"Cheethu, sir! Cheethu, sir!" Just as Cheetu and the Troupe were about to throw down, several voices came from another exit in the ruins. A crab and a kangaroo—two division captains—arrived.
"Strong Nen!" As the two division captains showed up, the Troupe sized up their strength. The conclusion: the opponents were very strong. Even if they won, they'd likely be injured. Add in this unknown, ultra-fast cheetah, and once a fight started, casualties among the Troupe were possible.
"Honestly, Cheetu, sir, you ran way too fast. You didn't even wait for us underlings," the kangaroo grumbled, hopping.
"Hahaha, you two are just too slow," Cheetu laughed it off. "Besides, if I'd come with you, this one would've died, right?" He shook Zazan on his shoulder as he spoke.
"Huh? Who's this big lizard? Weren't we ordered by the King to rescue Lady Zazan? Where is she? Don't tell me these humans killed her? Uwaa—" The crab division captain burst into loud sobs.
"Quit crying, you idiot! Isn't the one on my shoulder Zazan?" Cheetu was helpless in the face of his two goofball subordinates—one a crybaby, the other hyperactive.
"Huh? Huh? Huh! Cheetu, sir, you're saying this ugly big lizard is the beautiful Lady Zazan?" The kangaroo bounced around Cheetu, inspecting Zazan, even poking her with a fingertip. "Are you freaking kidding me?" he suddenly roared in a voice entirely unlike before—rough and booming.
Cheetu was deeply pained. Ahhh, is this hyperactive one actually split personality too? He'd rushed ahead specifically because he couldn't stand these two clowns. Now that they'd arrived, he had more confidence about dealing with those powerful humans—but he still couldn't stand them. What happened to division captains' awe for squadron leaders? What a mess.
Compared to Cheetu's headache, Zazan on his shoulder wanted to cry. Not only had a bunch of inexplicable humans broken into her palace, they wiped out all her subordinates, and she herself had nearly been finished off by a little shorty. She'd transformed into this ugly form, and, worst of all, an old comrade had seen it, rescued her, and was now carrying her, swaying her around—she was wounded; swing her a bit more and she'd hurl even if she wasn't injured. Even a division captain was mocking her now. Utter humiliation. Just hours ago she'd been the Queen here, with a crowd of flunkies serving her. The rise and fall of life, indeed.
"Hey, you guys over there—done chatting yet?" Phinks was very unhappy with the ants who had just started gabbing among themselves.
"From the start it's been jabber jabber jabber—do you think the Phantom Troupe doesn't exist?"
"Ah? Looks like we have to fight after all." Cheetu casually tossed Zazan to the still-crying crab, making him fumble, then rolled his shoulders. "So, are you all coming at once?"
"What's with this arrogant guy? I'll kill you!" "Let me teach him a lesson." "Wait, looks like Feitan lost; I'm up next, right?"
"You bastards, I haven't been beaten!" Bare-chested, Feitan roared at the others. "Someone like this—"
"Feitan, you're not his match right now." Phinks gripped his shoulder, cutting him off with a grave look. "Your arm and body are banged up, and that move you used just now put a heavy load on you. I hate to admit it, but this guy isn't on the same level as the last one. One slip and you might lose your life. I don't want to be out shopping for a new member after you get killed." Phinks was, indeed, the Troupe member closest to Feitan. If it were anyone else, Feitan might have forced himself to fight.
"...Fine. Don't get yourself killed," Feitan said coolly, turning away.
"Shalnark, told you—he was bluffing. He's got little stamina left. Looks like I win," Phinks murmured as Feitan walked out.
"Ah, Phinks, he can hear you." "Don't change the subject. Pay up—you lost the bet."
"You two bastards! I'll kill you!" Feitan, rampaging.
While the others bickered, the bandage-wrapped Bonolenov stepped up to Cheetu. He had won the coin flip earlier—meaning after Feitan stepped down, he was next.
"Oh~ so you're my opponent. You really aren't going to all come at once? If it's one-on-one, I might just kill you, you know. (=?ω?=)" Under the reddish hair, his plain eyes turned razor sharp.
"Kill me? You've got nerve," Bonolenov said as his bandages unraveled strip by strip, revealing his body.
