It detonated right above the arena floor.
The flash of fire yanked everyone's attention.
At the exact same instant, a short, ghostly figure materialized behind Ronin like a shadow. A skeletal, skin-and-bones hand shot straight toward his back, aiming for the heart.