Once I realized I had about four years before things really started picking up (6 year old Killua took two years to reach floor 200, and the plot began around when they were 12), I wanted to speed through it. We made quick work of every floor up until 180–190. We weren't using Nen yet and were both more comfortable with weapons than bare hands, so these fights helped us grow more proficient in hand-to-hand combat.
We had reached a point where we no longer relied on brute force and had started getting more technical and creative. We targeted weak points and capitalized on mistakes to disable or damage opponents while leaving them standing—earning most of our wins by T.K.O.
Luckily, we didn't run into Killua, as the refs tended to bump us up faster than they should have—probably because of how we toyed with our opponents. So it only took us three days of fighting during the day and sweet cuddling at night to make it to the top.
As we arrived at the 200th floor, the atmosphere changed. The air felt heavier—familiar. The presence of Nen-users everywhere made it feel like home. The moment we stepped off the elevator, we were given a rundown of the 200th-floor rules and were immediately challenged by some guys eager to test the "fresh meat." We scheduled the fight for the next day and spent the rest of the evening exploring and having dinner.
The next day, we were placed in the prep room 30 minutes before the match. While we waited, Artoria asked why we were even bothering to fight these weaklings.
"The weak tend to use tricks we're not used to. It's free practice against slippery opponents," I replied.
It wasn't a solid reason—but good enough to convince her (truthfully, I just wanted to see how it played out). Soon after, she was called up. She walked into the arena, lit by the spotlight, while I stayed back in the hallway, watching.
As Artoria and her opponent entered the ring, the ref got into his groove:
"WELCOME TO THE 200TH FLOOR OF THE HEEEEEAAAAVEN'S ARENA!Today, we have the new prospect—the knightess, ARTORIA!And on the other side, the seasoned veteran, the tricky... BENTLY!This is his sixth fight this year, with only one loss. It looks like he's aiming for a clean climb to the top!"
Bently was a man in his 50s wearing casual clothes, with a rope coiled around his neck. He eyed Artoria with a lecherous look, clearly underestimating her due to her youthful appearance.
"We all know the rules, so let's not waste any more time—LET'S BEGIN!"
As the ref dropped his arm, the rope uncoiled and shot toward her leg. She sidestepped, but the rope made a perfect 90-degree turn and wrapped around her foot. Bently grinned, clearly thinking the fight was over.
"Now that it's touching you, it'll sap your Nen until you wither away," he said smugly.
He wasn't the type to win by T.K.O.—he relied on cheap K.O.s. But after a few moments, nothing happened. Artoria stood still, letting it try. It only drained the surface layer of Nen, which she easily replenished.
"I was hoping you'd at least put a dent in it. Seems I'm too much for you."
She reached for her waist like she was drawing a sword. Her aura flared up like a bonfire. The rope burst from the sheer intensity, popping like firecrackers along its length. Bently jumped back, stunned to see his trusty weapon destroyed.
Then she used a Nen burst (yeah, super original, I know), launching herself at blinding speed toward Bently. He managed to block the first strike using Ryu, but not the quick follow-up slash that severed his arm. He screamed, collapsed, and began to pass out while sobbing.
Artoria watched in disgust, waiting for the ref to call the match. He quickly awarded her the win by K.O. and had Bently sent to the infirmary.
As she returned to me, she waited for my reaction. I stepped close and whispered,
"That was an incredible show of superiority."
I gently cupped her cheek in my hand. She looked stunned for a moment before leaning into it, her hand covering mine. A healthy blush colored her face, and her eyes turned soft and dazed. I traced her lips with my thumb, and for a few long seconds, we were frozen in the moment. Eventually, I coughed to break the tension.
We looked at each other and awkwardly pulled apart, trying not to make things weirder than they already were.
Then I was called up. Artoria wished me luck—not that I likely needed it. I thanked her and walked into the limelight.
Even before I reached the arena, the ref began speaking.
"Now, ladies and gentlemen, I know that last fight ended quickly—But today's your lucky day! As a special occasion, we're starting the second fight RIGHT NOW!"
The crowd erupted. At least their money hadn't gone to waste. I wasn't thrilled about being treated like a bonus act instead of the main event, but it was a petty thought and I didn't dwell on it.
As I stepped into the ring, the ref grinned and said something pretty embarrassing.
"On the right, we have another newcomer! A man of talent and great achievement—the knightess's lover, LEON!"
The crowd went wild at my expense. I glanced at the grinning ref with a smirk. It was the truth, so there was no reason to protest.
"And on the left—we have the mean, not-so-lean MONTY! Two wins so far—maybe he gets a three-piece today!"
Monty looked about 30, bald, round, and heavy-set. No pride in his eyes—just a serious, blank stare. As soon as the ref gave the signal, he brought his hand up, then slammed it down to start the match.
Monty channeled his aura into his hands, forming claw-like constructs, and dug into the ground.
"Monty starts with his classic move—DUNE CRAWLER! How will Leon handle an enemy he can't see?"
The analysts in the booth were spouting nonsense, trying to hype a fight that hadn't even begun. I stood still, waiting for him to make a move—but nothing happened. I could sense where he was from the Nen he used to dig around, but I had no accurate way to hit him.
Eventually, I asked the judge:
"What happens if we're in a stalemate too long?"
He shrugged—apparently stalemates weren't a thing here.
So, I took the easy route.
"Room."
A blue sphere formed in my hand and expanded outward. The moment Monty entered its radius, I teleported him in front of me and landed ten clean punches—enough for a textbook T.K.O.
The fight had minutes of buildup, only to end in seconds. The crowd wasn't thrilled, but that wasn't my concern. With our matches done, we went out again for a day of relaxation.
And waited.
We never got another fight.We made too strong of an impression. :(
So...We went home.