"Today's winner is—Immovable Kevin!"
"Kevin! Kevin!"
"Whoo!"
The stands roared with approval. "Congratulations on advancing to the 150th floor," the referee said with a professional smile.
Kevin returned a polite nod, brushed the dust from his clothes, and exited the arena.
In the stands, Kite silently tugged the brim of his newsboy cap lower and melted into the dispersing crowd. Soon, he found Kevin in the corridor outside.
Kevin had already spotted him. "Kite! Here to watch me fight again?" he called out with a grin. "Honestly, what's so interesting about my matches? Don't you think it's a waste of time? Hahaha!"
As he spoke, he slung a friendly arm around Kite's shoulders as if they were old pals. And in a way, they were. Kite didn't shrug him off, merely replying in his calm tone, "Haven't you also watched every single one of my matches recently? Without missing a single one?"
"Hahaha!" Kevin laughed, giving Kite's shoulder a few hearty pats. "How is that the same? You know exactly what I'm doing—playing the long game."
After their initial match, it had taken Kite only a few days to blaze a path straight to the 200th floor. Now it was July 24th, over two months since Kevin's first fight. Kite had been competing on the 200th floor and above for that entire time. In those sixty days, he'd fought only six matches—a frequency that was actually considered high for that tier.
Battles above the 200th floor were by appointment only, with a strict minimum of one fight every ninety days to maintain status. This scarcity made each match a major event, with tickets selling out almost the instant they were released.
"Speaking of which," Kevin grumbled as they walked, "do you, as a contestant, get any complimentary tickets? You wouldn't believe how pricey those 200th-floor tickets are. I have to deal with those damned scalpers every time—total profiteers!"
He followed Kite toward the fighter's residential wing. The reason he wasn't heading to his own room was simple: Kite's accommodations were vastly superior. Compared to Kevin's standard single room—a comfortable but basic hotel setup—Kite's suite was a sprawling, two-hundred-square-meter presidential-style luxury apartment.
Listening to the complaint, Kite couldn't help but roll his eyes. As a Nen user who had legitimately reached the 150th floor (and beyond), how could Kevin possibly be short on funds? While the 200th-floor tickets were expensive, they were a trivial expense for someone at their level.
They entered Kite's suite. The interior was impeccably furnished with high-end decor and top-of-the-line electronic equipment. Kevin noted, not for the first time, that the technological level of some of this gear seemed to rival that of his old world.
"This is the life," Kevin sighed, flopping bodily into an impossibly plush sofa and sinking deep into its cushions. "Ahhh. I could never afford a place like this."
Kite picked up a decanter, poured a glass of fruit-infused wine for Kevin, and settled into an adjacent chair. "With your strength, you could reach the 200th floor anytime you wanted. How much longer are you planning to linger down below?"
Hearing the question, Kevin looked at Kite and smiled. "What's the rush? You know the fighters above the 150th floor are all established, famous martial artists. I need to soak in this tier for a few more months. October... I figure I'll make my move to the 200th floor around October."
Kite gave a slow nod. That was acceptable. He could wait.
He had fought six battles on the 200th floor and above now, with a record of three wins and three losses. Each had been a brutal learning experience. But the fight he truly yearned for, the one that felt like a necessary benchmark, was a rematch with Kevin. The man currently sprawled on his sofa, complaining about ticket prices, was the puzzle he was most determined to solve.
"Because even now, after fighting other Nen users, I still find you to be the most challenging opponent."
"Why are you so fixated on fighting me?" Kevin asked, genuinely curious. He had watched dozens of matches from the 200th floor and above by now, gaining a broad understanding of Nen combat. It was, without a doubt, a realm of superpowers—Nen abilities were like manifestations of personal will. He'd seen a staggering variety, some dazzlingly clever, others frankly useless. But the most important revelation was that it confirmed Bisky's assessment: the foundations of most Nen users were shockingly poor.
He finally understood why Bisky had praised his instinctive use of Gyo. In all the battles he'd witnessed, he'd only seen three Nen users employ Gyo in combat, and they'd only done so reactively, after realizing something was wrong mid-fight. Only Kite's usage met his standard—proactive, habitual, employed at the slightest hint of irregularity. As for other advanced techniques, the landscape was even bleaker. Kite, with his slightly better-than-average grasp, had managed a record of three wins and three losses. His losses had generally come against opponents who, while technically weaker, had already constructed personalized Nen abilities. Kite was still fighting with basic techniques and raw skill. Defeat under those circumstances was almost expected.
Hearing Kevin's question, Kite didn't evade. "Because your foundational Nen techniques are exceptionally strong. I've only seen that level of mastery in one other person: my teacher."
As expected, not self-taught, Kevin noted. He'd developed his own method for spotting the untrained: you looked at the solidity of their basics. Formally taught Nen users seemed to prioritize mastering the core techniques before even considering a personalized Hatsu.
"Mmm, alright," Kevin conceded. "When I finally ascend to the 200th floor, I'll fight you first. But are you going to construct your own ability? If you don't have one by then, you might not stand a chance."
Surprisingly, Kite shook his head. "No. I plan to consider that only after I pass my teacher's trial and officially become his disciple."
"Is that so?" Kevin felt a twinge of disappointment. "Does that mean you're preparing to leave?"
He'd watched Kite's most recent fight a few days prior. It was clear Kite was nearing a bottleneck; what he needed now was dedicated training time to consolidate his gains. Continued fighting on the 200th floor offered diminishing returns.
"Yes," Kite confirmed with a nod. "I need to keep working hard to pass my teacher's test. And I need to prepare for the next Hunter Exam, in January."
That piqued Kevin's interest. He leaned forward. "The Hunter Exam? You've taken it before?"
Kite nodded. "I took the one earlier this year. In the final stage, I encountered another examinee who was a Nen user. At the time, my combat skills with Nen were... lacking. I lost."
"Oh, I see." The pieces clicked into place for Kevin. That explained Kite's presence here, grinding away on the upper floors. "Well then, shall we go together next time? To be honest, I'm quite interested in this Hunter business. I should be ready by then too."
"Of course. We can go together." Having a companion for the notoriously grueling exam was always a good thing.
Kevin stood up, a grin spreading across his face as he gave Kite a hearty slap on the back. "Then you'd better train hard! Wouldn't want a repeat of last time if you run into me there."
"Heh. We'll see about that. I'll be the one beating you black and blue," Kite shot back, a competitive glint in his eye.
"Hah! I'll look forward to it, then!"
"Hahahaha!"
The laughter of the two young men—one a cautious inheritor of a strange legacy, the other a disciplined seeker on a personal trial—filled the luxurious suite, a sound of camaraderie forged in the crucible of the arena.
Patreon Seasay