Chapter 25: Martial Clash and Contemplation

Sixteen matches were taking place simultaneously across the arena. Some bouts were fiercely contested, while others were decided in an instant. Moro kept his eyes fixed on the action at one of the rings. The two combatants appeared to be martial artists well-versed in specific disciplines, their styles revealed through the calculated rhythm of their strikes and defensive maneuvers.

After observing for a while, Moro deduced that one favored leg techniques while the other relied on punches. Yet, after a dozen exchanges, the kicker had gradually gained the upper hand.

"Impressive."

He had started out merely curious, but as the match progressed, he found himself genuinely stirred. The strikes from both fighters were powerful and resolute, carrying an intensity that suggested every move was intended to be fatal. Moreover, their attacks possessed a precision capable of exploiting the slightest opening. This was clearly the result of long, arduous training, not something achieved overnight.

If these two were also proficient in "Nen"... what would this fight look like?

As Moro pondered this, the situation on the ring suddenly shifted. The kicker, previously in control, was caught off guard when the puncher, driven by ruthless resolve, absorbed a heavy whip kick just to secure the opening needed to land a direct, crushing blow to his opponent’s chest. That single strike turned the tide, sending the opponent crashing to the floor.

Moro’s pupils contracted at the sight. He noticed the aura dissipating from the fallen fighter’s head.

At that same moment, the referee recognized the severity of the situation. After checking the fallen contestant's breathing, he immediately summoned the medical team standing by at the ringside. The winner, meanwhile, merely glanced at his fallen opponent before turning away, his expression cold and indifferent, as if the matter had nothing to do with him.

This was the cruel side of the glory and applause. Every contestant who chose to step onto the Heavens Arena ring had to be mentally prepared for the possibility of death. In this regard, it was not unlike the Hunter Exam. The Hunter Association, which administered the exam, maintained a relatively detached attitude toward the loss of life during the trials. The applicants were also well aware of the dangers that lay ahead.

Heavens Arena was no different. Contestants were required not only to be mentally prepared but also to sign death-waiver agreements. The fights on the ring were by no means mere exhibitions for entertainment. If one encountered a savage opponent, it was simply a matter of bad luck.

However, fatalities during the preliminary rounds were rare, largely because the use of weapons was strictly prohibited until one reached the two-hundredth floor.

The time limit for a preliminary match was three minutes. If no winner was decided within that window, the referee would judge the outcome based on the performance of both fighters. Thus, in most cases, the combatants traded blows cautiously without resorting to a fight to the death.

It was rare to see two practitioners of lethal martial arts matched against each other like this. It was even rarer that their skill levels were so evenly matched, forcing one of them—driven by a wealth of combat experience—to decisively seize that fleeting opportunity. Perhaps the puncher had anticipated the possibility of killing his opponent when he launched his attack, but he hadn't hesitated for a second.

This was a pure martial artist. Not just in a fighting paradise like Heavens Arena, but anywhere else—once true martial artists engaged in a formal duel, it was almost always a matter of life and death.

"I could defeat him easily," Moro mused, his gaze following the winner as he stepped off the ring. "But if he had awakened his Nen..."

Watching the man disappear into the tunnel, Moro let out a heavy sigh. "I wouldn't stand a chance."

After a brief silence, Moro leaned back in his chair, his brow furrowed.

Taijutsu—he had never truly engaged with it, neither before nor after learning Nen. Yet, there was no doubt that it was a vital component of combat involving Nen. And yet, someone without any real foundation in it could, if they awakened Nen, effortlessly face a martial artist who had spent years honing their craft.

If one had to prioritize... which was more important: Nen or martial arts technique?

Moro thought of the fight between Killua and Zushi in the original story. At the time, Killua hadn't yet learned Nen, but he was able to exert one-sided dominance through his footwork and technique. However, it was hard to say how that would have played out if Zushi had mastered his Nen. Then, he thought of Biscuit. A master of the Shingen-ryu school with decades of experience, she didn't need a combat-oriented Nen ability to possess terrifying strength—her technique alone was enough.

So, what was the answer? Moro felt a moment of confusion.

His thoughts then drifted to Feitan’s elusive, high-speed assault. Moro found Feitan’s speed more troublesome than his "Pain Packer" ability. Could one truly rely solely on Nen proficiency to counter that kind of rapid-fire combat?

It was a headache. Moro raised a hand to massage his temple.

Without the Phantom Troupe, he wouldn't need to obsess over these things, nor would he have to bear the pressure of time. The future he had envisioned—using basic Nen as a safety net while earning a fortune in the antique business, living a life of wealth without the constant threat of death—it was such a pleasant prospect.

But the Phantom Troupe had ruined it all.

"Calling contestant 2688 and 2792 to Ring C. Contestant 2688 and 2792, please report to Ring C..."

The announcement over the arena’s PA system interrupted his thoughts. 2792 was his number.

Moro pulled himself together and rose to head toward the ring. Upon arriving at Ring C, he saw contestant 2688: a woman wearing a tight-fitting suit with a long ponytail. She spotted Moro and frowned slightly, seemingly deeming him too young.

"Both contestants, please step onto the ring," the referee signaled.

Moro and the woman with the ponytail ascended.

"Matches on the first floor focus on combat performance. Please do your best to show your strength within the three-minute time limit," the referee explained the rules as usual. "Now, begin!"

The woman moved instantly, her feet light as she darted around to get behind Moro.

"Sorry, kid..."

She brought her palm down, aiming for the back of Moro’s neck. This moment was witnessed by several other contestants in the stands—those who had been keeping an eye on Moro. Their reactions were varied as they watched him remain completely unresponsive to the attack.

*Thud.*

A dull sound echoed across Ring C, followed by the woman gasping in pain, clutching her hand.

What was happening?

Those watching looked on in astonishment. They saw the boy, who appeared no older than sixteen, not only completely unmoved but even wearing an expression of... deep thought?