Nine fights: seven wins, two losses.
Oboro put down his phone, which showed payment confirmations, and examined the documents in his other hand.
It was the profile of his next opponent.
It was an impressive record.
Of the two losses, one was merely a forfeit of registration because the ninety-day deadline had passed.
Only one real loss.
One win away from qualifying to challenge a Floor Master.
This fighter had specifically requested to face him... Management had sought Oboro's approval before accepting.
In the future, Hisoka would become a Floor Master after fighting Gon, with a record of eleven fights: eight wins and three losses, all of which were forfeits. Notably, six of Hisoka's matches were "no score" victories, meaning that six of his opponents had died in the ring.
His challenger had surrendered a total of only four points, three to Kastro.
According to Heaven's Arena rules, one knockdown, three clean strikes.
Oboro's meteoric rise was due not only to his winning streak, but also to the fact that he defeated his opponents instantly without conceding a single point.
Though many had winning records, they lagged in point differential.
Beep beep.
His phone continued to buzz with payment notifications.
Rough calculations showed that Jinsha's game had earned him over ten billion Jenny, enough for his immediate future.
Hundreds of billions weren't enormous wealth in the Hunter world, but it wasn't insignificant either.
He'd instructed Charles to spread the bets over several casinos to avoid scrutiny. Otherwise... a single casino losing tens of billions would inevitably be investigated, causing unnecessary complications.
Moreover, such favorable odds could only be exploited once.
The same trick wouldn't work twice.
Although not on the Yorbian continent, the Republic of Padokea still harbored extensive underground networks and organizations, and remained a significant underworld territory.
While the Ten Dons seemed ineffective in the original timeline, that was only in comparison to the Phantom Troupe and the Zoldyck family. The underworld's spread of control over 90% of various industries was no accident.
"Seven wins, two losses, only five points conceded... impressive."
The profile photo showed a man with dreadlocks, a lollipop between his teeth, gleaming white teeth in a wide smile.
"You must be one of the true powers above the 200th floor..."
Oboro smiled at the image.
He felt his expected challenge approaching!
...
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Days later, two aura-cloaked figures traded blows in the ring, fists and feet colliding at incredible speed.
Oboro maintained a defensive posture, arms protecting his head, eyes darting to track his opponent's aura movements, studying every detail.
But the dreadlocked fighter proved too quick!
CRASH!
A dark blur suddenly struck his forearm, the impact sending him sliding several meters despite his planted stance.
In front of him, Aisemilu, the dreadlocked man, bounced lightly like a boxer, headphones in his ears as if listening to music.
"Hey... what's wrong? Not going to attack?"
Aisemilu observed Oboro's defensive stance, raising an eyebrow: "Studying my style? Haha... Won't help..."
Whoosh!
He disappeared in mid-sentence.
"Left abdomen!"
Oboro's pupils constricted, his arms dropped to block while his aura hardened for maximum defense.
But the expected blow never came, instead an uppercut caught his chin.
The impact knocked Oboro off his feet.
In mid-flight, he slashed his fingers at Aisemilu's face.
The dreadlocked fighter whistled and tilted his head in a casual dodge.
Once in the air, Oboro's exceptional physical control allowed him to twist and turn to land upright. One hand dug into the arena floor like soft clay, carving a groove as he narrowly avoided being knocked out.
"Oboro is under intense pressure... He's completely on the defensive. Can he turn this around?!"
The announcer's excited commentary rang out.
This was Oboro's first clear disadvantage since arriving at Heaven's Arena... Though he'd lost his previous match, most suspected ulterior motives.
Stabilized, Oboro shot forward like a cannonball.
Aisemilu grinned, dancing and weaving... Oboro's knife blows cut the air with audible whistles, but couldn't find their target.
Each attack missed.
The floor of the ring bore countless slash marks from their exchange.
Each powerful blow shattered stone into fragments.
His offense varied, scattering debris to obscure vision, using a steely defense to strike back after taking hits.
Yet nothing inflicted significant damage...
Mostly because... the dreadlocked fighter simply avoided everything.
Even perfect aura tracking proved futile.
In the audience, Wing watched the fighters and turned to Biscuit: "Master..."
"Oboro clearly lacks experience in fighting true masters. They exist on different levels... He may have faced ordinary practitioners, but fighting a true expert follows a completely different rhythm. His Nen technique is refined, but his transitions are too slow, a true master can go through several Nen applications in seconds, switching seamlessly... It's not about skill, it's about experience, his raw ability and Nen understanding probably matches his opponent... But he can't adapt to the rhythm."
