Rage Strike X Longing

Amid the arena's thunderous cheers, the commentator cried passionately, "First to enter is Mito, the [Rage Strike] warrior from a tribal people, whose fighting style is calm and elegant!"

Clearly, the man was not particularly famous. To sparse cheers, he strode toward the fighting platform.

"Next, please welcome Kevin—who decides victory or defeat entirely by his own whims, and who remains spotless even in defeat—Immovable! As! A! Mountain!"

In an instant, the entire arena erupted in fervent cheers. The title "Immovable as a Mountain" and Kevin's name were chanted in unison by the audience.

Kevin slowly walked onto the fighting platform as he was introduced, smiling and waving to the people in the stands.

"Why does he have that title?" a new spectator attending one of Kevin's matches for the first time asked curiously.

An older fan beside him immediately answered, "Of course, it's because he doesn't move when facing attacks. He stands there as steady as a mountain. No matter how powerful his opponent is, they can't injure him."

"If he's that strong, why did it take him three months to reach this floor?"

Regular arena spectators all knew that if someone was truly powerful, it would generally take them only a few days to reach the level they belonged at.

"That's naturally because he likes it that way. Whether he wins or loses depends entirely on his mood. Of course, there are deeper reasons too, but only knowledgeable viewers can see them." The old fan chuckled as he spoke.

At that moment, a seemingly devoted fan nearby spoke with a look of disdain. "Don't listen to their nonsense. It's precisely because Kevin's wins and losses depend entirely on his whims that the odds on his matches are always fluctuating. A lot of gamblers love that thrill." He was a true Kevin fan and sincerely believed that betting was an insult to the fighters.

Some experienced bettors often won because they had sharp eyes and could tell which side was stronger or held the advantage during a fight.

But someone like Kevin, who could inexplicably lose even when he held the advantage, gave them a special kind of thrill.

"The real reason he got that title is that no one has ever knocked him down for points, and no one has ever KO'd him. His opponents usually only win by scoring through valid attacks. And when facing attacks, he neither dodges nor gets hurt. It often happens that even if he loses a match, he only has a little dust on him, while the victorious opponent ends up bruised and battered after taking a few hits."

At first, this often got Kevin cursed at, because it caused many gamblers to lose every last penny in their pockets.

The spectators' conversations did not affect the start of the fight below in the slightest.

Kevin stood on the fighting platform with a relaxed expression, his gaze fixed on his opponent.

He was a middle-aged man with black hair, dressed in robes resembling ethnic minority attire, embroidered with patterns that were impossible to understand. He held a weapon in his hand. At first glance, it appeared to be nothing more than an ordinary wooden staff.

It was clear that his opponent seemed to be an ordinary martial artist. The Aura around him dissipated naturally, just like that of an ordinary person.

Kevin raised a hand and casually curled his fingers, signaling for his opponent to attack as he pleased.

His opponent remained calm and charged at Kevin without a word. His burst of speed was incredibly fast.

As expected, matches above the one hundred and fiftieth floor really are different. Kevin felt somewhat satisfied. He casually raised an arm and easily blocked the incoming wooden staff. Then he lifted his right leg and smoothly blocked the whip kick that followed.

Mito's attacks possessed both speed and strength, his offensive sweeping toward Kevin like a violent storm, wave after wave.

They were highly skillful. Every attack looked random, yet they were all interconnected and woven together.

Yet every single attack was firmly blocked by Kevin.

Suddenly, the wooden staff abruptly changed trajectory mid-attack, forcibly shifting from a swing into a thrust. It cleverly slipped through a gap in Kevin's defense and struck his chest hard.

"Valid attack!"

With the commentator's announcement, the score became 0 : 1.

Against an ordinary martial artist, a blow like that would likely cause immediate difficulty breathing and rob them of the ability to continue fighting.

Their opponent would then seize the chance to land a KO.

