The Change in Strength Above the 150th Floor

Even the air on the 150th floor of Heavens Arena seemed thicker than on the floors below.

Odin stepped out of the elevator and entered the fighters' lounge.

The decor here was noticeably more refined. Soft leather sofas replaced the long wooden benches, and a faint fragrance drifted through the air, free of the lingering blend of sweat and disinfectant on the lower floors.

Beyond the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows, the city spread out like a miniature model. Sunlight streamed through the glass, casting bright patches on the carpet.

Everyone who made it to the 150th floor had something to rely on and a story of their own.

Clearly, fewer people made it this far than he had imagined.

No one raised their voice or acted as though they owned the place. Their bearing was completely different from the fighters below.

There was less restless eagerness to prove themselves, and more composure and restraint.

Their eyes swept over Odin as he entered, appraising him, but soon turned away, seemingly unconcerned.

There weren't many people in the lounge, and they sat scattered in twos and threes.

Whoa, feels like I've gone from a street market to an upscale café, Odin muttered inwardly. He found a seat by the window and waited for his name to be called.

He noticed that the people here weren't necessarily more muscular than the burly fighters downstairs, but they felt more dangerous, like sharp blades with their edges concealed.

"'Extreme Speed' Odin versus 'Iron Wall' Kafura. Please proceed to the 157th floor."

The announcement sounded, and Odin rose.

Several fighters who had been resting with their eyes closed opened them, their gazes settling on him with a barely perceptible hint of curiosity.

Clearly, the name "rookie king Extreme Speed" had already reached this floor.

The ring was larger than those below, and the surrounding spectator seats looked more upscale. The spectators were far better dressed, and he even spotted several people in suits taking notes in little notebooks-perhaps more professional analysts or representatives from larger betting companies.

Odin's opponent, Kafura, was already standing in the ring.

He wasn't particularly tall, but he looked exceptionally solidly built. His hair was cropped short, and his skin had the bronze tone of someone who spent years exposed to the sun and wind.

He wore a simple sleeveless fighting shirt. The muscles of his exposed arms and calves weren't exaggerated, but they were sharply defined and brimming with strength.

Most striking was his stance. Both feet were planted firmly on the ring floor as though rooted there, his center of gravity low. He seemed to have become one with the ring, utterly stable.

"Iron Wall Kafura. They say his defensive techniques are masterful. He rarely attacks first, but his opponents often can't even break through his guard."

"Let's see whether this rookie's speed can tear through his iron wall."

Murmurs drifted from the spectator seats.

The announcer loudly recounted both fighters' match histories, while the big screen displayed their win rates and betting odds.

After a short wait, the referee signaled the start of the match.

Unlike Odin's previous opponents, Kafura didn't rush to attack. He didn't even move, merely watching Odin quietly with one hand ahead of the other in a flawless defensive stance, his eyes calm and untroubled.

Odin raised an eyebrow. This was his first encounter with this kind of opponent.

Out of habit, he activated the Rabbit Talisman.

The world slowed down.

He could see the slight rise and fall of Kafura's chest as he breathed, the subtle shifts in his eyes as they focused on him, and how his stance offered almost no openings. Every muscle in his body held a delicate balance. Whatever angle Odin attacked from, he seemed likely to face the most effective interception and counterattack.

A turtle style? Odin quipped inwardly. Seems like that would suit me pretty well too.

Without hesitation, he left an afterimage behind and appeared instantly at Kafura's left side, whipping a knife-hand strike toward the side of his neck.

As usual, Odin kept the strike at a level that conserved his stamina. On the lower floors, that speed had been enough to leave any opponent unable to react.

But Kafura moved.

His movement was tiny. He merely raised his left arm, his forearm blocking the path of Odin's knife-hand strike with uncanny precision, as if he had foreseen it.

Smack!

A crisp impact rang out. Odin felt as though his hand had struck a block of hard rubber. Most of his force was deftly dispersed, and his opponent's arm barely even shifted.

"Hm?" Odin was a little surprised. In his altered perception of time, Kafura's block wasn't particularly fast, but its timing and angle were perfect, as though he had calculated the trajectory of Odin's attack beforehand.

Odin instantly changed his approach. His figure flickered, and he appeared at Kafura's right side, sweeping a low kick toward the side of the knee on his supporting leg.

Kafura adjusted his center of gravity almost simultaneously. The muscles in his right leg tightened instantly, and he took Odin's kick head-on.

Thud!

Another dull impact sounded. Kafura's body swayed only slightly before steadying. His footing was astonishingly solid.

Odin used the recoil to retreat, frowning slightly. Damn, can defensive techniques really give someone reactions this good?

The man before him didn't merely have a good defensive stance. His dynamic vision, reaction speed, and control over his body were all far beyond those of the lower-floor fighters.

Odin found that his attacks seemed to sink into a bog. At this level of speed, his advantage was largely neutralized by his opponent's pinpoint defense and exceptional stability.

"Good speed," Kafura finally said, his voice low and steady. "But speed alone won't break through my defense. Your strength still falls far short."

Odin said nothing, because Kafura was telling the truth.

He thought rapidly. His opponent's defense was nearly flawless, and a head-on clash was clearly unwise unless he used even greater speed. But that would drain too much stamina, and there was no need.

This opponent was an exceptionally good training tool.

Odin moved again. This time, his movements became more elusive. Rather than seeking to end things with a single blow, he circled Kafura at high speed, sometimes darting forward in a feint, sometimes retreating instantly, leaving faint afterimages to confuse his judgment.

