Chapter 18: Closing the Net
"Kid, you really have no manners, do you!"
At that point, Biscuit dropped her act, planting her hands on her hips and glaring angrily.
Considering she was nearly fifty years old, calling Haze"kid" was perfectly natural for her.
"You came to check up on me?"
Hazecalmed down, moving toward the nearby bed and sitting down as if getting ready to sleep.
"What's your relationship with this Wing?"
Biscuit averted her gaze, pretending to be uninterested in him.
There was no reason for the two of them to fight.
Mainly because even though the old lady was deeply curious about Hazeand wanted to learn more she despised the idea of clashing with him.
After all, it was Wing, not her, who was scheduled to fight Haze.
And besides, the rules of Heaven's Arena were clear: registered fighters were strictly forbidden from engaging in lethal combat.
As for training matches or sparring? That was another story entirely.
Biscuit stomped the floor twice and headed for the door.
She was leaving.
If she stayed any Hazeer, she feared the boy might learn more about her or about Wing than she wanted him to.
She'd already witnessed firsthand just how sharp and cunning Hazecould be.
"Leaving? Without even saying goodbye?"
Hazesmiled faintly from the bed.
Bang!
Biscuit slammed the door behind her.
Once outside, her angry expression slowly faded. She bit her thumb, eyes darkening as she muttered to herself:
"The moment I threw that punch, his muscles reacted reflexively instantly tensing and hardening like steel. It wasn't thought; it was pure instinct. The kind honed through years of martial discipline… controlling blood flow through every vein, distributing it perfectly across his body… In that split second, his heartbeat spiked explosively."
"He sensed the change in my aura… and still managed to defend."
"Even though I controlled my aura perfectly… he could still feel it."
"At only eighteen… his physical talent is extraordinary but not the highest I've seen. For him to refine his body this far at such a young age… he must have some kind of key, a special method to unlock his body's hidden potential. A secret training art, perhaps? A family lineage… or maybe a unique school technique…"
After thinking for a while, Biscuit returned to Wing's room.
"Back already?!"
Wing, who had been rewatching Haze's match on loop, was startled by the sound of the door.
"Withdraw."
Biscuit's tone was cold and serious.
"Huh?"
Wing blinked in confusion.
"Do not fight tomorrow. You are not his match."
"I know…" Wing admitted, nodding. The more he studied the footage, the more he realized just how impossible defeating Hazewould be. "But… I'm not expecting to win. You said I could learn a lot from the fight, so I'd still like to try."
"No."
Biscuit shook her twin tails sharply.
"Why?"
"That brat is far more dangerous than I imagined… and he's wicked. A sly, arrogant little bastard. If he inflicts permanent damage on you in the ring, it'll ruin the whole reason I brought you here to Heaven's Arena to train!"
Her irritated tone made Wing glance up curiously.
Was she… flustered?
Wing rarely saw his master react like this.
That Hazereally must be something special.
"Alright, I'll listen to you."
Wing smiled gently and adjusted his glasses.
In another room…
Hazelifted the arm Biscuit had injured and recalled the instant her aura had flared during the attack.
"As expected… age comes with experience," he murmured.
What he'd sensed in her was something extreme not in power, but in purity.
A body tempered like steel under ten thousand hammers.
Her physical refinement felt like the pinnacle of human conditioning.
Reaching that level himself, at least in a short time, would be nearly impossible.
"If she were a real enemy… how Haze could I last against her?"
Hazenarrowed his eyes.
As a disciple of the "Heart Source School," he knew Netero and Biscuit shared a certain pride and restraint.
That's why he hadn't worried about inviting her to his room he knew she wouldn't go beyond certain limits.
Unless under extreme circumstances, it wasn't truly dangerous.
"Ladies and gentlemen! I know you've all been waiting eagerly for today's match! On one side, we have a rising star continuing his legendary streak on the other, a dark horse who's soared to the 150th floor in record time!"
"Will the Suit Bully's winning streak continue, or… will it finally end?!"
"We can see Hazeis taking this fight seriously he's swapped his usual white shirt for a full suit jacket, looking every bit the dignified enforcer! Even took off those trademark sunglasses clearly, he means business today!"
By noon the next day, the atmosphere on the 150th floor was electric.
The packed audience roared as the host hyped up the crowd.
Cameras surrounded the square arena, snapping photos from every angle.
Under the spotlights, Hazestood alone, hands in his pockets, dressed sharply in a black tuxedo.
Wing was nowhere to be seen still hidden backstage.
"Eh? Is something wrong with contestant Wing?"
