In the medical ward of Heavens Arena, white light spilled over the pristine sheets, the air faintly tinged with the scent of disinfectant.
Kastro sat propped up on the hospital bed, his body wrapped in white bandages.
A trace of resignation colored his expression as he turned his head to glance at Morrow seated beside him.
"Master, the organizers of Battle Olympia definitely didn't expect you to just walk away after winning the match."
Through the live broadcast, Kastro had witnessed Morrow ignore the referee's attempts to stop him and stride straight off the stage after his victory.
Countless eyes had been fixed on Morrow at that moment.
Yet he hadn't cared in the slightest, as though the cheers and applause had nothing to do with him.
Such a thing had never happened before, completely catching everyone off guard.
The organizers of Battle Olympia clearly had no contingency plan for this scenario and could only watch helplessly as Morrow left, leaving the crown symbolizing the highest honor behind on the stage.
When Kastro first saw this, he had simply smiled knowingly at the TV screen.
He understood some of his master's ways and knew Morrow's true purpose for coming to Heavens Arena.
Unlike martial artists like them, who fixated solely on the "result," his master had always pursued the "process" of striving upward.
So when Morrow stepped off the stage, Kastro hadn't been surprised.
But when Morrow walked into the ward and sat beside him, Kastro could no longer muster a smile.
"Won't the audience who supported you be disappointed?"
Kastro murmured softly.
Morrow didn't answer immediately, his mind flashing back to the scene after he had slain the Floor Master Shiroishi on the stage.
At that time, the cheers of the crowd had come as expected.
Only now, they carried a frenzied, bloodthirsty cruelty.
Disappointed?
Perhaps some would be.
But what did those voices, those expectations, have to do with him?
"That doesn't matter."
Morrow shook his head slightly before changing the subject. "What did the doctor say?"
Hearing this, Kastro's voice carried a hint of bitterness. "After observing me these past few days, the doctor said there's no irreversible damage, and the chances of lasting effects are slim. But… I'll need at least two months of bed rest."
Two months.
For Kastro, this wasn't just a period of recovery but also a stagnation in his training progress.
Ever since Morrow had guided him into the Nen World, the hunger in his heart had only grown stronger.
He longed to break through his limits, to stride forward boldly in that world teeming with monsters.
And these two months of forced inactivity would undoubtedly be torture.
Morrow looked at Kastro, fully aware of why he sighed.
At their core, Kastro and he were the same, only their driving forces differed.
"Two months… that is quite long."
Morrow chuckled before speaking seriously. "But you can use this time to solidify your mastery of 'Ten' and 'Zetsu.' Training isn't just about advancing your Nen, tempering your mind is just as important."
As someone who had walked this path before…
Morrow's words carried an inexplicable weight when he spoke to Kastro like this.
Kastro froze for a moment before nodding in understanding.
Right.
Even if his body wasn't fit for movement, he could still focus on refining techniques like "Ten."
Morrow looked at Kastro, thinking to himself that given the characteristics of the Enhancement type, it shouldn't take a full two months to recover completely.
However, if Kastro could slightly lower his distant gaze during his recovery and instead let his temperament settle further, it would be beneficial.
From his previous match with Orion, Morrow had at least seen significant progress in Kastro's mentality.
Buzz...
The sudden vibration of his phone broke the silence.
Morrow took out his phone and glanced at it—it was a text from Biscuit.
"Where are you? Get back here now!"
After reading the message, Morrow didn't reply, simply putting his phone away.
—--
About ten minutes later.
Morrow returned to the luxury apartment on the 244th floor.
As soon as he pushed the door open, he saw Biscuit standing in the entryway with her hands on her hips, clearly having waited impatiently for a long time.
Not bothering to ask how Biscuit had gotten in, that would be a stupid question, Morrow calmly changed into his slippers, then glanced at her expression and shook his head. "The prize hasn't been given to me yet. No matter how impatient you are, it won't help."
"You're the one who just ran off!" Biscuit snapped.
At first, she had thought Morrow's indifference to the championship glory was pretty cool.
But then, due to the sudden appearance of the Post-Mortem Will, she hadn't immediately thought about the "champion's prize."
Normally, after winning a match, Morrow would have had to give a victory speech, do some interviews, and then there would be a grand award ceremony!
But Morrow had just left like that. Even if the Battle Olympia organizers wanted to give him the prize, they couldn't.
"I'll go get it once the crowd has mostly dispersed," Morrow said casually, completely unfazed.
"Fine, fine. It's your prize anyway, take it whenever you feel like it." Seeing Morrow's indifferent expression, Biscuit felt helpless. She then straightened up and asked seriously, "Forget the prize. What about that Post-Mortem Nen?"
"So that's the real reason you rushed over here in such a hurry?"
Morrow walked toward the bar. He had originally planned to grab a bottle of cold milk from the fridge, but to preemptively shut down any teasing from Biscuit, he changed his mind at the last second and took a bottle of room-temperature milk instead.
Biscuit watched his back and pouted. "Cut the nonsense. What happened to it?"
"It's dealt with."
Morrow carried the milk to the living room.
Biscuit followed and plopped onto the sofa without a shred of ladylike grace, her eyes wide with curiosity. "That Post-Mortem Will was so intense. How come you make it seem like it was nothing?"
Then, she quickly added, "You don't have to answer if you don't want to."
"It wasn't as easy as you think."
Morrow placed the milk in front of Biscuit and said calmly, "While performing the Exorcism, that Post-Mortem Nen kept trying to shake my resolve, urging me to inherit the future of the 'Mind Illusion Style.'"
"…!"
Biscuit suddenly sat up straight, her brow furrowing deeply.
Exorcists usually adhered to the principle of "not wanting anyone to see their ability."
But the process of Exorcism, which involved transferring the risk to oneself, was something Nen users like Biscuit were relatively familiar with.
So when she heard Morrow's words, she was genuinely startled.
The most troublesome aspect of Post-Mortem Nen was often its deep psychological influence.
"Don't worry. I have no interest in the 'Mind Illusion Style.'"
Morrow smiled and said, "Perhaps because of that, the subsequent removal process went smoothly."
"That's good to hear."
Biscuit let out a relieved sigh upon hearing this.
"Biscuit."
"Hmm?"
"I can give you the Corundum Heart and Dome Treasure Box directly, but on one condition."
Morrow moved past the topic of Exorcism and directly brought up the championship prizes that Biscuit cared about.
Biscuit raised an eyebrow. "Let's hear it."
"If Kurapika passes this year's Hunter Exam, I want you to take the initiative to take on the task of teaching him Nen."
Morrow stated his condition.
"Huh?!"
Biscuit was stunned for a moment before immediately showing an expression of utter disdain.
Some Pro Hunters aiming for two stars would voluntarily take on the responsibility of teaching Nen to those who passed the Hunter Exam after it concluded.
Biscuit had done this before and, as expected, earned her second star.
But now, to go back and do something like that again? That was pure torture!
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Bonus chapter for the other new review.