Seeing the white line beneath his feet, Allen immediately realized he had stepped out of bounds. He looked up and asked, "What else did you add to that meteor besides Nen bullets? For it to generate such a powerful explosion and air pressure shockwave..."
"Sorry, that's a secret," Razor replied, grinning as he panted for breath.
It was evident that the previous strike had consumed a massive amount of Aura, leaving him looking somewhat exhausted.
"Fine. I know when I'm beaten. From this moment on, I am officially withdrawing from this game."
Allen tossed the ball back into the inner court with casual indifference, then turned and walked to the corner to sit with his other two teammates.
In any case, he had already measured the upper limits of Razor's strength and gained a general understanding of the average skill level of the Greed Island development team; there was no need to continue.
Furthermore, the card Plot of Beach held absolutely no value to him, as he had no intention of actually clearing the game. He decided to leave the rest to Gon and Killua.
After all, this was their game and their adventure.
"That Game Master is quite impressive, isn't he?" Bodoro asked in a low voice, his eyes fixed on Razor.
Allen nodded without hesitation. "Yeah. He's likely a tier above most of the combat members of the Phantom Troupe. Especially that last meteor he called 'Starfall'—it seemed to incorporate other properties. If you had taken it head-on, the instantaneous explosion, airflow, and shockwave would have certainly caused internal injuries. Additionally, those Nen bullets that scattered after the blast are a real pain to deal with."
"If I went all out, what would be the odds between him and me?" Bodoro asked, his face full of curiosity.
"Probably forty-sixty in his favor. I'm not entirely sure if Razor has any other trump cards, so his winning margin is slightly higher. But in a real fight, where variables like environment, emotion, experience, and tactics are all mixed together, it's hard to say who would come out on top. Also, did you notice his volleyball-style Nen bullet launch? It's a technique that saves energy while significantly increasing the projectile's speed, and every strike reinforces his palms with a specific amount of Aura," Allen analyzed nonchalantly.
Purely from the perspective of Aura capacity, Razor was definitely a step above Bodoro. However, Bodoro had his shield and equipment for support, along with forbidden techniques like burning his own life force; thus, the gap in Aura could be bridged.
The ensuing contest between the two would be a matter of Hatsu abilities, combat intuition, and technique.
Since one was an Enhancer and the other an Emitter, both types that specialized in direct, frontal confrontations, it would inevitably devolve into a war of attrition.
In other words, whoever could grit their teeth and endure until the end would be the victor.
"I wish I could have a match with him," Bodoro sighed with regret, his fists tightening. He knew, however, that such a thing was nearly impossible.
Just as Razor, Gon, Killua, and the others were enjoying themselves, a notification tone suddenly echoed throughout the stadium.
Instantly, everyone turned their gaze toward Allen, the source of the sound.
"Book!"
He immediately summoned his Binder and discovered that someone was using a Spell Card on him—Contact.
In the next second...
An incredibly arrogant voice transmitted through the Binder.
"Yo! Long time no see. Do you know who I am?"
"Let me guess... would you happen to be the Bomber Genthru?"
As he spoke, the corners of Allen's mouth curled into a faint, elegant arc.
Evidently, while he hadn't met Genthru in the game, the other man had clearly spotted him from a distance; otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to use a Contact card.
"Ah! It's good that you know. If I'm not mistaken, you and your team robbed Tsezguerra and his crew of all their cards, didn't you?" Genthru questioned bluntly.
Allen laughed and replied without a second thought, "That's right! All of Tsezguerra's cards are in my hands, including several of the 'limited' ones."
"Hahahaha! That's wonderful! In that case, would you be so kind as to hand over all those cards? That way, I won't have to rush over there and kill every last one of you!" Genthru threatened with a wild laugh.
It went without saying that he didn't view Allen's group as a threat at all, even if Allen had successfully defeated Genthiru's seasoned team.
"Kill every last one of us? You certainly talk a big game. I'm curious, just how do you plan to kill us? Come on then, we are currently in the port city of Soufrabi, and we're about to obtain Plot of Beach. If you have the guts." Allen directly gave away his team's location.
Rather than hunting for prey across the world, he much preferred waiting for the prey to deliver itself to his doorstep.
"Oh? Are you sure you want to do that? Abengane, Puhat, Nickes... if I recall correctly, these were the guys you allied with last time, right? Check your contact list, they are no longer in this world."
Genthru listed a string of names from a death toll with a cold sneer, attempting to use this method to incite panic and psychological pressure.
Unfortunately for him, Allen was not the type to be intimidated by such petty tricks. He let out a scoffing laugh. "Sorry, you've got two things wrong. First, it wasn't me who allied with those people; I didn't even attend that boring assembly. Second, a truly powerful Nen user, whether good or evil, doesn't brag about how many ants they've stepped on. So please, put away that disgusting 'nouveau riche' attitude. it only makes you look low-class and tedious."
"Fine! You've successfully pissed me off! Kid! I'm coming over there myself to slaughter you and your entire team!"
With that, Genthru immediately cut the connection.
For a moment, the entire indoor stadium fell into a dead silence.
Razor, as the Game Master, looked particularly awkward. He coughed twice, trying to force an explanation. "Ahem! You have to understand, many players have been in this game for years and have become somewhat out of touch with reality. That guy's statement doesn't represent the overall quality of players in Greed Island."
"Yeah! Yeah!"
"Exactly!"
"That's just an isolated case!"
The group of convicts hurried to nod in agreement.
They could hardly believe there was someone in the game so stupid as to actively provoke this terrifying monster.
Killua couldn't help but mutter under his breath, "Good grief... I'm actually starting to feel a little sorry for the Bomber. His end is going to be miserable!"
"Hehe, little brother, you certainly know your stuff," Baise said, smiling as she licked her alluring red lips.
"Of course! I've known Allen a lot longer than you. And... anyone who tries to provoke him never ends up well," Killua said, a hint of lingering fear in his voice.
This sentence clearly triggered a memory for Gon, who immediately shivered uncontrollably and nodded his head in frantic agreement.
"Stop the chatter! Let's go! Anyone not currently in the game, come with me to the entrance to greet our upcoming guests. As for the rest of you, continue the dodgeball match here. If I come back and find that you've lost, be prepared for 'Hell-style Special Training.' Trust me, that kind of despair and pain is ten times more terrifying than death."
After putting on a show of scaring the two kids, Allen took the lead and walked out.
"Don't lose! Otherwise, it really will be a fate worse than death!"
Without a doubt, the phrase "Hell-style Special Training" instantly stirred memories in Baise's mind that she never wanted to recall for the rest of her life; her voice even carried a slight tremor.
No one knew better than she did that "Hell-style Special Training" was not an exaggeration, it was a literal description.
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