HxH: I Will Be Supreme

A week later, the Sky Arena's 49th floor was bustling with spectators.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Let's give a warm welcome to our next two contestants..." The white haired announcer's passionate voice boomed through the microphone. "In one corner, we have the 'Working Knight' Oboro, who has been making waves with an incredible record of 33 consecutive wins! And in the other corner, our veteran fighter, the 'Wind Walker' Gary Yousi, who has held his ground between the 40th and 50th floors!"

The crowd erupted in cheers.

"For our television viewers at home, contestant Oboro is wearing his signature outfit, knightly armor over a white shirt, paired with simple suit pants and leather shoes. This remarkable fighter achieved an unprecedented feat, advancing through the floors just ten days after registering in our Sky Arena. None of his opponents have lasted more than a single move, with matches averaging just two seconds, a record in Sky Arena history!"

"Can he continue this miracle today? We'll soon find out!"

"What makes Oboro even more fascinating is his apparent background as an ordinary office worker, who came seeking prize money! His matches draw massive crowds, particularly male office workers who see him as something of a spiritual leader. This unique appeal earned him the nickname 'Working Knight.'"

Oboro walked calmly into the ring, internally sighing at the spectacle.

His journey had started with one match daily, then two, then three. As his victories accumulated, he became eligible to challenge higher floors. His instant win matches caught the attention of both executives and spectators alike.

The Arena's rules had changed somewhat from what they would be eight years later. Back then, fighters like Gon and Killua were directly assigned to the 50th floor based on their strength. Now, most contestants, including Oboro, had to work their way up through challenges.

The Sky Arena had evolved into promoting promising fighters differently. At higher floors, they received more exposure. By the time Oboro reached the 20th floor, his matches were being broadcast on local television.

In essence, the Arena was deliberately marketing him. However, Oboro hadn't expected such a mundane nickname as "Working Knight," and he had no idea where the rumors about his office worker background had originated. The story seemed to grow more outlandish with each retelling.

Recently, people had even started asking for his autograph, all of them fellow men.

"Newcomer... your winning streak ends here," declared Gary Yousi from across the ring, his hair slicked back like a playboy rather than a fighter. "I've watched your matches, and while I admit they're... impressive, none of your previous opponents were truly notable. I'm different. I've maintained my position on the 50th floor without ever being eliminated..."

"Yes, yes... I understand," Oboro replied dismissively. He'd grown tired of opponents who felt compelled to monologue before matches.

"You-!" Veins bulged on Yousi's forehead at Oboro's apparent indifference.

"Let's begin," Oboro said, looking to the referee.

The whistle blew.

Oboro stood motionless, hands in his pockets, while Yousi immediately leaped backward like a grasshopper. The Wind Walker began circling Oboro, demonstrating the agility that had made him famous.

"There it is, folks! Contestant Yousi's signature physical technique!" the announcer shouted. "As many know, Yousi's incredible speed and reaction time make him a master of defensive counterattacks. Many opponents have fallen after failing to land a single hit!"

"Three seconds... three seconds have passed... Contestant Yousi has managed to extend the match into its fourth second!"

"Hahaha... What do you think?" Yousi taunted. "I'm not like those clumsy fighters you've faced. If you can't catch me, you can't win! Even if you attack, I can react- Bang!"

Before he could finish his boast, darkness filled his vision. Oboro had casually removed one hand from his pocket and landed a precise strike to Yousi's nose.

The crack of breaking bone echoed through the arena. Blood and broken teeth sprayed from Yousi's mouth as he flipped through the air, crashing outside the ring in a motionless heap.

"Tsk... couldn't you have gone down quietly?" Oboro shook his hand indifferently before returning it to his pocket and walking toward the exit.

The venue erupted in cheers.

"OOOHHH!" the announcer roared. "Once again, we witness the familiar scene! The winner is Oboro! Who can stop this terrifying newcomer's advance?"

"Knight! Knight!" chanted his fan club of office workers, their voices nearly shaking the dome apart.

"No... this title needs to change," Oboro muttered as he walked through the corridor back to the lounge.