But Kevin did not budge. He reached up and touched the spot that had been struck, looking at Mito, who had quickly opened up the distance after the attack failed to achieve its expected effect.

"Excellent technique. Normally, I would definitely have a proper spar with you, then lose to you. But this time, I don't want to waste time failing." Kevin smiled as he spoke, waving at his opponent.

Those words, along with his arrogant demeanor, clearly enraged Mito.

It was the first time he had encountered such an overbearing opponent.

"Hm?" Kevin sensed that something was wrong.

He discovered that his opponent's presence had suddenly grown stronger. The Aura manifesting around him seemed to surge all at once. But logically, Mito should not have mastered Aura yet.

Mito gripped the wooden staff tightly, his speed nearly doubling in an instant as he charged at Kevin again.

"Look! Mito has been enraged!"

This was precisely why he was called [Rage Strike].

Kevin reached out to block the wooden staff and immediately felt a clear burst of pain. His opponent's strength had obviously increased considerably.

Kevin realized that if he wanted to win this match, he could no longer passively take hits as he usually did.

Amid the gale-like barrage of attacks, Kevin moved. As if by reflex, he deftly passed through a gap in the assault and landed a precise punch on his opponent's stomach.

Although that punch did not use Aura, Kevin's own strength was not to be underestimated.

Bang!

With a tremendous crash, Mito was sent flying by the heavy blow. His face twisted in pain, his mouth falling open as he vomited up the contents of his stomach. He slammed heavily onto the ground and slid all the way to the edge of the arena.

"Ooh! Kevin has actually taken the initiative to attack! What an incredibly powerful strike! Fighter Mito is down and unable to rise. Could this be a one-hit KO?"

Seeing this, the referee immediately ran to Mito's side and began the count, checking whether he could still get back up.

Kevin, meanwhile, stood quietly where he was, staring at his Fist with a slight frown, as though contemplating something.

At the moment his punch had struck his opponent, he had felt a longing—an extremely faint longing, on the same level as the feeling he experienced when touching special opal.

He realized that his opponent had valuable [materials] on him.

This truly was unexpected, completely beyond his expectations.

Just then, Mito moved and struggled to force himself back to his feet.

"Oh! Fighter Mito is back on his feet! Is he going to continue fighting?"

"Hang in there!"

"Hit him! Don't fall!"

"I bet everything on you winning, so pull yourself together!"

Shouts rose one after another from the stands.

However, Mito stood with one hand clutching his stomach, his face full of pain. Looking at Kevin, who had not moved from his spot, he slowly raised his hand.

"I surrender."

He knew very well that he was no match for Kevin. His attacks against Kevin were as powerless as children playing around, while Kevin's attacks were simply more than he could endure.

"The fight is over! The winner is..."

The entire arena instantly erupted into rapturous cheers.

"Haha, I told you! I'd studied this long ago. Kevin definitely didn't want to climb back up after losing, so he really chose victory!"

"Why didn't you say so earlier, you bastard?"

Two gambling friends who had bet on different fighters excitedly began wrestling with each other in the stands.

In the waiting room, little Killua excitedly raised both hands and cheered.

After cheering, he was filled with confusion. "Is his body as hard as a steel plate?" He simply could not understand Kevin's performance.

In the arena, Kevin glanced at Mito being carried away on a stretcher, then quickly left the arena.

As evening approached.

Mito rubbed his still-aching stomach as he walked out of the Infirmary.

He understood that his opponent had held back. Kevin's punch had rendered him unable to fight, but fortunately, it had not caused his body any overly serious injury.

"That young man is practically a Monster. His body is as hard as metal," Mito could not help muttering under his breath.

"Are you talking about me?" Kevin's voice suddenly came from the doorway.

The sudden sound startled Mito. But he quickly recovered and asked, "Why are you here? Is something the matter?"

He did not think Kevin had come to humiliate him.

"Mm, is now a convenient time to talk?"