Suit Thug

A week later, Heavens Arena, inside an arena on the forty-ninth floor, the crowd roared with excitement.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Let's welcome our next two contestants with a round of applause... They are the recently unstoppable 'Working Knight,' Oboro, who has achieved thirty-three consecutive victories without a single defeat, and our veteran fighter, who has held firm between the fortieth and fiftieth floors of the arena—the 'Wind Walker,' Yousi, Gail Yousi!"

A white-haired old man shouted passionately, his voice booming through the hall over the microphone and stirring wave-like cheers from the stands.

"First up... contestant Oboro... That's right, as always, he is dressed in his knightly armor: a white shirt, simple suit pants, and leather shoes. Let me explain to our viewers at home: contestant Oboro registered at Heavens Arena less than ten days ago, yet he has already achieved a terrifying leap in rank. Every opponent he has faced has failed to last a single move. With an average match time of two seconds, he has broken the record held by Heavens Arena since its founding."

"Can he continue his miracle today... Let us wait and see!"

"It is worth mentioning that contestant Oboro apparently used to be an ordinary office worker who came to Heavens Arena in pursuit of prize money! Recently, any match involving him has drawn huge crowds, proving just how popular he is! Most of his supporters and fans are men, and office workers themselves... According to our prior survey, contestant Oboro has brought a unique flair to the ring. Office workers see him as a spiritual leader and treat him as an idol... That is why he earned the nickname Working Knight."

"..."

Oboro slowly stepped into the ring, his expression calm.

He could no longer be bothered to complain internally.

At first, he fought one match a day, then two, then three... As his victories piled up, the rules allowed him to apply to challenge higher floors. His ability to end matches instantly had also caught the attention of executives and certain spectators...

Besides, in the original story, after a match ended, the referee assigned floors according to a fighter's strength. Gon and Killua, for example, had been sent directly to the fiftieth floor.

Oboro had not received that treatment. Not just him—most fighters had not.

They could only apply for higher floors themselves.

The current Heavens Arena still had rules that differed somewhat from those eight years later.

Once a fresh face like him displayed overwhelming ability, they received "promotion." At the same time... the higher the floor, the greater the exposure.

It seemed there were local television broadcasts starting from the twentieth floor...

Put bluntly, Heavens Arena was deliberately pushing him.

Still... Oboro had never expected such a lame nickname as Working Knight, nor did he know where the rumor that he was an office worker had come from.

The story kept getting more outrageous...

Lately, whenever he appeared, people had indeed begun asking for his autograph. Well... they were all fellow men.

"Newbie... Your winning streak ends here. I watched recordings of your matches... Although... cough, cough, cough, I couldn't really see anything from them... But you need to understand that none of your previous opponents were anyone noteworthy... I'm different. I've maintained my place in the rings around the fiftieth floor without being eliminated..."

Across from him, the slick-haired and powdered Wind Walker, Gail Yousi, pointed at Oboro and spoke with high spirits.

The man was dressed nothing like a fighter. He looked more like a playboy.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah... I get it."

Oboro had no interest in listening to him ramble. Nearly every opponent he encountered liked to spout a line or two before the fight began. He had no idea why.

"You!"

Seeing how arrogant Oboro was, veins bulged on the young master's forehead.

"Let's begin."

Oboro looked toward the referee.

Beep...

The whistle sounded.

With both hands in his pockets, Oboro stood still.

Yousi, meanwhile, sprang backward like a grasshopper.

Then he began darting around Oboro, shifting from side to side, flipping and rolling with incredible agility.

"It's contestant Yousi's footwork... His famous signature technique! As everyone knows, contestant Yousi is extremely fast and possesses outstanding reflexes. He specializes in defensive counterattacks. His previous opponents were often defeated the instant their attacks missed, when he found an opening!"

"What should Oboro do! How will he respond?"

the announcer cried.

"Three seconds... Three seconds have passed... Contestant Yousi has successfully dragged the match into its fourth second!"

"Hahaha... How about that? I'm not one of those clumsy idiots. As long as you can't catch me, you can forget about winning! Even if you attack, I can react—Bang!"

The young master had only bragged for a moment before his words were cut short. Suddenly, his vision went black.

Then Oboro casually pulled one hand from his pocket, raised his fist, and struck the bridge of the man's nose with perfect precision.

At that moment, the sound of bone cracking rang out.

Yousi's face was instantly ruined. Blood sprayed from his mouth, mixed with several shattered teeth...

He spun several times through the air before crashing beneath the ring, his limbs limp and his fate unknown.

"Tch... Can't you be a little quieter...?"

Oboro coolly shook his hand, muttered a complaint, slipped it back into his pocket, and strolled toward the edge of the ring.

Boom! Then the entire venue erupted.

"Woooooo!!"

The announcer let out a long cry. "The same familiar scene, the same familiar feeling... The winner is still contestant Oboro! He continues his legend... Just who can stop this terrifying newcomer..."

"Knight!"

"Knight!"

A unified chant also rose from the stands.

It was Oboro's fan club—a group of single corporate drones.

"No... This title needs to be changed."

Before returning to his lounge through the passageway, Oboro heard the cheers that seemed ready to shatter the ceiling and frowned.

"Let us welcome the 'Suit Thug'... contestant Oboro!!"

The next day, after he submitted a request to the department supervisor, the announcer changed the wording when introducing him.

This match, he was still just going through the motions.

The low-floor arenas could not stir his interest.

In terms of pure physical strength and attributes, there were few opponents who could catch his eye.