The next day, after speaking with management, the announcer introduced him differently: "Let's welcome the 'Suit Thug'... Contestant Oboro!"

The matches continued, but the lower floors held little interest for him. Few opponents could match his physical abilities, and with their limited strength, they couldn't even showcase fighting techniques that might intrigue him.

Oboro's streak of victories continued. The Sky Arena officials, eager to capitalize on his popularity, built him into a "legendary" figure and granted him special privileges to challenge higher floors.

His rapid advancement, while lacking suspense, served the Arena's purposes perfectly. The officials understood that having him jump from the 70th floor to the 100th would raise questions about whether he could maintain his winning streak against significantly stronger opponents.

Within two weeks, Oboro had achieved unprecedented success, rocketing to the 150th floor. His daily schedule was packed, and his matches consistently sold out. His new moniker, "Suit Thug," had firmly replaced the previous nickname.

Upon reaching the 150th floor, the Arena changed its approach. They began matching him against each floor's strongest fighters, heavily promoting each bout. Ticket prices multiplied, and his matches were scheduled for prime time, limited to one per day.

The next day, in his luxurious private suite, an Arena staff member delivered information about his next opponent.

"Thanks," Oboro said, accepting the file.

After the staff member left, he tossed the document onto the table disinterestedly. He recalled how in the original timeline, Killua and Gon had used simple hand chops and pushes to defeat opponents below the 180th floor, causing similar sensations. This wasn't because the Arena fighters were weak, rather, it spoke to the extraordinary talent and aura potential of those two young Hunters.

Oboro stretched lazily, preparing to head out. Besides competing, he'd been investigating local casinos and betting odds. His winning streak had made his odds frustratingly low, leaving little profit potential. He wasn't ready to start taking bets himself yet.

As he was about to leave, a fallen sheet caught his eye. The photo and name on it made him pause:

Wing.

Oboro's expression shifted as he examined the document more carefully. The photo showed a young man in glasses and a loose shirt, wearing a warm smile. According to the file, he had advanced floor by floor over three months. His matches below the 100th floor had been quick victories, but he'd struggled above that level, facing defeat at the 149th floor. After reaching the 150th floor, he'd stopped advancing and now faced challengers as a floor master.

Unlike Oboro's instant-victory style that had captured public attention, Wing's steady progress hadn't earned him the Arena's marketing push. With countless fighters entering daily and many maintaining winning streaks, it took something spectacular, like Oboro's second long matches to truly stand out.

Despite Oboro's current fame, the Arena's real stars were the masters above the 200th floor. He was still just a notable newcomer.

"It's him indeed!" Oboro's eyes lit up as he set down the paper, abandoning his plans to go out.

Wing, Biscuit's apprentice, the one who would later teach Gon and Killua about nen flow control. He was also a practitioner of the Heart Source School of nen.

"His slower pace above the 100th floor makes sense now," Oboro mused. "He was focused on avoiding elimination while meeting official match requirements. No wonder he flew under the radar. Like the entertainment industry, new faces constantly replace the old. Miss a few days, and you're forgotten... especially someone with his style."

He walked to the phone and dialed. "Hello, I need Wing's past match videos."

The staff's efficiency was impressive, someone knocked moments later with the tapes.

Oboro spent the evening studying the footage.

"His style is traditional martial arts. Rather rigid, somewhat unpolished, with imperfect attack timing. He clearly trained before entering the Arena, but it wasn't enough."

"After the 100th floor, you can see him studying various martial arts styles, absorbing techniques. His slower schedule allowed for integration and self improvement. He must have been training during those gaps..."

"Which means... Biscuit must be here!"

"He's definitely a nen user, though he isn't using it in matches. Probably following Biscuit's instructions, relying purely on physical ability and martial arts, just like me."

"You've learned to control your nen... but you lack real combat experience?"

Oboro turned off the TV, gripping the remote as his eyes narrowed.

"What a coincidence!" A smile crept across his face. "I hope you can provide some entertainment."

He flexed his fingers. Now that he'd encountered Wing, it would be a waste not to have some fun.