Closing the Net (Please Keep Reading)

"Kid, you really have no manners at all. Hmph!"

Now that things had come to this, Biscuit stopped pretending. With her hands on her hips, she spoke angrily.

She was nearly fifty years old, after all. Calling Oboro a kid was only natural.

"You came to sound me out, didn't you?"

Oboro withdrew his aura and walked over to the bed, looking as though he were about to sleep.

"What's your relationship with that Wing?"

Biscuit turned her head away, pretending she could not be bothered with Oboro.

There was no reason for the two of them to start fighting in earnest.

More importantly... although the old woman was extremely curious about Oboro and wanted to learn more about him, she disdained the idea of having a serious fight with him.

After all, the one facing Oboro in the ring was Wing, not her.

Besides, Heavens Arena also had rules governing its registered Fighters.

At the very least, deathmatches were strictly forbidden within Heavens Arena.

Sparring or ordinary fights, on the other hand... were no big deal.

Thump, thump, thump.

Biscuit stomped heavily across the floor with each step as she headed for the door.

She was leaving...

If she stayed any longer, she feared the boy would deduce even more information about her and Wing.

She had already witnessed Oboro's scheming and intelligence.

"Leaving already? Aren't you going to say goodbye?"

Oboro, lying on the bed, smiled faintly.

Bang! Biscuit answered him by slamming the door shut.

Once outside, Biscuit, who had seemed angry, suddenly darkened. Biting a finger, she muttered, "The instant I threw my punch, his muscles reacted like a conditioned reflex. His body tensed up, solid as steel. It had nothing to do with Nen; it was purely an instinct forged through martial arts... He controlled the speed of blood flow throughout his entire body, sending it to every part of himself... In that brief instant, the force with which his heart pumped blood increased explosively..."

"He sensed the change in my aura, so... he was able to defend himself in advance."

"I already controlled my aura as subtly as possible, yet he still noticed..."

"Eighteen years old... His physical talent is extremely high, but among the people I've met, it isn't quite top-tier. Yet at such a young age, he already possesses this kind of physique... The only explanation is that he has an exceptionally outstanding 'key' capable of unlocking the body's treasure vault—a certain training method... Combined with his martial skills, he most likely began training from childhood... A family inheritance? Or perhaps... he belongs to some school..."

After thinking for a while, Biscuit returned to Wing's room.

"That fast?!"

Hearing the movement, Wing, who was still repeatedly watching the match recordings, looked surprised.

"Forfeit!"

Biscuit stared gravely at her disciple.

"Huh?"

Wing had no idea what she meant.

"Don't participate in tomorrow's match. You're no match for him."

"I know..." Wing nodded. The more he studied Oboro's recordings during this short time, the more he understood just how difficult it would be to defeat him. "But... I wasn't aiming for victory in the first place. You said it too—fighting him would let me learn a lot... So I want to give it a try."

"No."

Biscuit shook her twin ponytails, her attitude utterly resolute.

"Why?"

"That kid is even more dangerous than I imagined... And he's vicious-minded... an out-and-out... shameless, cunning bastard. Once you get in that ring, if he causes you irreversible harm, then there'd be no point in my bringing you to Heavens Arena to train..."

Biscuit's puffed-up, angry appearance made Wing curious about Oboro as well.

From the look of it... Biscuit seemed to have... gotten the worse end of it?

Wing rarely saw his master react like this...

That Oboro... was no ordinary person.

"Alright, I'll listen to you."

Wing smiled gently and adjusted his glasses.

In the room on the other side.

Oboro raised the arm Biscuit had injured and recalled the instant change in her aura when she attacked him. He murmured, "As expected... someone who's lived long really is different."

He had seen a kind of "ultimate" in Biscuit. It was not overwhelming, but it was exceptionally pure!

A body tempered through countless trials!

That old woman's physical training had, at least from his current perspective, reached a level close to perfection.

The odds of him reaching that level in a short time were very small.

"If she were a mortal enemy, how long could I... last against her..."

Oboro narrowed his eyes.

The disciples of Shingen-ryu were all quite upright... whether Netero or Biscuit. That was why Oboro had not worried about inviting Biscuit into his room. Even if she attacked, he did not think he would be in danger... unless under extremely special circumstances, nothing unexpected should generally happen.

"Ladies and gentlemen! I know you've all been looking forward to today's match for a long time... One is the terrifying rookie continuing a legend, while the other is a dark horse who has likewise surged up to the 150th floor in a short time..."

"Will Suit Thug's winning streak continue? Or will it... end here?"

"We can see... Contestant Oboro seems to be taking this match very seriously. He has changed out of the white shirt he usually wears and deliberately put on a suit jacket, giving off the feeling of a boss... He has even taken off the sunglasses he usually likes to wear... As if he has gotten serious, and it suits his title of Suit Thug even better."

At noon the next day, the competition hall on the 150th floor was blazing with excitement. The stands were packed, roaring like a tidal wave.

The host was also warming up the crowd, providing nonstop commentary.

A ring of cameras surrounded the square arena, all snapping photos of Oboro.

Under the spotlights, Oboro stood alone in a black formal suit, his hands in his pockets.

Wing had yet to emerge from the contestant tunnel opposite him.

"Huh? Has something happened to our contestant Wing?"

The host was drenched in sweat as he did his best to stall for time. Only when the audience began to boo did he have no choice but to say something, hurriedly contacting the higher-ups.

"Ah... ladies and gentlemen, we've just received word that contestant Wing has forfeited the match, so... the winner is contestant Oboro!"