Holes. Yes—Bonolenov's body, from limbs to face and neck, was covered with dense wind-holes of varying sizes. He was from the minority tribe Gyudondondo. The men there, alongside circumcision at age three, had small pins inserted all over their bodies; as they grew, the pins were replaced with thicker wooden pegs to keep the holes. They were "dance warriors," warriors of dance. As adults, those wind-holes produced sounds as their movements changed. Whether in ritual or battling beasts, they played music with their bodies to spur themselves on. They believed the more beautiful the music, the stronger they'd become; the greatest dance warriors would be godlike. Bonolenov was one of the best—though the tribe had apparently been wiped out. In other words, he might be the last of them. For anyone with trypophobia, it was a nightmare.
"Ah! Ah! This is—this is so interesting!" Cheetu clapped, because instead of attacking, Bonolenov twisted and swayed; a strange yet beautiful sound flowed from his body.
As the music reached its climax, Bonolenov began to spin faster and faster, his body blurring.
"Battle Cantabile! Overture!" A figure in an odd grass skirt, carrying a long spear and wearing a tribal mask, burst forth, the spear lunging straight at the entranced Cheetu.
"Yikes! Close one, close one." Patting his chest and hopping left, Cheetu slipped past the fierce strike. He said "close," but judging by how relaxed he was, there was nothing close about it—this level of attack was easy for him to dodge.
"Sheesh ╮(╯▽╰)╭ is that all your ability does? Weak punch—but the tune's nice. Are all human Nen abilities costume changes? You are, and that shorty earlier also put on an outfit—" Cheetu cranked his aggro-drawing to max.
"I'm going to kill him." The word "shorty" had reached Feitan. "Bonolenov, stop playing. Kill him, or I'm going back in."
"Are you kidding me, you loser! I'm next," Phinks. "Say that again—I'll kill you!" Feitan. "Okay, okay, both of you, cool it," Shalnark.
"Well? Any other tricks? Use them—I want to see." Ignoring the Troupe's clowning, Cheetu started taunting Bonolenov.
"You think a dance warrior has only that one strike? The real fight is just beginning." Bonolenov ignored the taunt and kept dancing; the strange music rose again.
As the tempo surged, his attacks came faster and faster.
"Battle Cantabile! Charge!" "Battle Cantabile! Thrust!" "Battle Cantabile! Advance!" With the music, Cheetu realized his body felt a bit sluggish.
"Tsk tsk, looks like your music affects my consciousness." Even so, Cheetu's expression stayed easy. That level of interference was still within his tolerance.
"Only noticing now? Too late. You're pretty strong, and quick. But I spotted your weakness—same as the one I dealt with earlier. Die to the same move—the most fitting death for ant vermin." A never-before-heard strain rose from Bonolenov; powerful Nen burst from his body.
"Battle Cantabile! Jupiter!" Above Cheetu's head appeared a massive "planet"—layer upon layer of sound waves. Few could survive this strike.
"Even if you're very fast, you can't outrun sound!" The giant planet-like mass slammed down toward Cheetu's position. Bonolenov's voice boomed from within it.
"Amazing technique—but did you say I can't outrun sound?" Cheetu looked up at the huge "planet," the corner of his mouth lifting with confidence.
"Die, filthy ant!" With a colossal roar, a super-sized crater opened where Cheetu had been—several times larger than the one made when Bonolenov killed the pufferfish division captain.
"Heh, that was my full-power strike. Pitiful ant!" Bonolenov turned away with confidence, not even looking at the pit. Real men don't look back at explosions.
"Bonolenov, you idiot—move! You didn't kill him!" The shout came from Feitan. Others might not know Cheetu's speed, but Feitan had some sense of it. Anyone who could save the "Queen" within his "Sun" and vanish—wasn't joking around.
"What? It's impossible to survive my Jupiter!" Bonolenov spun back toward the pit—only to see a crater and no remains.
"Heh. Maybe no one can endure that move—but what if it didn't hit?" A whisper sounded by his ear—Cheetu's voice. When had he gotten behind him?
"In Sprint Mode, I can break the sound barrier. Got you, little mouse."
As Bonolenov turned by reflex, what greeted him were powerful cheetah claws—sliding easily into his body.
"Careless…" was Bonolenov's final thought before losing consciousness.
(End of Chapter)
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