"Master Silva."
Shinji approached Silva quietly.
"What is it?" Silva asked, his tone calm but commanding.
"Master Kaizen called just now. He said he's arrived at Heavens Arena."
"I see."
With a small bow, Shinji left the courtyard. Even after all these years, Shinji couldn't help but feel a deep sense of awe toward Silva.
It wasn't just Silva's raw power that inspired this fear—it was the aura that radiated from him. Silva carried a presence that spoke of a man who had gone through rigorous training, taken countless lives, and become utterly indifferent to death.
Kaizen and the other butlers didn't exude that same ruthless energy.
At times, the Zoldyck estate felt warm, even peaceful. But then Silva would appear, and Shinji would be reminded of the harsh truth.
The Zoldyck family wasn't ordinary. They were the world's deadliest assassins. Killers lived by different rules.
Kaizen strode into the lobby of Heavens Arena, the towering structure bustling with fighters and spectators.
"I want to apply for a match," he said, walking straight to the reception desk.
Behind the counter sat a young woman with her hair tied up in a high bun, dressed in a neat red cheongsam. She looked up at the boy standing before her, momentarily surprised by how young he was.
"Are you here alone, kid?" she asked, glancing over Kaizen's shoulder, as if expecting an adult to appear.
Heavens Arena wasn't unfamiliar with young fighters. Many children trained from an early age to compete in the arena. The entire city revolved around martial prowess—there were dojos on every corner, and fighters gathered from all over the world, drawn by the Arena's reputation.
But even here, it was rare to see someone Kaizen's age show up without supervision.
"Do you know the rules? Where are your parents?" the woman asked, her tone more curious than concerned.
"I know the rules," Kaizen replied calmly. "And I don't need anyone with me."
The woman hesitated but didn't press further. "Alright, then. If you're sure."
However, the people behind Kaizen in line weren't so restrained.
"Hey, kid," one of them sneered. "This isn't a playground."
"How strong could you possibly be?" another chuckled. "Don't go crying when you get hurt, alright?"
Kaizen gave them a bored glance.
"Do you even know who I am?" he asked quietly.
"Oh? And who exactly are you?" the man mocked.
"I'm not here to make a name for myself," Kaizen said. "But if you don't know who I am, it might be wiser to keep quiet. I made it here alone, didn't I? What kind of people do you think would let me do that?"
The smirk vanished from the man's face. A flicker of doubt crossed his mind as Kaizen's words sank in. The Zoldycks were notorious for being unpredictable, and the possibility that the boy in front of him had powerful connections suddenly felt all too real.
Kaizen shook his head, uninterested in further conversation. Fighters of this level didn't even warrant his attention. He recalled a similar scene from family stories—how Maha Zoldyck once ignored the provocations of a fighter because the man wasn't worth his time.
And now, Kaizen found himself in the same position.
"No. 886!"
Kaizen's number was called, and he stepped into the ring. Waiting for him on the opposite side was one of the men who had mocked him in the lobby earlier.
The man sneered as Kaizen approached.
"Well, well. Looks like you got unlucky, kid."
Kaizen said nothing, his expression blank.
"Thought you were clever back there, huh? Bluffing like that?" the man jeered. "But in this ring, it doesn't matter what family you come from. If I kill you here, no one can say a word. That's the rule of Heavens Arena."
Kaizen's gaze sharpened slightly.
"You plan to kill me?" he asked softly.
"Of course. After what you said earlier, how could I not?" The man's voice dripped with malice, his face twisting with a mixture of rage and humiliation.
Kaizen sighed.
At first, he hadn't intended to take the fight seriously. The gap between their abilities was vast, like a carriage encountering a mantis—there was no need for him to exert any effort.
But now, with his opponent spouting threats, Kaizen felt the weight of his family's name pressing down on him.
Letting such a fool live after making threats would be an insult to the Zoldyck reputation.
Another job with no profit, Kaizen thought grimly.
As an assassin, killing without payment was always a waste. But sometimes, a point needed to be made.
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