Oboro was not too surprised upon hearing this. He merely frowned slightly.

Before reaching the 200th floor, he had been quite looking forward to fighting Wing, a character from the story and a Nen user... It would have added some seasoning to the tedious match schedule. He had never expected Wing to forfeit and concede.

"So it was Biscuit's idea..."

The thought flashed through his mind as Oboro slowly left.

"Terrifying... this is our Suit Thug! Even on the 150th floor, his reputation alone is enough to make his opponents flee at the mere mention of his name..."

The host was still shouting inside the arena.

But people around the venue had already begun throwing all kinds of trash onto the field... and the boos filled the air.

They had bought tickets to watch the match... only to see nothing, so naturally they were unhappy.

The match with Wing was only an interlude.

Since the other party had no intention of fighting him, Oboro simply let things take their course.

He had no interest in people who had lost their fighting spirit and lacked even the courage to challenge themselves...

If it had been that madman Hisoka... even knowing death awaited him, he would absolutely have thrown himself into enjoying the process of killing each other without hesitation.

For some reason, Oboro actually missed Hisoka a little...

There was a reason that pervert could become a powerhouse among Nen users.

As for Illumi... he might seem willing to disregard everything for money, but in a situation where death was nearly certain, he might not be like Hisoka. In Illumi's mind, his own life always came first. Only by staying alive could there be possibilities.

He would not do anything foolish... that was also the Zoldyck family creed, as was easy to see from the control he later exerted over Killua.

Although he would not take overly great risks, Illumi believed there was no target that could not be challenged—or killed... If he could not confront one head-on, there were other ways to deal with it: hire help, or... use more underhanded methods. It did not matter whether they were despicable, as long as the target died, it was the right approach.

From that perspective, Illumi would not yield to any strong opponent either. He simply was not as direct as Hisoka.

Of course, that was only under ordinary circumstances. If someone touched Illumi's reverse scale... that would be another matter.

For example... Killua.

"Tch... I finally came out to relax, so why am I thinking about those two? What a buzzkill."

On a bright, sunny day, Oboro sat beneath the parasol outside a drink shop on a commercial street, sipping fruit juice in his suit.

With a soft sigh, he forcibly erased the two faces that had surfaced in his mind.

The fruit farmer and the little-brother fanatic.

By now, more than a month had passed since he arrived at Heavens Arena.

As expected, he had won every match, creating a "legend." With gimmicks such as an undefeated record, instant knockouts, and broken records in every category, he had stormed his way to the 200th floor.

He had also earned the prize money he wanted, saving several hundred million Jenie in his pocket.

"Next... comes the next step..."

Oboro smiled faintly, looking extremely pleased.

Above and below the 200th floor were two different worlds. That was not only how Fighters saw it; even the audience thought so... Anyone who could climb to the 200th floor was a true "star contestant."

Yesterday, he had already registered again on the 200th floor.

After waiting a while, the person Oboro wanted to meet finally arrived late.

A bald, burly man whose head gleamed beneath the sunlight came jogging over.

Ross Charles, the kindhearted man who had given Oboro an autograph on the long-distance bus... and generously given him money after they got off.

Unfortunately, Bald Charles had not become famous in a single stroke. He had been eliminated after reaching the sixtieth-something floor and had to start climbing again... In other words, his five years of arduous training had only improved his results by twenty floors compared to the first time he came to Heavens Arena.

After Oboro became a popular figure at Heavens Arena, Charles sought him out and insisted on becoming his disciple... Oboro refused, so Charles became his follower instead. Wherever Oboro went, he went too. For the sake of getting stronger, he truly had perseverance.

He was now Oboro's number-one lackey.

"How did it go?"

When Charles approached, Oboro asked lazily.

After grabbing the cup of water on the table and gulping it down, Charles said, "I visited every casino, big and small. Your odds are still very low. None of the bookies seem to think you'll lose... Though things are different above the 200th floor... I'm guessing it may be because Heavens Arena is building hype around you, and... ordinary spectators want to see you keep winning and witness the legend continue with their own eyes..."

"What are the other guy's odds?"

Oboro asked again.

"Your odds are 1.5... Your next opponent's odds are 78."

Charles replied.

They had risen that high... It was time to make his move!

A smile curled across Oboro's lips. He had held back and done nothing before precisely because he had been waiting for this day.

You had to fatten a pig before slaughtering it.

"Split up the money and place bets at every house... on my opponent to win." Oboro smiled.

"Huh? Master... are you going to concede?"

Charles froze.

Oboro had not accepted him as a disciple. Charles had simply stubbornly insisted on calling him Master.

"What?" Oboro raised a brow.

"If you do that... it would go against the spirit of fighting..."

It was obvious that Charles greatly admired Oboro. He believed... Oboro could still win easily, even after reaching the 200th floor.

Charles was straightforward, simple-minded, and honest.

"The spirit of fighting can't put food on the table. Just go do it." Oboro found it difficult to explain that his main purpose in coming to Heavens Arena was money.

That sounded too vulgar... and Charles probably would not understand it with that head of his.

"I'm not conceding. I'll still fight, I'm just going to go easy on him... Now hurry up."

Seeing such a broad-shouldered, burly man fidgeting like a child, looking as though he wanted to speak but held himself back, Oboro rubbed his temples and urged him on.

Charles left somewhat unwillingly.

"The 200th floor... a fighting ground for Nen users... It probably won't be as easy as before... Hopefully, it'll be a little fun."

After finishing his juice, Oboro rose and walked into the bustling street, gradually disappearing into the crowd.