The sweating host tried to stall for time as the crowd began to boo. Finally, after receiving word through his earpiece, he announced:
"Ah… everyone, we've just received notice that contestant Wing has withdrawn from the competition. Therefore today's winner is… Haze!"
The audience erupted not in cheers, but in dismay.
Hazedidn't look surprised. He just frowned slightly.
He had genuinely looked forward to that fight. Wing, a Nen user from the story's original cast, would've been an exciting challenge to spice up the monotony.
But now… his opponent had forfeited.
"This must be Biscuit's doing," he thought quietly, leaving the arena.
"How terrifying our Suit Bully wins yet again! Even at the 150th floor, his reputation alone is enough to scare opponents away!"
The host's voice echoed through the hall, but the crowd was furious.
Trash littered the floor, and jeers filled the air.
They'd paid good money for the match and saw nothing. Naturally, they were upset.
To Haze, though, it was meaningless.
He had no interest in fighting people who'd already lost their fighting spirit.
Those who couldn't even face themselves weren't worth his time.
If it were Hisoka… even knowing death was certain, that lunatic would've relished the fight.
For some reason, Hazefound himself missing Hisoka a little.
There was a reason that pervert had become such a formidable Nen user.
As for Illumi… though he'd do anything for money, in a true life-or-death situation, he wouldn't act like Hisoka.
Illumi valued survival above all else. His rationality, his coldness that was the Zoldyck way.
He wouldn't throw his life away needlessly. But if he couldn't win head-on, he'd find another path outside help, manipulation, poison, anything. Dirty or not, as Haze as the target died, it was "correct."
That was Illumi.
Still, if someone threatened what he truly cared about say, Killua that calm logic would shatter instantly.
"Tch… I came out here to relax, and I'm thinking about them again? What a pain."
Under the bright afternoon sun, Hazesat beneath a café umbrella, sipping juice through a straw.
He sighed lightly and forced the images of two familiar faces out of his mind
the clown and the brother.
It had already been over a month since he arrived at Heaven's Arena.
As expected, he'd built a perfect streak instant kills, flawless victories, a growing legend that carried him all the way to the 200th floor.
He'd also earned what he came for: a massive prize pool, totaling hundreds of millions.
"Next… the real stage begins."
He smiled faintly, clearly pleased.
The 200th floor was a completely different world both for fighters and spectators.
Anyone who reached it was considered a true professional.
He had registered for the 200th floor the day before.
After a short wait, the person he'd been expecting finally appeared.
A bald man with a shiny head jogged over under the sunlight.
It was Char, the kindhearted man who'd once asked for his autograph on the bus and even donated money afterward.
Sadly, Char hadn't risen to fame. He'd been eliminated around the 60th floor and had to start over again. Five years of effort had only improved his record by twenty floors.
When Hazelater became famous, Char reappeared insisting on becoming his disciple.
Hazerefused.
So Char simply followed him everywhere, like a loyal attendant.
Now, he was Haze's self-proclaimed Number One Lackey.
"So, how is it?" Hazeasked lazily as Char approached.
Char took a gulp of water before answering.
"I've been to every casino, big and small. The odds are crazy everyone's betting against your loss. Even the dealers think you can't be beaten. Above the 200th floor though… things change. I think the Arena itself is pushing your legend now, and the audience wants to see you keep winning."
"What are the odds for my next opponent?" Hazeasked.
"Yours are 1.5 to 1. His are… seventy-eight."
Haze's eyes narrowed.
Finally. Time to move.
He'd been waiting patiently for this moment.
A pig needed to be fattened before slaughter.
"Alright, spread the word," he said with a faint grin. "Bet everything on my opponent."
"Huh?! Master you're giving up?"
Char was stunned.
Of course, Hazehad never officially taken him as a student, but Char insisted on calling him "Master" anyway.
"What?" Hazeraised an eyebrow.
"You're… losing your fighting spirit…"
Char's voice trembled. He admired Hazedeeply, believing he could win effortlessly, even at the 200th floor.
The man was simple, pure, and earnest too much so.
"You can't eat 'fighting spirit,'" Hazemuttered. "Now go do what I told you."
His goal in coming to Heaven's Arena was money nothing more.
Char clearly didn't get that.
"It's not giving up. I'll still fight. I'm just… taking it easy."
Seeing Char hesitate like a giant child, Hazerubbed his temples in exasperation and waved him off.
Reluctantly, Char trudged away.
"The 200th floor… the realm of Nen users. It won't be as easy as before. I just hope… it's at least fun."
Finishing his drink, Hazerose and walked slowly into the bustling crowd disappearing down the busy street.
(End of Chapter 18)