Chapter 48: The Newcomer's Initiation
"Another newcomer made it up here?"
A man in a white lab coat approached from afar, wearing glasses and possessing delicate, refined features.
Upon seeing the newcomer, Riehlvelt, Sadaso, and the others underwent a dramatic shift in demeanor. Their earlier arrogance toward Mord vanished, replaced by extreme restraint and deference.
Yes, deference.
In a place like Heavens Arena where strength reigned supreme, inspiring fear was easy—but earning genuine respect was exceptionally difficult.
This man had achieved it.
Mord looked up, noting the mismatch between appearance and aura.
"Mr. Aoba," Riehlvelt and Sadaso bowed respectfully.
The man called Aoba nodded, his face adorned with a gentle smile as he looked at Mord and spoke, "Are you a newcomer who just reached the 200th floor? Let me give you some advice: the battles above the 200th floor are an entirely different world compared to all the fights you've experienced before. There's no need to rush into a match—you can take full advantage of the 90-day grace period allowed by the rules to carefully observe others' battles first."
Not a trace of malice could be sensed.
In fact, it could be said this was entirely well-intentioned advice.
Then, under everyone's gaze, Mord picked up a pen and checked the box in the last column of the registration form labeled "Available for battle at any time."
He directly handed it back to the counter window.
Mord watched the man called Aoba, sensing the shift in his aura.
"Since you insist on this, I respect your choice." Aoba's expression remained unchanged as he adjusted his white lab coat and continued, "As you can see, I am a doctor. If you ever need assistance, feel free to come find me anytime."
After saying this, he turned and left directly.
The direction he headed toward was actually toward the higher floors.
"According to the order, it should be my turn this time."
Riehlvelt pushed his wheelchair and also approached the registration desk.
"Since you refuse to recognize a good thing when you see it, I'll make you properly witness the cruelty of this world."
Mord paid no attention to Riehlvelt's barking and instead turned to the counter lady at the registration desk, asking, "Who was that earlier?"
"You mean Mr. Aoba? He's the Floor Master of the 230th floor. He hadn't been seen for a long time but suddenly returned to Heavens Arena early this year. Because he's kind-hearted and often provides free treatment to newcomers on the 200th floor, he's highly respected," the counter lady replied.
The timing aligned perfectly with his return earlier this year.
"If it weren't for Mr. Aoba back then, the few of us would have likely died on the spot," Riehlvelt chimed in from the side.
Countless rookies had fallen at the initiation stage for newcomers. Although Riehlvelt and his two companions ended up disabled, they at least survived and even learned Nen.
From their perspective, this Aoba was truly their savior.
This also explained their earlier attitude toward Aoba.
At this point, a bold hypothesis suddenly formed in Mord's mind: if this Aoba was the Murderous Miracle Doctor Pierre Izzie, then Heavens Arena would be the perfect hiding place.
No wonder his investigations in the surrounding area had yielded no leads.
After becoming a Floor Master, the entire floor became his private domain. Without his permission, even Heavens Arena staff were not allowed to enter.
It would be an ideal location for committing crimes.
The luxurious suites for fighters above the 200th floor were arranged between the 200th and 230th floors, adjacent to Aoba's 230th floor.
This provided him with perfect conditions for his crimes.
So many coincidences strung together made Mord highly suspicious of Aoba's identity.
After all, the intelligence provided by the Hunter's Tavern had never been wrong.
...
Above the 200th floor, every fighter was assigned a luxurious presidential suite—the treatment was undoubtedly excellent. If it were merely about honor, it wouldn't be enough to retain someone like Riehlvelt.
After arriving at his own room, Mord quickly received a notification from Heavens Arena through the room's display screen.
It informed him of his next duel.
Opponent: Riehlvelt.
Date: Tomorrow!
Since Mord had checked the option indicating he was ready to fight at any time, the timing tomorrow was set by Riehlvelt.
"It seems these guys can't wait to devour me," Mord murmured, a slight smile curling at the corner of his mouth.
"Perfect timing to use you as a test."
The next day, after finishing breakfast, Mord headed toward the arena with a relaxed expression.
The "Heavenly Cripple and Earthly Maimed" trio—even Gon, who had just learned the basics of Nen, had utterly crushed them. Facing them, Mord felt no pressure at all.
The audience was quite large. Walking through the fighter's passage, Mord could already hear the cheers from outside.
Every time a rookie broke through to the 200th floor and faced a veteran fighter, it became a major event.
Just as the female commentator was saying at that moment:
"Next up is a highly anticipated battle!"
"On one side, the supernova Mord, who has surged forward with unstoppable momentum, achieving zero losses all the way to the 200th floor!"
"On the other side, our old acquaintance at the 200th floor, Riehlvelt!"
"Who will emerge victorious in today's fight? Let's wait and see!"
In the audience, it wasn't just ordinary spectators and gamblers watching this duel—there were also other fighters from the 200th floor.
Knowing oneself and the enemy, they had come to witness firsthand the strength of this newcomer, Mord.
Although in most cases, rookies undergoing the initiation ended up utterly defeated, there had been one or two freaks over the years.
Will it be the dark horse newcomer overturning the established powerhouse, soaring to new heights, or will the veteran defend their honor, upholding the tradition of baptizing newcomers by crushing them thoroughly, even to the point of death?
The answer will soon be revealed.
"Begin the match!"
Riehlvelt looked coldly at Mord and said, "Don't worry, out of respect for Mr. Aoba, I won't kill you."
"What a coincidence—that's exactly what I wanted to say to you."
"Arrogance!" Riehlvelt reached behind his wheelchair and drew out two long whips.
"Serpent Duet—Song of Defense!"
Without holding back, Riehlvelt immediately unleashed his signature move. With overwhelming force, he whipped the two whips at high speed while his wheelchair automatically advanced slowly toward Mord.
The strength of this technique lay in its perfect balance of offense and defense—providing flawless protection while steadily closing in on the opponent, waiting for the right moment to strike!
Like a venomous snake baring its fangs.
"At this speed, no ordinary person can even see my attacks clearly. In such a confined space, you have nowhere to hide."
"Once I unleash this move, all you can do is wait for death! Hahaha!" Riehlvelt laughed maniacally.
Facing the dense web of whip shadows, Mord remained unfazed.