HxH: I Will Be Supreme

"You insolent brat, you have absolutely no manners!" 

Having reached this point, Biscuit dropped her act, placing her hands on her hips and speaking angrily.

Being nearly fifty years old, it was only natural for her to view Oboro as a mere youngster.

"Are you here to assess me?"

Oboro withdrew his aura and walked to the nearby bed, as if preparing to retire.

"What's your connection to Wing?"

Biscuit turned her head away, feigning disinterest in Oboro.

There was no reason for them to fight.

Primarily... while the veteran Hunter was intensely curious about Oboro and eager to investigate him further, she had no desire to engage in combat.

After all, Wing was the one scheduled to face Oboro, not her.

Moreover, Heaven's Arena had strict regulations for registered fighters.

At minimum, within Heaven's Arena, death matches were absolutely forbidden.

As for sparring or regulated matches... those were different matters.

*Tap, tap, tap.*

Biscuit's footsteps echoed firmly against the floor as she walked toward the door.

She was leaving...

Staying any longer would only give the young man more opportunities to analyze both her and Wing.

She had witnessed Oboro's cunning intellect firsthand.

"Leaving already? Without a proper goodbye?"

Oboro smiled faintly from his position on the bed.

BANG!

Biscuit's response was to slam the door shut.

Once outside, the seemingly angry Biscuit suddenly grew pensive, biting her finger in thought: "The instant I struck, his muscles responded with perfect conditioning. His body became as solid as steel, purely from martial arts instinct rather than conscious thought... He regulated his blood flow throughout his entire body... In that split second, his heart's output increased explosively..."

"He detected the shift in my aura, allowing him to defend preemptively."

"Even though I controlled my aura with utmost precision, he still sensed it..."

"Eighteen years old... His physical potential is remarkable, though not the most extraordinary I've encountered. Yet at such a young age, to possess such conditioning... The only explanation is that he must have access to an exceptional 'key' to unlock the body's potential some form of advanced training method... Combined with his martial arts mastery, he likely began training in early childhood... Family techniques perhaps? Or possibly from a specific school..."

After contemplating this, Biscuit returned to Wing's room.

"Back so soon?!"

Wing, still reviewing match footage, was startled by her sudden return.

"Withdraw!"

Biscuit faced her student with grave seriousness.

"What?"

Wing didn't understand her sudden declaration.

"Forfeit tomorrow's match. He's beyond your current abilities."

"I know..." Wing nodded. The more he had studied Oboro's matches, the clearer it became how difficult defeating this opponent would be. "But... victory isn't my goal. As you said, facing him would be invaluable experience... I want to try."

"No."

Biscuit shook her twin ponytails with absolute determination.

"Why?"

"That brat is far more dangerous than I anticipated... and his intentions are questionable... He's absolutely... ruthless and calculating. Once you enter that ring, if he causes you permanent harm, the entire purpose of bringing you to Heaven's Arena for training becomes meaningless..."

Biscuit's uncharacteristic anger only heightened Wing's curiosity about Oboro.

From her reaction... Biscuit seemed... frustrated?

Wing rarely saw his master respond this way...

This was... unusual.

"Very well, I'll follow your guidance."

Wing smiled gently, adjusting his glasses.

...

In his room, Oboro raised the arm Biscuit had struck, reflecting on the sudden transformation in the girl's aura during her attack. He murmured, "Indeed... Experience makes a difference."

He had witnessed a kind of "perfection" in Biscuit. Though not overwhelming in raw power, it was incredibly pure!

A body refined through countless trials!

The veteran Hunter's physical development had reached a pinnacle that, at least for now, seemed beyond his reach.

The likelihood of matching that level in the near future was minimal.

"If she were truly my enemy, how long could I last..."

His eyes narrowed in thought.

The disciples of Shingen ryu were known for their integrity... Whether Netero or Biscuit, so Oboro hadn't worried about inviting her into his room. Even if confrontation occurred, he doubted there would be real danger... Barring extreme circumstances, nothing too serious would typically happen.

...

"Ladies and gentlemen! I know you've all been eagerly anticipating today's match... One fighter is our terrifying newcomer continuing his legendary run, while the other is a dark horse who has also swiftly risen to the 150th floor..."

"Will the Gentleman Fighter's winning streak continue? Or will it finally end?"

"We can see that... Contestant Oboro is taking this match quite seriously. He's foregone his usual white shirt for a formal suit jacket, emanating an executive presence... He's even removed his signature sunglasses... Clearly showing his commitment to this fight, living up to his reputation as the Gentleman Fighter."

The following day at noon, the 150th floor arena buzzed with energy, every seat filled as the crowd roared like thunder.

The announcer continued building anticipation.

A ring of cameras surrounded the square arena, all focused on Oboro.

Under the spotlights stood Oboro alone, hands in his pockets, dressed in black formal wear.

Wing never emerged from the opposite contestant entrance.

"Eh? Has our contestant Wing encountered some issue?"

The announcer was sweating profusely, trying to stall until the crowd's jeers forced him to seek clarification from management.

"Ah... dear audience members, we've just received word that contestant Wing has forfeited the match, so... the winner is contestant Oboro!"