He was like a gust of wind circling a boulder, searching for the tiniest possible crack.

Kafura's gaze remained focused. His body subtly turned with Odin's movements, his defensive stance steady as a rock.

He seemed determined to meet every change without changing himself-or perhaps that was simply how his fighting style worked.

During one seemingly ordinary frontal rush, just as Odin's fist was about to be blocked, his figure abruptly split in two!

One afterimage continued charging forward, while the real Odin dropped low at even greater speed, sliding almost flush against the floor toward the ankle of Kafura's supporting foot!

"An afterimage?" Kafura's pupils contracted slightly, and the slightest hesitation entered his block. Clearly, he hadn't expected Odin to have this trick.

That instant of hesitation was all it took!

Odin's sliding tackle slammed squarely into Kafura's ankle.

Though Kafura's footing was incredibly steady, the precise and wholly unexpected strike to his ankle finally broke his balance.

He grunted, his body pitching forward involuntarily.

An opening!

Odin sprang from the floor like a spring. The instant Kafura lost his balance and his guard opened, Odin drove his entire body into him, ramming his shoulder hard into Kafura's chest.

"Urgh!"

Kafura could no longer maintain his balance. His massive frame went flying out of the ring and crashed heavily to the ground with a deep boom.

"The match is over! Odin wins!" the referee announced loudly.

Enthusiastic applause and chatter erupted from the stands.

Although the fight hadn't ended in an instant like Odin's previous matches, the clash between extreme speed and absolute defense, followed by his clever use of an afterimage and a ground-level attack to break through, had been dazzling to watch.

"Amazing! He actually broke through Kafura's defense!"

"What was that double? An afterimage created by his speed?"

"This rookie's something else!"

Odin watched Kafura climb to his feet.

His opponent rubbed his chest. As he looked at Odin, his eyes held less calm and more gravity.

"You won," Kafura said in a low voice. "It wasn't just your speed... Your tactical thinking was excellent too."

Kafura nodded, then turned and left the ring.

Odin let out a long breath.

Winning this fight at that level of speed hadn't been easy.

But it had also given Odin an unprecedented sense of achievement. He hadn't won solely through the Rabbit Talisman; he had secured victory through his own ideas as well.

The fighters on the 150th floor really were on a different level. It wasn't just their physical ability-their combat experience and techniques had gone up a notch too.

The elevator rose slowly, its metal doors reflecting his smiling face.

At the counter, Odin took the bankbook the staff member handed him. Seeing another several tens of millions of Jenny added to it, he couldn't help smiling even wider.

"Now that's nice~" he said with a grin. The prize money had genuinely increased, filling him with motivation for the challenges ahead.

Who didn't like having more money?

Over the next few days, several matches confirmed his belief that fighters above the 150th floor were stronger.

On the 160th floor, he encountered a petite, slender woman who used an uncanny snake style.

Her body seemed boneless, twisting at impossible angles as she tried to coil around Odin's limbs.

Odin had to raise his speed even further, using overwhelming speed to fling her out of the ring before she could get close.

On the 170th floor, his opponent was a master of kicking techniques, his feet moving in an impenetrable flurry.

Odin used his speed to weave through the gaps between the flashing kicks. Catching the instant his opponent paused to plant his foot, he closed in, struck a nerve in his thigh with a precise knife-hand blow, then pushed him out of bounds.

On the 180th floor, his opponent was a man in camouflage with an exceptionally vicious air, codenamed "Blood Butcher."

His senses seemed unusually sharp. He repeatedly anticipated Odin's movements and launched fearless counterattacks, intending to trade injury for injury.

Odin had to use Afterimage Clone frequently to confuse him. Eventually, he seized on a misjudgment and landed three consecutive, blindingly fast jabs on the same spot in his abdomen, leaving him in too much pain to get up.

Every victory was a little harder than he had anticipated.

These opponents might have been far slower than him in absolute terms, even slower than the speed Odin was currently displaying.

But the skills they had honed in their respective fields, their combat instincts, and their physical abilities had all reached heights ordinary people never saw.

"Tch, money really isn't that easy to earn." Odin took a few breaths to recover as he grumbled.

But Odin also understood that this was his own decision. Although the fights were difficult, they had given him a wealth of combat experience.

Even without the Rabbit Talisman, Odin could now rely on his own strength to climb from the first floor to the 100th.

It was an enormous leap. He was stronger than his former self by an incalculable margin.

Back in his room, he tallied his gains over the past few days.

By reaching the 180th floor, he had accumulated a substantial amount of prize money-enough that he wouldn't have to worry even if he broke his legs.

"I still haven't run into any Nen users. Looks like I've been pretty lucky." Odin gazed at the countless lights gradually coming on outside his window, his eyes sharpening. "The superhuman and the ordinary are two completely different kinds of creature."

He recalled the plot of Hunter x Hunter he had watched before, thinking of its many bizarre Nen Abilities.

Rule-based kills, forced manipulation, spatial transfer... Just thinking about them made his scalp prickle.

For instance, among the pair of Nen Beasts called the Black and White Sages that appeared in the Greed Island storyline, the Black Sage had a downright unfair ability that could forcibly relocate an opponent through space.

The Rabbit Talisman's speed was certainly powerful, but faced with such utterly unreasonable Nen Abilities, Odin could only laugh in frustration.

There was no need to compete with him in speed at all. They could simply attack the Black Sage and have the Black Sage forcibly relocate Odin into the attack. There was nothing to figure out-he could only take it head-on.

"I'd better think about what kind of Nen Ability to develop!" Odin took a deep breath.