But she wasn't weak, either.
In a one-on-one duel, not many could guarantee beating Machi outright:
Chrollo, Feitan, Uvogin, Phinks—these four could defeat her.
As for the No. 8, Bonolenov, Franklin, and Shalnark, any match with Machi could go either way.
Kortop, and Pakunoda, on the other hand, were definitely below her.
Nobunaga was special. His ability was extremely one-sided; if he dragged someone into his forte, hardly anyone in the Troupe could defeat him. But getting to that point wasn't easy.
Now Machi had given Ron such an assessment. And Machi's intuition was widely respected within the Troupe.
Didn't that mean Ron's strength was already mid-level among them? Yet he was only twelve.
"That kid is really that strong?" Phinks looked skeptical.
"I ran into him before too, but he didn't seem impressive. Faced with those weak monsters, he kept backing off, and he didn't even dare go after the Scarlet Eyes."
Machi shook her head.
"That was because he was hiding his abilities. When all of you were fighting the Kurta Clan, I paid a bit of attention to Ron. He didn't seem interested in the Scarlet Eyes."
"Not interested? Then why'd he even come?"
Franklin interrupted:
"Ron's ability would indeed be useful to the Troupe. We don't have any Nen Beast–type users. They could bring a lot to the table in certain situations.
But there's an issue: would Ron even want to join? Someone with his level of talent definitely didn't appear out of nowhere. He must have backing. Otherwise, who taught him Nen techniques? It's unlikely he'd just say yes because we asked."
Nobunaga cast Franklin a displeased look.
"Franklin, that's not what I like to hear. Since when is joining our Troupe something shameful? We're a free group. If he won't join, that's simple enough—we just force him until he agrees."
Just then, another voice broke in.
"I don't think that's going to happen."
Kortop, who'd been in the corner, raised a hand.
"That old man vanished at the end and took two people with him—Sheila and Ron. If nothing unexpected happened, they're probably both dead by now."
Silence descended for a while—less for Ron's sake, more for Sheila's. Even though Sheila never officially joined, she had once been part of their circle, and she was Sarasa's closest friend. After all, the Troupe only existed as it did because of Sarasa.
"Sheila sold out the Kurta Clan's location. The old man must have realized it," someone said quietly. "So in his final moments, he took her. Even if Sheila died, I doubt she'd regret it. This was her own choice."
"All right—forget Ron for now. Whether he's alive or not, we haven't lost any of our own, so we don't need more members. Still, Shalnark, good work."
Shalnark simply nodded.
As the Troupe's logistician, he had to account for possible casualties. If someone died, new blood would need to be recruited. That was Shalnark's role, and nobody minded it.
Nobunaga, Uvogin, Phinks, Feitan, Bonolenov—they all accepted the risk of death as part of their lives. Having killed so many people themselves, they felt it only fair that someone might kill them one day.
Back at Heaven's Arena, Ron applied for a Floor Master challenge match. He'd chosen a C-level Floor Master—someone around the middle of that group's power scale. Although the arena did have a few A- and B-level Floor Masters, they were scarce; most were C or D level.
Match day arrived. Both fighters stepped into the ring. The stands were packed, and the announcer had spent half an hour building hype, yet no one was restless. A Floor Master challenge was far more exciting than a typical bout.
Ron's opponent—Andreu—studied him with a grim face.
"Ron, why'd you pick me? I know you're pretty good, but I'm not the weakest Floor Master. You could've picked an easier target. Aren't you afraid of failing and wasting your shot? Becoming a Floor Master earns you way more than any normal competitor past the 200th floor."
"You just happen to fit my needs."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Exactly what I said. You're at a level I'm sure I can beat, yet you're also recognized by enough people that once I defeat you, the rest will have a clearer view of my ability. Then I won't have challengers lining up right after. That's too annoying—I've got other things to do."
Andreu's expression twisted in rage.
"You think you can beat me?"
"That's why I chose you. As a Nen user, gathering intel before a fight is normal, right?" Ron's gaze flicked toward the referee. "Shall we start?"
"Tch, fine—so be it, kid. Don't come crying later. Today, I'm gonna teach you some respect for your elders, and for real power!"
Both turned to the referee, who signaled the match to begin, then hurried off.
In the crowd sat Nina, Shizuku, Mistie, and Sally, side by side. Not far away were Sadaso and Killua. In yet another corner, a young man in red clothing watched quietly.
Andreu lunged at Ron.
A silhouette appeared beside Ron—Hanma Baki.
To handle someone of Andreu's level, Hanma Baki alone was enough. Right off the bat, Baki unleashed violent attacks. Activating the "Demon Back," he dashed like a cockroach, launching a flurry of strikes that left Andreu with no chance to counterattack. He couldn't even find an opening; all he could do was defend desperately.