With such low physical strength, there was even less chance they could display any combat techniques or martial arts worth his attention...

And so, Oboro fought his way through opponent after opponent, racking up wins like mad.

To draw traffic, Heavens Arena's officials fashioned him into an almost "legendary" figure and spared no effort in promoting him... As for the rules, they gave him special treatment as well, allowing Oboro to challenge higher floors.

Climbing one floor at a time was neither exciting nor suspenseful to spectators.

For example, jumping directly from the seventieth floor to the hundredth floor meant the fighters would undoubtedly be on an entirely different level. Whether Oboro could continue his winning streak then would be a real question.

Heavens Arena had accurately grasped what the audience wanted...

Within half a month, Oboro had shot up to the one hundred fiftieth floor like a rocket, something unprecedented.

His daily schedule was packed, and virtually every match involving him was sold out.

The name Suit Thug had completely taken off.

It solved one of Oboro's concerns... At least he was no longer called Working Knight.

But after reaching the one hundred fiftieth floor, Heavens Arena changed its approach toward him... The opponents arranged for him were all the strongest fighters on their respective floors. They hyped the matches heavily in advance, multiplied ticket prices several times over, and scheduled his bouts during prime time. He only fought one match a day now, with no additional matches added.

The following day, in the luxurious suite where Oboro lived alone.

Arena staff brought him information about his next opponent.

Oboro was now Heavens Arena's biggest star... Even the posters displayed in the lobby and the footage shown on television focused mainly on him.

"Thank you."

Oboro accepted the file.

The staff member nodded and turned to leave.

After the person left, Oboro casually tossed the file onto the table, uninterested.

After all, in the original story, Killua and Gon had respectively used a hand chop and a palm thrust to defeat opponents below the one hundred eightieth floor... The sensation they caused had been no less than Oboro's current one.

Of course, that was not to say Heavens Arena's fighters were weak. It was because the two protagonists had already become quite powerful by then.

More terrifying still... were the two kids' talent and plot armor.

Oboro stretched and prepared to grab his clothes and head out... During this period, aside from his matches, he had also been looking into famous local casinos and betting information related to himself.

Because he had kept winning, his odds had become frighteningly low. There was barely any profit to be made.

Oboro had no intention of becoming the house yet.

"Hm?"

Just as he finished thinking that and was about to leave, the corner of his eye caught sight of a profile sheet that had fallen from the file onto the floor.

A photograph and a name were attached to the white paper.

Wing!

Oboro's expression changed slightly. He picked up the paper and examined it closely.

The young man in the photo wore glasses and a loose shirt, with a warm smile on his face.

The profile stated that he had fought his way up floor by floor, taking more than three months in total. Before the hundredth floor, his matches ended very quickly. Beyond the hundredth floor, however, he seemed to struggle a little. He had even suffered a loss on the one hundred forty-ninth floor. After reaching the one hundred fiftieth floor, he stopped advancing... and took on challengers as the reigning fighter.

Clearly, he was another dark horse. He simply was not as violent as Oboro, constantly one-shotting his opponents... He lacked spectacle, so... Heavens Arena had not promoted him into stardom.

Countless fighters poured into Heavens Arena every day... There were also plenty who maintained winning streaks. Unless someone could dominate every match like Oboro... it was simply too difficult to stand out alone.

Besides, although Oboro was famous now, Heavens Arena was the cradle of martial fighters. The ones who truly received attention were still the top powerhouses... the experts above the two hundredth floor. They were the real "stars."

Oboro could only be considered a phenomenon-level newcomer.

"So it really is him!"

A moment later, Oboro put down the paper. His eyes shone as he tossed aside the clothes already in his hand.

He was not going out anymore.

Wing... Biscuit's disciple, the one who taught Gon and Killua Nen.

He was also a disciple of the Nen school, Shingen-ryu.

"After reaching the hundredth floor, his pace clearly slowed... He was only fighting the official matches arranged within the time limit to avoid elimination. No wonder I hadn't heard of him... It's no different from the entertainment industry. New waves replace old ones, and if you don't show your face for a few days, it's easy to be forgotten... Especially someone like him..."

Oboro murmured.

Then he walked over, picked up the telephone, and dialed a number. "Hello, I need recordings of contestant Wing's previous matches."

Before long, someone knocked on the door and delivered what Oboro needed.

Their efficiency was high.

Oboro began playing the tapes one by one, watching closely.

By nightfall, he had finished them all.

"Wing... His style belongs to a traditional martial arts school, methodical and rigid. His execution of techniques is somewhat unpracticed, and his timing is not very mature either... Clearly, he had already undergone some training before coming to Heavens Arena... But... it was far from enough."

"After the hundredth floor... It is obvious that he is also learning the strengths of various fighting schools and absorbing experience... As the later matches slowed down, every time he appeared again after an interval, his growth was obvious... The reason he slowed down was to integrate everything... to enrich himself. During those limited breaks, he must have been undergoing some sort of training..."

"So... Biscuit must be here!"

"He is definitely a Nen user, but he has not used Nen... He is most likely pursuing the same goal as me, fighting purely through his body and martial techniques. It is probably Biscuit's requirement!"

"He has only learned Nen... but has little actual combat experience?"

Oboro turned off the television, narrowed his eyes, and gripped the remote in his hand.

What a coincidence! "Heh heh... I hope you can bring me some amusement."

Oboro flexed his fingers. Since they had run into each other, it would be a waste not to have some fun.

The corner of his mouth curved upward.