Some time later, Adarte rose from his seat with a quiet grunt of effort.
He reached into the pocket of his jacket, paused for half a second as if reconsidering, then placed a small card on the table between them.
"My number," he said. "In case… you know."
Conrad glanced at the card but didn't pick it up immediately.
He watched Adarte instead, how the man avoided eye contact now, how his shoulders were tense despite the conversation having ended peacefully.
Adarte cleared his throat.
"That's all. I'll get going."
Conrad nodded.
"Take care of that hand."
Adarte gave a short, humorless smile.
"I will."
Then, after a moment of hesitation, he turned and left.
The door closed softly behind him.
Conrad finally reached forward and took the card.
He looked at the name and number written in simple, blocky handwriting, then let out a quiet chuckle.
"He's not the type who makes friends easily."
Conrad murmured to himself.
He leaned back against the chair, holding the card between two fingers.
"That number is his way of saying we're friends. Or at least… that he respects me."
Conrad slipped the card into his wallet.
A grin tugged at his lips.
"At the very least, it means he doesn't hate me."
After a short while, Conrad stood, moved the chair aside, and sat down on the floor.
He crossed his legs, straightened his spine, and closed his eyes.
His aura settled.
He didn't activate State of Calm.
He didn't suppress his thoughts either.
He simply observed them, letting them drift past like clouds.
Images from the fight surfaced: Adarte's charge, the vibration in the bat, the swelling aura in the glove, and the moment he had decided the match was over.
This was the first real Nen battle he had fought.
A real fight against a capable Nen user.
On the two-hundredth floor, fighters were granted three months before being required to fight again, or they could choose to fight earlier, at their own discretion.
Conrad opened his eyes slightly, staring at the dim ceiling.
"I won't rush," he thought.
He had no intention of waiting three months either.
Time was valuable.
But charging into another fight immediately, relying only on State of Calm and superior fundamentals, felt… wasteful.
He exhaled slowly.
"My next fight," he whispered, "I want another ability."
"No..."
"I will create and use a new ability..."
Not because he needed it desperately, but because now, after experiencing a true Nen battle, something inside him had shifted.
His understanding had deepened.
Before, abilities were concepts, ideas shaped by logic and theory.
He observed them, thought about them, and theorized within his mind.
He did all the time when he read the manga and watched the anime back on Earth.
Now, things have changed; they were answers to real danger.
As the hours passed, Conrad remained seated, unmoving.
He reviewed the battle again and again, not emotionally, but analytically.
Adarte's mistake wasn't just crude Nen usage.
It was commitment without flexibility.
A single axis of power.
Everything funneled into one decisive moment.
"That kind of power is terrifying," Conrad admitted inwardly, "but only if it lands."
His fingers twitched slightly as a new thought surfaced.
"I don't want to be that kind of fighter."
He had already decided on his path: a versatile fighter, not too complex but also not simple.
Truth be told, Conrad did not think himself to be a genius.
He could not imitate the fighting style of "Chrollo" or create simple but flexible abilities and use them masterfully like Hisoka.
He wanted to be a Nen user who could fight in many ways, not perfectly in one.
A mage.
A sorcerer.
Someone who prepared, layered, and controlled the battlefield, but within human standards.
He was not some sort of a monster, not like Fourth Prince or Netero; he was an ordinary office worker transmigrated into the world of Hunter x Hunter.
Who happens to know and remember "Nen" well.
In the fight, Conrad had relied heavily on reading aura.
Gyo, flow, intent, timing.
It had worked beautifully.
But it also highlighted something else.
"There was still risk," he thought. "If I misread him even once, that glove could have ended the fight."
He didn't like that possibility.
He also knew that this technique would only work on a Nen user like Adarte. What if he encounters an experienced Nen user who also excels in basic and advanced applications of Nen?
It is most likely he cannot read such an opponent with ease.
That was dangerous.
He wanted something that would tilt the battlefield further in his favor.
His aura stirred faintly.
"Control," he murmured.
His mind returned to his first ability. Black Ring: State of Calm.
Enhanced clarity.
"It stabilizes me," Conrad thought. "But it doesn't interfere with the enemy."
His lips curved slightly.
"What if my next ability does?"
Not directly. Not offensively, at least not in an obvious way.
Something that punished recklessness
The thought made his heartbeat quicken not with excitement alone, but with recognition.
This was the feeling he had been waiting for.
The same epiphany that had birthed State of Calm.
Nen responded to meaning and a high level of emotional intent.
And now, after his first true battle, meaning had been forged.
Conrad slowly stood as night fully settled outside.
He stretched, rolled his shoulders, and glanced toward the desk where his notebook lay.
"Not yet," he said softly.
He wasn't ready to write it down.
Instead, he returned to the floor and resumed meditating, this time focusing inward on his aura pathways, his breathing, and the subtle sensations of Ren and Ten circulating through his body.
"Next time," he thought, "I won't just observe, but also will have power to crush my opponent directly."