The moment the attack ended,
Maxwell's composure shattered completely.
"Kill that!"
He shouted, his voice cracking as he pointed at Conrad with a trembling finger.
"Kill that! Kill him!"
His face had gone red, veins bulging along his neck.
People like Maxwell, men who built their lives on fear, money, and the illusion of untouchable authority, could tolerate many things, but being humbled was not one of them.
Especially not in front of a subordinate.
Especially not when it happened so easily.
Even though the attack had been blocked, even though he still lived, the fact remained: Conrad had struck him first.
Conrad had forced him to stumble, to fall back, to feel powerless for a fraction of a second.
Narcissists and sociopaths most of the time could not handle such things with understanding.
Conrad ignored Maxwell completely.
His eyes moved instead to the middle-aged woman standing between them.
She had not flinched.
That alone told Conrad a great deal.
He smiled faintly.
"Your shield was created through emission."
The woman raised an eyebrow, clearly interested.
"It didn't materialize cleanly enough to be conjuration,"
Conrad continued, gesturing subtly with one hand.
"No structural definition, no persistent form. And it lacked the adaptive qualities of transmutation—no alteration, no reactive property."
He looked directly at her now.
"That leaves emission."
Maxwell stared at the woman, then back at Conrad, his confusion only adding to his rage.
"If you weren't an emitter," Conrad went on, "you wouldn't have been able to block that attack at all."
Of course, this was just saying. People who are not emitters may have abilities and applications of Nen that may defend them from the White Death Orb attack, but they are rare; either they are using a defensive ability that is particularly strong or they have a lot of aura that overwhelms Conrad himself more than he would expect.
He did not say the rest out loud.
Whatever that shield was, he thought, it wasn't a simple aura shield.
A basic emission barrier raw aura shaped into a wall would have shattered instantly against the White Death Orb. Of course, if it was created by a monster like Meruem, things may be different, as Meruem was also an emitter.
But Meruem was the exception, not the rule at all.
Conrad knew that better than anyone; other than monsters like Meruem and Alluka (Nanika), there are not many simple defensive abilities that can stop White Death Bolt.
Restrictions are woven into the ability to dramatically raise its defensive output, likely at the cost of flexibility or repeated use.
A shield meant not to dominate a battlefield but to protect something precious.
Or someone.
The woman's lips curved upward into a small smile.
"You're perceptive," she said and added, "And confident."
She tilted her head slightly, studying him in return.
"But that also tells me something about you," she continued. "That orb of yours has limitations."
Conrad remained silent.
"If it didn't, you wouldn't stop after a single shot. You'd keep attacking until the target was dead."
Her eyes flicked briefly toward Maxwell, then back to Conrad.
"That tells me you can't."
Conrad's smile widened just a fraction.
He said nothing at first, letting the silence stretch.
Letting her words hang in the air.
Then he spoke.
"In the end," Conrad said quietly, "I'm not the one forced to fight and protect at the same time."
The woman's eyes narrowed slightly.
"You are," he continued, his tone calm but razor-sharp. "You need to fight me and protect that lowlife simultaneously."
The word "lowlife" landed like a slap.
Maxwell exploded.
"Who do you think you are?!" he screamed. "You little—!"
"Silence," the woman snapped without even looking at him.
Maxwell froze instantly, choking on his words.
His face twisted with humiliation, but fear won out over pride.
The woman exhaled slowly.
Conrad's words had struck deeper than she cared to admit.
Because they were true.
Every movement she made from now on would be split offense divided by defense, attention fractured between Conrad's next attack and Maxwell's survival.
Conrad, on the other hand, was free.
And he knew it.
She looked at Conrad again, this time without amusement.
"You're confident for someone standing alone," she said.
Conrad met her gaze, unblinking.
"I wouldn't be here otherwise."
Of course, Conrad did not say that other than Anisa, he had another nen user helping him.
In most cases, oversharing information is something amateurs do and would give their enemies a chance to find any kind of information to take them out.
Conrad was an amateur in terms of battle experience; at least outside of the battles of Heaven's Arena, he was not that great.
But, one thing he was not was a fool, and he watched a lot of movies.
If there is a purpose, one needs to focus on that; talking too much and oversharing are just foolish actions.
Of course, if there was a purpose behind the oversharing, things would be different, such as psychological manipulation and so on.