"It's a bit ridiculous."
"Bach isn't weak. He advanced to the 50th floor with an impressive win just recently."
"Honestly, his true strength exceeds the 50th floor."
"Who is that kid, anyway?"
"He's just a teenager."
"And yet Bach was defeated that easily…"
"Unbelievable."
"Pushing Bach like that with one palm—what kind of monster is he?"
After his victory, Kaizen made his way to the 70th floor of Heavens Arena to register for the next competition. He also signed up for a match the following day.
At these higher levels, matches are scheduled less frequently. The arenas grow larger, the audience sections expand, and the competition becomes more exclusive.
On the first floor alone, there are one hundred arenas, meaning a hundred matches can happen simultaneously. But by the second floor, that number drops to eighty. By the 50th floor, only thirty arenas remain.
Kaizen scanned the layout for the 70th floor. There were only ten rings in total:
Two matches in the morning
Three in the afternoon
Two in the evening
That made for just seven matches per day. And as you climb even higher, matches become even scarcer.
By the time evening came, Kaizen left Heavens Arena and returned to his previous hotel. After glancing at the familiar surroundings, he decided to switch accommodations and walked toward a different hotel.
There was a narrow alley cutting between the two buildings. As Kaizen stepped into it, his senses prickled with warning.
Whoosh!
A shadowy figure lunged at him, brandishing a sharp blade.
Kaizen shifted his weight instinctively, dodging the strike with ease. The attacker stumbled as the blade slashed through empty air.
That's when Kaizen noticed—the weapon wasn't a knife at all. It was a pair of scissors.
And not just any scissors.
Aura clung to the blades, radiating an ominous intent.
"Nen-infused... but I don't sense any aura from the user himself," Kaizen thought.
That meant one thing: the attacker wasn't a Nen user. He'd just come into possession of a tool infused with someone else's aura, likely by accident or black market trade.
The man didn't seem bothered by his failed ambush. Instead, he straightened and smirked.
"Well now, little guy. Not bad at all."
"I saw you fight in Heavens Arena. Speed that no ordinary person could track... And the power to knock down that bloated pig like it was nothing."
He grinned wider, his lips stretching unnaturally.
"But from that little exchange, I can tell... You're still holding back."
"You don't belong on the 70th floor. With your strength, you should be on the 100th."
Then the man's grin turned even more twisted.
"But..."
Kaizen narrowed his eyes as the moonlight illuminated the attacker's face. His expression was grotesque, his mouth scarred on both sides, stretching the corners all the way to his ears. Even without smiling, his face looked like a permanent, deranged grin.
"You ever heard of me, kid?"
Kaizen frowned, sifting through memories of a certain unsettling character from an old movie. But no... nothing quite matched.
"Nope. Never heard of you."
The man froze for a moment, his twisted grin faltering.
"Never heard of me?" he repeated, his voice tight with irritation.
"You little punk... Are you looking down on me?"
He pointed the scissors toward Kaizen, his expression now filled with fury.
"I'm the Rift Maniac! I killed twenty-six young girls in this city—one after another!"
"They screamed... begged... wet themselves in fear."
He shuddered with delight at the memory.
"It was beautiful. Pure pleasure."
"This entire city... lives in terror of me!"
"They deserve it, anyway. Everyone who ever mocked me, rejected me—they got exactly what they deserved!"
"Laughing at me... humiliating me... treating me like garbage!"
He snarled, his voice rising.
"Damn them all!"
Kaizen rolled his eyes. None of this interested him.
The man's ramblings? A waste of time.
This so-called Rift Maniac? Just a nuisance.
What mattered was one thing.
Kaizen stared coldly at the man and asked:
"Why are you targeting me?"
"I'm not a woman, I've never met you before, and I only just arrived in this city. So... who sent you?"
The Rift Maniac's grin faltered again. Irritation flickered in his eyes as he realized Kaizen wasn't intimidated.
"You sure know how to ruin a good monologue, kid," the man muttered, annoyed.
"But fine. Since you're about to die anyway, I'll be generous and tell you the truth."
"I got your name off a killer-for-hire website."
"As long as I kill you, I'll get a nice payout—one million Jenny."
"Who's the client?"
The man shrugged. "Beats me. The orders are always anonymous. I don't care about that stuff. I just kill who I'm told to kill and collect my commission."
He flipped the scissors in his hand, his grin returning.
"Alright, kid. Time to fight back."
"I'll even give you a chance to resist."
"Not that it'll help, of course. Everyone I target ends up dead sooner or later."
Kaizen gave the Rift Maniac a calm, disinterested glance.
"Is that so?"
From the rooftop of a nearby building, Zeno observed the scene below with a sigh.
"This is... embarrassing."
He shook his head in disbelief.
"A clown like that? Registered as an assassin? What a joke."
"These so-called 'perverted murderers' are utterly useless..."
"They can't even fulfill the simplest test."
Zeno folded his arms, contemplating for a moment.
"Looks like we'll need to increase the bounty to attract better talent."
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