Night is the perfect time to unleash one's wild instincts.
During the day, Ronnel, Zushi, and Wing met up with Gon and Killua, who had already encountered Kite and came to cheer them on. Shizuku and Bisky also returned from shopping in a city they were unfamiliar with. After exchanging greetings, Ronnel and Zushi made their way to the waiting room in the evening, spurred on by their friends' encouragement.
Once Ronnel and Zushi had left, Gon and the others followed the crowd into the arena, taking their seats in the auditorium.
Flipping through magazines that had been placed on their seats beforehand, they recorded information about the competitors while commenting on them.
"By the way, where's Leorio?" Gon suddenly asked. "Didn't he say over the phone that Wing-san entrusted him to be Zushi's medical trainer? He also said he'd arrive at '250'."
"Who knows? Maybe he's late again. I wonder if Kurapika will come too."
"Probably not. He hasn't called us. Besides, he's with the Nostrade Family. Would it even be convenient for him to show up at an event like this?"
Well, that might be true. But Heavens Arena doesn't care who you are—as long as you can pay enough, there's always a place for you in the VIP section.
So, not only did Kurapika come, but he was sitting in the VIP area with his employer and had just dealt with a certain leader of the Hunter Association.
Shortly after, he was summoned to a private room by some eccentric individual.
...
Meanwhile, in a dark and run-down alley.
"Damn it, we're running late. The airship actually got delayed~"
Leorio, dressed in his signature suit and small round glasses, hurried through a shortcut, frequently checking his watch with a mix of frustration and anticipation.
"It's been ages! Ronnel and Zushi are competing this time, right? Gon will be there too—I can't wait to show them my progress. Though, sorry, Zushi, money comes first! Ronnel, don't let me down—I bet most of my savings on you... Ah!"
Imagining the fortune he'd make if things went his way, Leorio had a satisfied grin on his face. So much so that he failed to watch his step—
—and tripped over a loose manhole cover.
"Seriously?! Who the hell leaves a manhole cover out of place like this? What if someone with bad eyesight falls in?"
Grumbling, Leorio rubbed his forehead and got to his feet. Despite his complaints, he carefully repositioned the cover.
"There, that's better... huh?"
As he clapped his hands and turned to leave, a sudden chill ran down his spine.
He slowly turned toward the dark alley behind him, where several cloaked figures emerged from the shadows.
"Who... are they?"
Leorio frowned at the strange individuals but quickly decided that whatever they were up to, it was none of his business. Generally, meddling in things like this never ended well. Lowering his head, he attempted to walk away—
A violent gust of wind rushed past his head.
"Shit!"
His pupils shrank in alarm. He tried to move, but his body refused to respond.
A crushing aura of malicious intent paralyzed him completely.
"Bang!"
A towering man in a cloak delivered a precise strike to the back of Leorio's neck, causing his body to go limp as he collapsed to the ground.
"Caw! Caw!"
The sudden commotion startled the crows perched on the rooftops. They flapped their wings and scattered into the night, their cries echoing through the desolate alley.
"What should we do with him?" one of the cloaked men asked, addressing their leader.
"No need to kill him."
The leader barely spared Leorio a glance before looking away.
"Yeah, just look at his dumb face—there's no way he's a Hunter."
The large man sneered, mockingly kicking the manhole cover aside before unceremoniously tossing Leorio into the sewer.
Then, the group silently advanced toward their destination—the brightly lit Heavens Arena.
All that remained was a lone manhole cover and an unconscious, unlucky Hunter in the sewer below.
...
Heavens Arena – Contestant Conference Room
The room was filled with competitors, each more bizarre-looking than the last, performing their unique warm-up routines.
"Why aren't we starting yet? My hands are itching~" one competitor whined, their body twitching unnaturally, as though suffering from a failed plastic surgery experiment.
They claimed their hands itched, but their entire body swayed erratically instead.
"Be patient. Two idiots withdrew at the last minute, so they had to tweak the bracket," said a lanky fighter in green, his long arms reminiscent of a gibbon. "Originally, there were supposed to be 32 contestants, but now there are 30. I heard two spots are being left open, allowing some fighters to advance automatically."
The plastic-surgery-gone-wrong competitor followed his gaze to a particular corner of the room.
"Is it because of him?"
"Rumor has it those two withdrew because they were terrified of that guy's strength," the gibbon-like man muttered. "Not sure if it's true, though."
"Whether it's true or not, have you seen the recordings from last year's tournament? That guy..."
The gibbon-like man waved his hand dismissively, but his expression darkened. A flicker of fear crossed his eyes.
"Ah, the 'Mystery Guest'... 'Cutthroat'... Those past champions vanished after winning, never showcasing their skills again. All we know is that he's a disciple of Shingen-ryu. Beyond that, he's a complete enigma."
The plastic-surgery competitor stilled, no longer swaying.
Not just them—most of the contestants had now turned their attention toward that same corner.
Feeling the weight of the stares directed at him, Zushi shifted uncomfortably.
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