Conrad smiled.
It was a small thing, barely noticeable, but it marked the moment he decided the fight was over.
Adarte's final charge came with everything he had left.
His aura surged violently into the left glove, the glow unstable and intense.
It was meant to end the fight in a single blow.
Conrad didn't retreat.
Instead, he focused all of his aura into his right leg.
Ko.
The concentration was absolute.
For an instant, the rest of his body felt light, almost hollow, as every bit of Nen poured into that single limb.
The muscles tightened, reinforced beyond their limits.
He kicked off the ground.
The burst of force sent him out of the attack's path in a blur.
Adarte used his glove to strike, but it was smashed into empty air and then into the arena floor, detonating another violent shockwave.
Dust and debris exploded upward, filling the space between them with smoke and rumbling echoes.
Adarte lost sight of Conrad.
For less than a second.
That was all it took.
From within the cloud of dust, a heavy impact struck Adarte square in the back.
It was a precise attack, much like an assassination.
Conrad's strike landed cleanly, targeting the point between Adarte's shoulder blades, where his aura was weakest from overcommitment.
The force traveled straight through Adarte's body, disrupting his Nen flow instantly and breaking most of the bones in his body.
Adarte's eyes widened.
The bat slipped from his hand.
His legs buckled, and he fell forward, hitting the ground hard.
The glow around the left glove flickered violently once, then vanished.
His body twitched, then went still.
Unconscious.
Alive but badly injured.
The dust slowly settled.
Silence spread across the arena.
For a few seconds, no one spoke.
The audience stared, trying to process what they had just seen.
The floor was cracked and ruined.
Adarte lay motionless at its center.
Conrad stood several meters away.
The referee approached cautiously, checking Adarte's condition.
After confirming he was breathing and stable, the referee raised one arm.
"Winner, Conrad!"
The announcer's voice echoed through the arena, and the crowd erupted.
Some cheered.
Others murmured in disbelief.
Conrad didn't react.
He simply turned and walked toward the exit.
Back in his room on Floor 200, the door closed softly behind him.
Conrad sat down in the chair near the window.
Only then did he exhale.
He poured himself a cup of whiskey.
He lifted the glass but didn't drink immediately.
"State of Calm," he whispered.
"Undo."
The ability released its hold.
The change was immediate and overwhelming.
Emotion rushed back in like a flood.
The sharp clarity faded, replaced by adrenaline, excitement, and agitation.
His heart rate increased slightly.
His hands trembled not from fear, but from the aftershock of combat.
Conrad let out a slow breath and leaned back in his chair.
"…Yeah," he murmured, nodding to himself. "There it is."
He took a sip of whiskey.
Only now did he truly feel what had happened.
The tension of reading an opponent.
The danger of misjudging timing by a fraction of a second.
The thrill of executing a plan perfectly under pressure.
He laughed softly.
"It was fun," he said aloud.
He had confirmed his strengths: speed, control, and perception.
He had seen his weaknesses: reliance on calm and lack of emotional resistance when abilities dropped.
He had faced a real Nen user and won without killing, without losing control.
Conrad stared at the ceiling for a moment, thoughts already moving ahead.
"This is just the beginning," he thought.
After reviewing the battle again and again in his mind, Conrad slowed his thoughts and focused on what truly mattered.
He didn't dwell on victory itself, but on the cracks beneath it—the moments where things could have gone wrong.
He replayed Adarte's movements, the timing of the charged glove, and the instant where overconfidence could have cost him everything.
He noted his own habits as well: how heavily he relied on State of Calm, how narrow his options became once Ko was committed, and how even a single misread might have ended differently.
Only after sorting those thoughts did he stand and head for the shower.
Warm water washed away the dust, sweat, and lingering tension.
His muscles relaxed, but his mind stayed sharp.
Ideas drifted in and out of concepts rather than full abilities.
Nen didn't need to be flashy.
It needed to be precise. He let those thoughts sit quietly instead of forcing them, knowing that true abilities were born from understanding.
"One must fight to learn how to fight..."
Conrad said to himself, smirking.
By the time he lay down,
Sleep came quickly.
It was the first time he used his Nen to battle for real and his first battle.
When Conrad woke, his body felt light and steady.
There was no soreness, no lingering fatigue.
He dressed simply and left his room, taking time to walk through the corridors of Heaven's Arena.
He observed others without judgment, reading their posture and aura flow out of habit.
Eventually, hunger pulled him toward a restaurant.
He ordered generously, far more than an ordinary person would eat.
As the food arrived, Conrad ate slowly, savoring each bite.
Halfway through the meal, he paused and leaned back slightly.
"Even without a direct combat ability…" he murmured to himself, "…I handled Adarte."
The realization wasn't prideful. It was calm and grounded.
He knew why.
It was Nen mastery.
From deep within, he understood that what set him apart was clean, efficient control.
Shu reinforced his strikes and movement naturally, without waste.
His transitions between Ten, Ren, and Ko were smooth.
He didn't overcommit.
He didn't panic.
He didn't let aura leak where it didn't belong.
Adarte had power.
But it was crude.
Conrad had used Nen the way it was meant to be used, not as a weapon, but as an extension of intent and understanding.
He smiled faintly as he continued eating.
"A real ability," he thought, "should grow from that."