Upon hearing this, Oboro showed little surprise, merely frowning slightly.

Before reaching the 200th floor, Oboro had looked forward to facing Wing, another Nen user who played a role in the story... It would have added flavor to an otherwise monotonous schedule. Unexpectedly, Wing had chosen to forfeit.

"Must be Biscuit's decision..."

The thought crossed his mind as Oboro slowly departed.

"Incredible... This is our Gentleman Fighter. Even at the 150th floor, his reputation alone terrifies opponents..."

In the arena, the announcer continued his commentary.

But the crowd had begun throwing debris onto the field... accompanied by widespread booing.

They'd purchased tickets expecting a show... naturally, they were dissatisfied with the outcome.

The match with Wing was merely an episode.

Since his opponent showed no interest in fighting, Oboro simply let it pass.

He had no interest in those who'd lost their fighting spirit and lacked the courage to test themselves.

If it were that madman Hisoka... even knowing death was certain, he'd eagerly embrace the thrill of combat without hesitation.

For some reason, Oboro found himself missing Hisoka slightly...

There was a reason that eccentric had become one of the most formidable Nen users.

As for Illumi... while he seemed willing to do anything for money, in truly life threatening situations, he likely wouldn't match Hisoka's approach. In Illumi's mind, self-preservation always came first, survival meant possibility.

He wouldn't act recklessly... This aligned with the Zoldyck family's philosophy, evident in his later control over Killua.

Though he wouldn't take unnecessary risks, Illumi viewed no target as unassailable... If direct confrontation proved impossible, alternative solutions existed, whether through external aid or... more insidious methods. Ethics were irrelevant, success justified the means.

From this perspective, Illumi would never truly yield to any opponent, but... his approach lacked Hisoka's directness.

Of course, this applied only to normal circumstances. If someone touched Illumi's true pressure point... everything changed.

For instance... Killua.

"Tch... I finally came out to relax, why am I thinking about them... How annoying."

On this sunny day, Oboro sat suited before a beverage shop on the commercial street, sipping juice under an umbrella.

With a sigh, he forcibly pushed away the two faces that had surfaced in his mind.

The magician and the manipulator.

By now, more than a month had passed since his arrival at Heaven's Arena.

As expected, he had won consistently, building his "legend" through zero losses, instant victories, and various broken records, reaching the 200th floor.

He had also achieved his goal of accumulating hundreds of millions in prize money.

"Next... comes the real challenge..."

Oboro smiled slightly, appearing quite pleased.

The 200th floor and below were two different worlds in Heaven's Arena. This wasn't just the fighters' perception, but the audience's view as well... Those who reached the 200th floor were true "stars."

He had already registered for the 200th floor yesterday.

After a short wait, the person Oboro anticipated finally arrived.

A bald man approached jogging, his head gleaming in the sunlight.

Rothschild was the kind soul who had signed an autograph for Oboro on the bus... and generously offered him money after disembarking.

Unfortunately, Bald Charles hadn't found instant success. He was eliminated around the sixtieth floor and had to start climbing again... In other words, five years of dedicated training had only improved his performance by twenty floors compared to his first Heaven's Arena attempt.

Later, when Oboro became a celebrity in Heaven's Arena, Charles had approached requesting to become his disciple... Oboro declined, so Charles became his follower instead, trailing Oboro everywhere with determination to grow stronger.

Now he served as Oboro's primary assistant.

"How's it looking?"

As Charles approached, Oboro asked languidly.

Charles grabbed the water glass from the table, taking a large gulp before responding, "I've checked every casino, large and small. Your odds are still very low. The bookmakers don't seem to think you'll lose... Even though the situation above the 200th floor is different... I suspect Heaven's Arena is building momentum for you, and... regular spectators hope to see your legend continue..."

"What are the odds on the other side?"

Oboro inquired further.

"Your odds are 1.5... your next opponent's are 78."

Charles reported.

They've risen that high... time to act!

A smile tugged at Oboro's lips. He had maintained his low profile precisely for this moment.

The pig needed fattening before slaughter.

"Help me distribute the money gradually... bet it all on my opponent to win," Oboro said, smiling.

"What? Master... are you planning to throw the match?"

Charles was stunned.

Oboro hadn't accepted him as a disciple, Charles had simply insisted on the title.

"Problem?" Oboro raised an eyebrow.

"You're... losing your fighting spirit..."

Clearly, Charles deeply admired Oboro. He believed... Oboro could continue winning easily, even at the 200th floor.

Charles was straightforward and honest to a fault.

"Fighting spirit doesn't pay the bills. Just do as I ask." Oboro couldn't explain that his primary purpose in Heaven's Arena was monetary gain.

It seemed too crude... Charles probably wouldn't understand.

"I'm not throwing the match. We'll still fight. I'm just going to hold back... Now go."

Seeing the muscular man hesitate like a shy child, clearly wanting to object, Oboro rubbed his temples and urged him forward.

Charles departed reluctantly.

"The 200th floor... the Nen combat arena... It won't be as relaxing as before... Though hopefully it proves entertaining."

After finishing his juice, Oboro stood and merged into the bustling street, gradually disappearing into the crowd.