The Thinker Moro

As soon as the woman with the long ponytail admitted defeat, the referee immediately announced the result.

The referee then took out a device resembling a card reader and printed a paper pass for the winner to advance to a higher floor.

"2792, although the registration information you filled out lists your fighting experience as zero, based on your performance in this match, I believe you can advance directly to the 50th floor. This is your pass to the 50th floor. Please keep it safe."

As he spoke, the referee held out the slip of paper to Moro.

Every referee had a different method of judgment.

Judging solely by the techniques displayed in the match, the referee of Arena C would have determined that Moro should advance to the 20th floor, while the woman with the long ponytail would have gone to the 50th.

But based on the outcome, the woman with the long ponytail had essentially stood no chance against Moro.

The referee of Arena C believed the result mattered more than the process, so he stopped referring to the registration information and directly ruled that Moro could advance to the 50th floor.

Yet despite the referee's rather favorable ruling, Moro did not take the slip. Instead, he asked tentatively, "Mr. Referee, may I choose to advance to the 10th floor instead?"

"Of course. That is your right."

The referee nodded.

Heaven's Arena held at least two thousand preliminary matches every day, and among so many contestants, there would always be people like Moro who, for one reason or another, chose to fight their way up slowly.

There was nothing unusual about that.

Moro smiled. "Then please give me a pass to the 10th floor."

"Please wait a moment."

The referee promptly printed a new slip for Moro.

"Thank you."

Moro took the slip and turned to walk off the arena.

On the way from the arena to the passageway, Moro could feel many gazes directed at him from all directions. One of them belonged to the woman with the long ponytail who had just surrendered.

But he did not care. He walked straight into the passageway and then headed up to the 10th floor of Heaven's Arena.

Rather than rushing to register his advancement eligibility at the counter, Moro entered an elevator and casually pressed the button for the 15th floor.

A moment later.

Moro arrived on the 15th floor. Following the directional markings on the wall, he casually entered one of the rooms.

At that moment.

A match was underway on the central arena inside the room.

Only a handful of spectators were scattered throughout the seats surrounding the arena.

Heaven's Arena had 251 floors. Floors such as 11 through 19 and 21 through 29 generally had match venues equipped with arenas, along with comprehensive service facilities.

A billion spectators bought tickets to watch matches every year, but for the audience, fights on the lower floors clearly lacked appeal.

No staff even stopped Moro or checked his ticket when he entered.

After finding a seat in the stands, Moro watched the match in the arena.

The two fighters were extremely aggressive in their attacks.

Yet they had no structure whatsoever, relying entirely on their physical conditioning to throw forceful punches and powerful kicks.

Moro left after watching for less than a minute.

Compared to the two fighters he had seen earlier who specialized in lethal martial arts, as well as the long-ponytailed woman who had fought him, the two contestants in the arena now looked like street thugs brawling.

Yet these two contestants had advanced to the 10th floor, while that nimble long-ponytailed woman had lost her preliminary match after encountering him. As for the fighter with exceptional leg techniques, he had died directly in the arena.

All he could say was that life was unpredictable.

And more sadly...

Moro saw his own shadow in those two fighters who looked like street thugs brawling.

Fortunately, he still had a chance to change.

After leaving the match room and stepping into the corridor, Moro was filled with emotion.

He continued to wonder—

If these martial artists, who had poured more than ten or twenty years of effort and dedication into the path of training, suddenly came into contact with the power known as Nen, would they despair upon realizing how much time they had wasted?

A few minutes later.

Moro returned to the 10th floor to register his advancement, then immediately chose to begin his next match.

Below the 200th floor, contestants could fight two matches a day.

Naturally, contestants who were confident and wanted to climb quickly chose to fight both matches.

Moro stayed in the contestants' lounge for a while before soon being assigned to a match at Arena B on the 17th floor.

Heaven's Arena was remarkably efficient at matching opponents.

It could be said that the countless arenas within this tower-like building operated like gears every day, never stopping.

Every second of the daytime saw victories and defeats decided in the arenas.

On his way to Arena B on the 17th floor, Moro found himself thinking with some amusement...

If there were some cheat ability that made one stronger by absorbing the "desire to win," then staying in Heaven's Arena for a while would surely let someone emerge in an invincible state.

But Moro then thought that even if someone emerged invincible, a single calm sentence from the "wish-granting machine"—Go die—would turn them into a puddle of flesh.

In a sense, this world had its own absurd side.

Just like how he had, like a time assassin, fortunately gained a chance to start over under the influence of some ability phenomenon.

Moro soon arrived at Arena B on the 17th floor and met his opponent for this match: a man built as powerfully as a bear.

Hmm, this was worth looking forward to.

That was what Moro thought.

However, once the referee announced the start, Moro was disappointed.

His opponent was powerful, but he was also the standard type with nothing but brute strength.

Still, Moro did not end the fight quickly. Instead, during their exchange, he observed his opponent's habits when exerting force, as well as the underlying thoughts attached to his methods of attack.

The defensive power brought by Nen allowed him to think calmly in the arena.

He did not think this was meaningless.

On the contrary, he believed the power of "thinking" was important.

It was just that he was still a novice in this regard and could not precisely bring that power into play during battle.

So he could only accumulate experience through this clumsy method, gradually increasing the speed of his thinking...

Just before the three-minute mark.

Moro made his move. With a casual palm strike, he sent his powerful opponent flying out of the arena.

The battle ended in an instant.

Seeing this, the referee printed Moro an advancement pass with some surprise.

As usual, Moro offered his thanks before leaving the match room.

Every opponent he observed in battle, and every instance of thought in the arena, was like adding information to a database.

Then, once there was enough information, the habit born from thinking would be able to swiftly and efficiently provide the correct decision in battle, like AI retrieving information.

Moro was not sure whether this path was right.

The reason he had begun doing this was merely because Biscuit had once mentioned a combat ability in the original work—

The instantaneous explosive power of thought.

Over the following days, Moro steadily advanced in this manner.

By the time he had fought his way to the 80th floor, many spectators had noticed that there was something special about him.

Gradually, he gained a nickname in Heaven's Arena.

Little Five the Thinker...

Oh, no.

The Thinker Moro.