Heaven's Arena

The airship passed through the clouds above the Republic of Padokea.

Gon leaned against the porthole, his forehead nearly pressed to the glass. Killua sat beside him with his legs crossed, crumpling the wrapper from his last chocolate bar into a ball and stuffing it into his pocket.

They had spent every last bit of money they had on these two airship tickets. Their pockets were completely empty.

"We'll get prize money once we start winning at the arena," Gon said.

"Win first, then talk. The prize money on the first floor is only enough for a can of juice." Killua shoved the paper ball into the pocket on the back of the seat.

The airship continued onward.

At the far end of the horizon, a massive circular tower abruptly rose up, piercing through the clouds. It stood straight and towering, several times taller than every mountain around it—991 meters tall with 251 floors, the fourth-tallest building in the world. Its summit was hidden in the misty clouds, too high to take in at a glance.

Gon's eyes widened instantly. His mouth fell slightly open as he leaned forward, staring fixedly at the distant tower.

"It's so tall... I've never seen such a huge building before."

His voice was soft, as though he feared disturbing something. He could not take his eyes off it for the entire trip, utterly dumbfounded, his gaze filled with awe.

Killua was much calmer. He narrowed his eyes slightly, folded his arms, and leaned against the window.

When he was six, his father had dumped him here. It had taken him two years to reach the 199th floor. He knew this tower too well—the size of every arena, the prize money for every rank, the waiting time for every elevator. More than four thousand challengers registered to compete here every day, and its annual audience exceeded a billion visitors.

He had already mapped out a training route for the two of them. Judging from the explosive strength Gon had displayed during the Hunter Exam, he would have no opponents below the 100th floor. The problem was above the 150th floor—those semi-professional fighters had already begun to touch upon the threshold of Nen, while they did not understand it at all.

"Don't talk nonsense later, and don't draw too much attention to yourself." He turned to Gon. "Keeping a low profile here will be good for us."

As the airship drew closer, the tower's outline became clearer. Its ring-shaped levels were stacked one upon another, so enormous they felt oppressive. Every floor had its own fighting arena and could hold hundreds of spectators at once. The tower contained not only arenas, but restaurants, shopping centers, and all kinds of entertainment facilities. The crowd at its base looked like ants—fighters, spectators, and applicants from all over the world packed the plaza before the tower.

The airship landed.

The two entered the town where the arena stood and walked all the way to the foot of the tower.

The streets beneath their feet were bustling. Vendors selling match prediction papers were everywhere, alongside spectators carrying cheering banners and fighters walking in small groups. The air carried the charred aroma of grilled meat and the scent of freshly baked bread, while the storefronts were covered in posters of past Floor Masters. Several children squatted by the roadside, using chalk to draw an arena on the ground and sparring as their favorite competitors.

Gon kept his head tilted back the entire way. His neck was already sore from looking up, but his eyes shone with excitement as his pace involuntarily quickened. The tower stretched into the sky, its densely packed floors spiraling upward, while the lower half roared with voices.

Killua still walked casually, leading the way as if he knew the place by heart.

"I stayed here for two years before. My dad threw me here when I was six," he said as they walked. "Fights start from the first floor. Win one match and you rise ten floors; lose one and you drop ten. Above the 200th floor is a completely different world, and the rules are different too. But let's get to the 100th floor first."

"Lose one match and drop ten floors?" Gon's eyes widened.

"So we can't lose. The higher the floor, the bigger the prize money—and the stronger the opponents. Once you reach above the 100th floor, you get your own private room, and food is free too. We won't have to worry about where to stay anymore. Above the 200th floor are luxury suites; you get an entire floor to yourself—but that's still far away, so don't think about it yet."

Gon's eyes lit up even more when he heard the words "free place to stay."

They entered the registration hall on the first floor. The crowd surged around them, and the air was mixed with the smell of sweat, disinfectant, and charred roasted corn. Huge portraits of previous Floor Masters hung above the hall, their golden frames gleaming beneath the lights. The lines included heavily muscled heavyweight fighters, boys dressed in martial arts uniforms, and several elderly fighters with graying hair.

A staff member handed them two registration forms. Name, age, fighting experience, self-introduction.

Killua immediately lowered his voice to warn Gon, his expression serious. "Don't write down your real level. Just put down that you're an ordinary beginner with no experience. Hide your strength on purpose."

"Why?"

"If they realize you're too strong, the upper floors will notice you right away. And we'll have to slowly fight our way up from the first floor—that'd be a waste of time. Keep the form low-key, then we can start directly from a higher floor."

Gon obediently followed his advice. With an earnest, honest expression, he filled out the form exactly as Killua told him to, describing himself as a clueless newcomer who could not do anything.

Once they had finished the forms, the staff arranged a basic physical fitness test. The two completed the test items step by step. The examiner stared at their score sheets for several seconds, then looked up at them.

"Registration is complete. Please proceed to the battle area for your matches."

Gon looked thrilled, his palms even itching a little as he impatiently waited to get onstage and fight, to train.

Killua remained calm, smiling faintly. He was ready to make money while helping Gon grow stronger at high speed. Sooner or later, they would catch up to Hisoka.

The battle doors opened. The two walked inside.

In front of the television, Genos scooped the last spoonful of rice from the rice cooker into his bowl and sat back down at the coffee table.

On the screen, the doors were slowly closing.

Heaven's Arena. The fourth-tallest building in the Hunter world. Its summit was covered by sightseeing clouds all year round. Even through the screen, the roaring cheers from the lower-floor arenas could be heard.

"Finally, it's the next stage."

He picked up a piece of pickled radish. He chewed it twice, then put down his chopsticks.

Hmm!!! What was going on?

Why were there only two people?

Teacher Saitama was not there.

Genos's chopsticks froze in midair. He pressed pause and rewound the footage—the airship landing, Gon and Killua entering the arena, registering and filling out forms, taking the physical test. The doors opened, and the two entered. There had not been a single shot of his teacher from beginning to end.

He frowned and rewound further.

At the foot of Kukuroo Mountain, the four had gone their separate ways. Kurapika headed toward Yorknew City. Leorio went toward medical school. Gon and Killua went to Heaven's Arena.

He remembered this scene clearly.

Then he had paused it to go to the bathroom.

That was it.

He returned to the coffee table and dragged the footage back half a frame.

In the earlier recording, the four were still saying farewell beside the Trial Gate. The door toward the reception room remained open. Through the arched corridor window, he could see the copper pot on the long table still bubbling away.

Saitama sat at the long table.

He was lifting a slice of marbled wagyu from the copper pot and slowly dipping it into sesame sauce. He dipped it twice, put it into his mouth, and chewed. Then he picked up another slice.

He had absolutely no intention of leaving.

Several bottles of dipping sauce were arranged on the condiment table beside him. Sesame sauce, mashed garlic, chili oil, chive flower sauce, fermented bean curd. All free.

Genos picked up his chopsticks again.

So Teacher was still eating hotpot. He had not gotten separated from them; he simply had not finished eating yet.

He put the pickled radish into his mouth.

"After all, it's free."

His chopsticks reached into the bowl again. On the screen, the doors opened once more. He thought that once Teacher finished that plate of wagyu, the dipping sauces should be nearly gone too. By then, he would naturally appear at the entrance to Heaven's Arena, carrying a packed takeaway box in his hand.