Biscuit seemed slightly smug, "He keeps Ko all over his body because he can't predict the attack points. Even with exceptional aura sensitivity... when his opponent varies his output, his 'perception' becomes unreliable."
"Meaning?"
Wing looked confused.
He couldn't analyze the battle at this level, unable to discern such nuances, relying on Biscuit's expertise.
"Because of the size of the ring and the point system, he can't just defend or evade, he has to engage directly! Once the dreadlocked fighter closes in, even if Oboro predicts the trajectory of the attack, it's meaningless. For there's a process between initiation and impact... A master can change attack angle and speed in milliseconds... Oboro's defense relies on sensing aura, neural processing, then instinctive reaction... Far too linear!"
Seeing Wing's continued confusion, Biscuit raised a finger.
"Remember your bullet analogy. You see a bullet and can react to dodge it. It travels at a constant speed in a straight line until a meter away. But in that last meter, it suddenly accelerates several times faster than before. Or it pauses briefly, changes direction to strike from behind, and then resumes its original course. Could you still avoid it?"
"Human perception and processing takes time."
"..."
Wing pondered.
"Of course you can dodge! The prerequisite is to adapt to their changes, to flow with them... that's rhythm." Biscuit rested her chin on her hand and continued, "This brat is clearly being toyed with. He's relying on raw power and physical strength to endure... but maintaining Ko constantly will drain his aura reserves, no matter how great they are."
"His fundamentals are excellent! But advanced techniques require refinement... He can use Ken, Ryu, and Ko effectively under normal circumstances, but high-intensity combat is different... He's clearly inexperienced... Like you, he needs extensive combat experience. This probably explains his presence in Heaven's Arena."
CRASH!
As she spoke, Oboro flew across the ring again. His injuries had worsened, one arm bleeding and limp.
"See the consequence. His aura is weakening, Expert Nen battles require precise calculation. Every bit of aura must be carefully managed. Waste nothing. Otherwise... death awaits."
Biscuit seemed unsurprised.
"His attacks appear to be varied, but his fighting mindset remains simplistic. Without the proper application of Nen, his physical strength and martial skill mean nothing."
Wing absorbed his teacher's analysis, understanding dawning.
Biscuit nodded.
"This Aisemilu..."
Wing looked at his opponent.
Anticipating his question, Biscuit explained, "The dreadlocked fighter probably uses Transmutation... Those headphones probably refer to his music. His punching speed and body movement are constantly shifting, fast then slow, defying prediction. That's why our friend is struggling."
"Double speed?" Wing adjusted his glasses.
"Hmm. His current peak is ten times his initial speed," Biscuit replied.
"Why didn't Oboro use his Hatsu? He's only used basic techniques... What's his ability?" Wing thought he had missed something.
"Uncertain... He didn't reveal it," Biscuit said.
"What?" Wing was startled. "Why?
The situation in the ring was deteriorating rapidly.
Aisemilu approached the heavily breathing Oboro, arms swinging loosely. Although he smiled brightly, his eyes remained cold.
"Impressive. You lasted longer than expected against me. Frankly, quite surprising."
"..."
Oboro frowned.
His left arm refused to react.
His opponent's Nen mastery was equal to his own, but the difference in experience was obvious.
Every strategy of his was read and countered.
With more time... A year or two to refine his Nen to higher levels, this fight would be dramatically different...
But... isn't that why he came to Heaven's Arena?
"You've read my record, right? You know that I've killed some nameless weaklings in this ring... Would you like to join that list?" The dreadlocked man's grin widened, his tone darkening, "Hahahaha... I'm just kidding!"
"I'm feeling generous today, not really in a killing mood..."
He looked at Oboro like meat on a butcher's block.
Victory seemed assured.
"Do you want to surrender?"
Aisemilu spread his hands, savoring the moment.
"Even if I don't kill you, another hit means defeat by points... What if I don't hold back this time..."
"Hm."
Before Aisemilu could finish, Oboro suddenly laughed and sighed.
"You're a transmuter, right? With your 'speed-shifting' ability..."
"Oh?" Aisemilu's eyes narrowed.
"Care to guess my type?" Oboro smiled and raised his still functioning right hand.
"You're not an Enhancer?" The dreadlocked fighter asked.
Even though Oboro hadn't landed any clean hits, his attacks had still caused damage.
Meeting the question, Oboro slowly lifted his head, his eyes gleaming dangerously, "I hope next time... we can have even more fun..."
His voice fell low.
"Game start."