The Strongest Assassin of the Zoldyck Family!

Boom!

The back of the truck exploded.

Someone—or rather, some thing—burst out from within. Not a person. Not a beast. Not even a recognizable creature.

It was a monster.

The moment they saw it, Shalnark's eyes widened involuntarily.

"What the hell is that?"

Pakunoda and Hooker turned to look too. Their expressions shifted immediately.

"What… is that thing?"

They echoed the exact same words, voices unsteady.

Ron narrowed his eyes.

What emerged looked like a massive lump of rotting flesh. Its form was grotesque, its skin a sickly yellow hue, mottled and stretched like overcooked fat. Two eyes sat awkwardly on its surface—one glowing with unnatural brightness, the other murky and clouded over.

It had no visible limbs. No arms, no legs. It moved by undulating, as though the entire mass was crawling forward under its own muscleless weight.

Yet it wasn't slow—quite the opposite.

The civilians fleeing from nearby buildings became its first targets. The monster surged toward them with frightening speed. As soon as it made contact, it engulfed them completely.

And each time it consumed someone, its body grew even larger.

To trap more prey, it shifted shape—stretching itself out into a thick, elongated wall of flesh, trying to seal off the entire block.

"Monster!"

"Help!"

"Run!"

Pakunoda and Hooker turned to Shalnark in desperation.

"Shalnark, what do we do?"

Shalnark shook his head grimly. "I don't know."

This thing—whatever it was—was beyond anything he'd ever seen. He knew their strength as a trio wasn't nearly enough. If they rushed in now, the outcome would be the same: they'd become fuel for it and be devoured as nothing but food.

The creature kept expanding, its body ballooning rapidly.

Then it made a bold move—stretching its body even thinner, it latched onto two buildings at once. Like a skin stretched tight, it climbed, slithering upward along the towers.

"It's… trying to swallow both buildings?"

Inside, Oster finally noticed the shift, but gave it only a glance. His expression remained calm.

The black-haired youth beside him looked on with clear disgust.

They were both Oster's creations, but the black-haired youth didn't see this monster as kin. If anything, he'd felt more aligned with the white-haired one—and that one's death had left him seething.

Now, with the buildings sealed and escape routes cut off, no one could get out.

Thick mucus oozed from the monster's surface.

Gunfire erupted from outside—but bullets had no effect.

Ron acted immediately. With a thought, Akame and Killer Queen appeared beside him.

But then he felt it—the Rotten Life Blade at his waist began to vibrate.

"It's finished evolving?"

His eyes lit up as he looked down at the weapon.

It seemed plain, almost dull in appearance. But that didn't matter. He gripped the hilt and poured aura into it.

A dim, eerie glow spread from the blade's surface.

In the next moment, the light shot forward—straight at the monster.

As it landed, countless white eggs appeared across the creature's body.

Crack.

The eggs split open.

White maggots spilled out, rapidly burrowing into the monster's flesh. They fed with vicious efficiency, consuming the monster's aura.

The creature writhed, its entire mass convulsing.

It tried to shake the insects off, but it failed even with the creature's surprising dexterity.

The maggots clung tightly to its skin, undeterred.

A high-pitched screech tore out from deep within the beast.

Ron watched closely. One of the maggots, having devoured enough aura, suddenly froze.

It cocooned.

A second later, a form burst free from the shell—no longer a maggot, but a cockroach.

Everything changed.

These cockroaches were faster, more voracious. Their ability to consume aura dwarfed the maggot's by orders of magnitude.

The monster's body began to weaken.

Without enough aura, it could no longer produce the mucous defense.

Ron nodded in satisfaction. "The Rotten Life Blade is a lot stronger now."

The weapon had gone through multiple stages—egg, maggot, and now cockroach. Each phase was more efficient than the last. Cockroaches consumed aura at a speed ten times greater than the earliest phase.

High-level Nen users might have ways to resist them.

But Ron never relied solely on the blade. It was never meant to be his main weapon—only a drain, a means to wear opponents down. While the insects did their work, he could attack from other angles—with projectiles, or with Nen beasts.

It was overwhelming to manage both—especially against Ron's layered assault.

Whether an enemy ignored the cockroaches or actively fought them, Ron's goal was the same: pressure and depletion.

This monster was terrifying in its own right. Its aura reserves were massive—greater even than Ron's.

But it had a flaw. Low intelligence. Simple mechanics. No tactics—just brute shape-shifting.

Against normal Nen users, that was enough. No wonder Shalnark had been so wary.

Even stronger fighters without special tools would have struggled.

But Rotten Life Blade's ability happened to counter it perfectly.

The creature was practically a feast—a nurturing ground for the cockroaches. As they gorged and multiplied, their numbers surged visibly.

The monster couldn't stop them. It had no methods to resist.

All it could do was flail helplessly as its aura was stripped away and its body rapidly shrank.

Boom!

It reached its limit—and exploded.

Chunks of flesh and blood were scattered everywhere.

But they weren't dead.

Each piece still pulsed with life, wriggling instinctively toward one another, trying to reconstitute.

Ron didn't stop them.

He let them gather. Allowed the mass to reform.

The result was a pile—much smaller than before, but still animate.

Without a word, Ron pulled out a container of gasoline.

He poured it over the remains.

Then, calmly, he tossed in a lit lighter.

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