Another week slipped by in quiet repetition.
Morning after morning, Conrad trained his body until his muscles burned and his breathing grew ragged.
Push-ups, pull-ups, squats, core exercises, and simple movements, repeated relentlessly.
After that came Nen.
Ten until it felt like a second skin.
Ren until his aura swelled and strained his focus.
Ken until his mind trembled from maintaining even distribution.
Ryu until shifting aura became instinct rather than calculation.
"Some time later, I need to add the Category Training that Biscuit showed to Gon and Killua to my own program..."
Conrad did not forget about the training that Biscuit taught. If only there were times when he could see how Biscuit would train a manipulator.
Right now, there was no such chance.
There were no dramatic breakthroughs, no sudden leaps in power. Only slow refinement.
And that was exactly what Conrad wanted.
By the end of the week, his movements felt more efficient.
His aura responded faster.
He made fewer mistakes while practicing Ryu, and his Ken lasted longer before strain crept in.
Still far from mastery but no longer clumsy.
One evening, after finishing his routine,
Conrad sat on the edge of his bed and exhaled deeply.
"…That's about as far as training alone will take me."
He stared at his hands, faint traces of aura still clinging to his fingers.
Men were not meant to exist in isolation.
Real growth didn't happen in empty rooms or controlled drills.
It happened under real battle.
His nen ability exists to make himself calm and logical and sensible in such situations.
But that did not mean he could not learn how to fight without "fighting" for real against a real opponent, placing his life on the line.
Experience.
And there was only one realistic place to gain it.
"Heavens Arena," Conrad said quietly.
He had avoided the thought at first.
The Arena was dangerous, but it was not as dangerous as a real battle that would happen outside in a sudden encounter.
Fighters from all walks of life gathered there: talented amateurs, professional martial artists, seasoned Nen users, and outright lunatics.
Many entered seeking glory or money.
Others entered simply because fighting was the only thing they knew.
Conrad disliked the idea of exposing himself.
But dislike didn't change reality.
"I can't grow without real combat," he admitted to himself. "And I can't afford to be inexperienced."
Nen battles were not sparring matches.
They were mental games layered on top of lethal force.
Only real fights could teach those lessons.
Matches were regulated, at least on the lower floors.
Death wasn't the goal, and interference was controlled.
It was dangerous, yes, but not outright suicidal.
Compared to wandering into the underworld or picking fights in Yorknew's shadows, it was the safest way to face Nen users.
Conrad stood up and activated Ten instinctively, his aura flowing smoothly.
"I don't have to rush," he said. "I can climb slowly."
He didn't plan to reveal everything.
Black Ring—State of Calm would remain a hidden card, used sparingly.
His goal wasn't domination; it was experience.
The next morning,
Conrad packed lightly.
Clothing, necessities, his notebook, and his laptop.
He left behind anything unnecessary.
After checking out of Hotel Lenotri, he headed directly to the transportation terminal.
The destination was clear.
The Republic of Padokea—Heavens Arena.
The massive structure was infamous across the world.
A towering spire of steel and concrete rising impossibly high into the sky, visible from miles away.
"It looks like Burj Khalifa, not that I saw the real one, but I can see the similarities..."
Conrad thought and nodded.
The tower was impressive and great to see.
A monument to human obsession with combat.
As Killua said, the best place for people who want to make money with their fists and will.
Conrad purchased his ticket without ceremony.
Once the ticket was in his hand, there was no turning back.
The journey itself was uneventful, but Conrad used the time well.
He maintained Ten throughout most of the trip, occasionally shifting into light Ren to test his endurance.
He didn't fantasize about victories.
Misreading an opponent.
Overcommitting aura.
Panicking under pressure.
He thought about how to recover from each failure.
"That's what experience is," he thought. "Surviving your own errors."
Hours later, the skyline changed.
Even from a distance, Heaven's Arena dominated the horizon.
Conrad leaned forward slightly as the massive tower came into view.
"So that's it…"
The structure felt oppressive, not because of its size alone, but because of what it represented. Countless battles.
Countless broken bodies.
Countless ambitions crushed or forged into something sharper.
When he arrived, the scale became even more overwhelming.
The Arena loomed above him, casting a long shadow across the surrounding district.
People crowded the entrance—fighters, spectators, staff, and opportunists hoping to profit from the chaos.
Conrad stepped forward calmly.
"I'll start at the bottom," he told himself.
He had no illusions about his strength.
To learn where he stood.
To learn how far he still had to go.
He knew if he were to use Nen, he could clear any enemy up to two hundred, but he was here to learn how to fight, so there was no need for him to just "Nen Crush" enemies.