Three old-timers plus one Kastro. Gotoh went out to handle the invitations, bringing back the official match schedule.
"As requested, the young master's match against Harrison is scheduled after Wing's. 'Divine Spear' Guy has been pushed back a day. I looked into Harrison's background. He's sadistic and gets pleasure from torturing opponents to death. Before coming to Heaven's Arena, he worked as an enforcer for gangs—all while holding a Hunter license. Then he raped and killed the boss's daughter, which put a bounty on his head on the dark web."
And he's still a licensed Hunter?
One slash, two slashes, three slashes. The cane sword stopped just short of Gotoh's nose.
Roy practiced Sun Breathing, then accepted a towel from Gotoh to wipe down the cane sword.
[Notification: "Constitution" +0.2]
Without looking up, he asked, "What about the other one?"
"The remaining 'Ninja' Kikuta Tadashi couldn't secure a slot—Harrison and Guy took priority." Gotoh pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses, carefully reminding Roy. "Young master, you rejected Kastro again. He's probably not going to take it well. Might cause trouble."
The butler's expression hardened. "It would be simpler to eliminate him."
Roy finished wiping the cane sword. He held it up at eye level, examining the blade as sunlight glinted off the polished steel, saying casually, "Someone's already at the door."
The doorbell rang. Gotoh frowned, opening the door to reveal Kastro's clean-cut face.
"Why won't you accept my challenge?"
"Why should I?"
Roy didn't even look at Kastro, testing the balance of his cane sword, familiarizing himself with the weapon.
Kastro squinted. "Are you afraid I'll beat you?"
Roy chuckled, casually glancing over. Gotoh stepped forward, towering over him, unleashing his killing intent like a crashing wave!
The pressure hit like a physical force. Gotoh's milky white Nen aura erupted, tinted red with anger, engulfing Kastro completely.
Kastro's eyes widened, his entire body tensing. I could die here. Every survival instinct screamed at him to run.
'I can't win. I have to run. If I don't—I'll die.'
His survival instinct drove him backward. Yet his legs betrayed him. He only managed one retreating step before stumbling and falling in the corridor, gasping for air.
Then he heard Roy's voice drift out. "Ignorance is bliss. But now you know better."
The door slammed shut, ending the confrontation.
Kastro remained on the floor for a long time before finally pulling himself up and leaving, dejected. His shadow stretched long across the corridor floor as he walked away.
Gotoh listened carefully, confirming his departure before turning to Roy. "The young master is still too kind. If you ask me, killing him would solve everything."
Killing solved most problems, but not all of them.
Roy sheathed the cane sword, transforming it back into an ordinary walking stick. The young man with sun and mountain earrings looked calmly at Gotoh. "If I killed someone over petty harassment, how would I be different from that Harrison you mentioned?"
Gotoh was undoubtedly loyal, prioritizing Roy's interests above all. He wouldn't consider conscience or morality—so Roy would consider it for him.
"I'm hungry. Go prepare dinner."
4 PM—time to allocate his attribute points again. Using hunger as an excuse to dismiss Gotoh, Roy opened the status panel. Learning from last time, he stripped and got in the shower. With a muffled groan, the transformation began. Soon, one minute passed. The young man emerged again, his frame taller than yesterday, his features increasingly refined.
When Gotoh returned with a food cart, Roy had already recovered. The next day, after receiving tickets Wing personally delivered, he made his way to the audience seats, quietly awaiting the show.
'Why has this kid's aura surged again?' As her disciple took the stage, naturally his master watched from the stands. Biscuit was perceptive. Upon entering the audience, her first glance spotted Roy—or rather, she'd simply instructed Wing to buy adjacent tickets, plopping down beside Roy.
"Handsome guy, good evening." Twin tails swinging, the "maiden" first greeted the cold-eyed Gotoh before smiling and leaning toward Roy. "Little Roy, have you eaten? Big sis has some candy. Want one?" Biscuit pulled out several lollipops from her pocket, holding one in her mouth while stuffing another into Roy's hand.
Seeing Roy didn't refuse, she sat back grinning.
Soon, the hostess entered, hyping up the crowd. Tens of thousands of spectators followed her lead, their excitement building to a fever pitch—lively and enthusiastic.
Roy got caught up in the excitement, finding it entertaining. Biscuit leaned over. "Someone's in a good mood."
Roy smiled, completely ignoring her. When Wing and Morris took the stage, the crowd erupted. The young man tapped the armrest with his fingers, clearly enjoying himself.
Biscuit looked somewhat surprised, her tone turning serious. "Showing happiness so openly—as an assassin, you're a complete failure."
Roy wasn't annoyed, watching Wing roll up his sleeves preparing to fight. "I just don't like pretending like some people," he replied dryly.
"That's not pretending—it's misdirection," Biscuit argued. "Right, psychological warfare!"
"Whatever you say." Roy wasn't interested in arguing. Let the old woman think what she wants—it's none of my business anyway.
"The match officially begins!" At the host's signal, the battle began!
Wing and Morris simultaneously struck. Fists and palms wrapped in Nen aura collided, both retreating after one exchange. This was just feeling each other out. Enhancer Wing versus Transmuter Morris—despite a ten-year age difference, they both retreated three meters evenly. Biscuit's training methods were clearly effective.
The old woman kicked her legs excitedly, proudly glancing at Roy. Practically writing "See, this is my disciple" on her face. Next, as Wing delivered straight punches and whip kicks, fighting methodically and gaining the upper hand, those twin tails of hers practically bounced with joy. She couldn't help raising her fist at Roy. "Look, this is true conviction!"
Shingen-ryu emphasized the heart. Roy had to admit—in terms of raw strength, Wing definitely wasn't as strong as the tall, burly Morris. Yet Morris was steadily being pushed back.
Roy couldn't help but think of Netero—praying before every punch. Blurting out, "So this is about honoring the martial arts that shaped you?"
The smug Biscuit suddenly froze!