Kisho arrived at the fortieth floor and began his push toward the fiftieth.
The number of people on this floor was already visibly much smaller.
He walked to the service counter, gave his number to the staff, and received a new number. Along with it came an envelope.
Inside the envelope were coins totaling 152 Jenny. Kisho took the money and immediately exchanged it at a vending machine for a can of soda, then sat down in the waiting area.
"Ah, cola really is a wonderful thing."
The carbonated drink instantly lifted Kisho's depressed mood quite a bit, and he regained a little energy.
Come to think of it, this was the first time in both of his lifetimes that he had bought a drink with his own money.
After finishing the drink, he flicked the empty can into a perfect parabola and accurately tossed it into the trash can, then sat there resting his chin on his hand, staring blankly.
Suddenly, waves of cheers and exclamations rose from all around.
Kisho abruptly looked up and saw that the closed-circuit television hanging above was broadcasting a ring match.
If it were an ordinary match, the fighters around him—who could almost all be called battle-hardened—wouldn't have been so surprised.
The special thing about this match was that not only was it a battle above the one-hundredth floor of Heaven's Arena, but also that one of the fighters was a child who looked to be under ten years old.
Even more shocking was that this pale, white-haired child had beaten the heavy-set opponent across from him into unconsciousness.
The child on the ring lowered his gaze and stared at the burly man lying before him, quietly waiting for the referee to finish the count.
Although the man was already unconscious on the ground, his condition looked terrible—his body covered in blood, one arm hanging limply, likely broken.
Yet not a trace of emotion could be seen on the child's face.
Fear from being injured, terror, anger… or the joy of victory.
None at all.
Kisho only needed one glance to realize that this child was the same one from a report that Shalnark had shown him not long ago.
He still remembered the headline: "Six-Year-Old Genius Breaks Through the Hundredth Floor of Heaven's Arena!"
At the time, Kisho had thought it was just one of those marketing accounts that make everything up from a single blurry image, posting a pixelated photo to grab attention.
He hadn't expected the report to actually be real!
Who on earth would let a six-year-old child fight on a ring where life and death didn't matter?!
The broadcast continued on the closed-circuit television.
"Three, two… one!"
After reading the final number, the referee looked at the child with a somewhat complicated expression.
He slowly announced,
"The winner is contestant Killua. Congratulations to Killua for advancing to the one hundred twentieth floor!"
As the referee finished speaking, the surrounding cheers roared like thunder.
But the child in the ring merely turned around indifferently, his hands in his pockets, and walked away through the fighter's passage, leaving the audience with a cold and distant back view.
"Killua…"
Kisho quietly repeated the name.
The eyes and expression of this boy named Killua were not something a child his age should have.
He was only six years old.
This should have been the age when he ran freely through mountains and fields with children his own age, laughing and playing.
While Kisho was thinking this, an announcement suddenly came over the broadcast.
"Contestant Kisho, please report to Ring C on the forty-eighth floor!"
...
On the ring, the referee addressed both the audience and the fighters.
"Since we have a newcomer, I will briefly explain the point system again."
"The first type is an excellent strike. A clean hit on your opponent earns one point."
"The second type is a hit that knocks the opponent down. That kind of attack earns two points."
"The third type is a knockdown, which also earns one point."
After finishing the explanation, the referee looked at Kisho, asking with his eyes whether he understood the rules.
Kisho nodded and looked toward his opponent for this match.
It was a buzz-cut young man in his twenties. When he looked at Kisho, he showed a very confident smile, as if victory was already certain.
Clearly, he thought Kisho was an easy win.
"Ready—"
The referee raised his hand high and swung it down.
"Begin!"
The buzz-cut man rushed forward, throwing a straightforward punch straight toward Kisho's face without any attempt to hide it.
Kisho sidestepped and dodged.
An attack at this speed wasn't even as fast as the bandaged man he had fought in his first match.
"Dodge! Dodge!"
The commentator shouted.
"Contestant Kisho is dodging with flowing grace! All of contestant Gor's attacks are missing! It seems contestant Kisho is waiting for an opportunity to find a weakness!"
No, I'm just thinking about how to fight without seriously injuring him.
While making that complaint internally, Kisho slightly lowered his head to avoid a flying kick, then blocked it with his elbow.
"Got you."
He showed a faint smile, grabbed the young man's pant leg, and with a swing of his arm threw him straight out of the ring.
The young man quickly adjusted his posture in midair. After landing on the ground, he bent down, jumped, and quickly returned to the ring.
But this time, the way he looked at Kisho was extremely hostile.
The young man glared furiously.
"Brat! Are you insulting me?!"
"If that's what you think, I don't have anything to say."
Feeling humiliated and vaguely mocked, the young man roared in anger and rushed forward again.
When Kisho saw that the referee said nothing about him throwing his opponent out of the ring, he immediately realized that in Heaven's Arena matches, throwing someone out of the ring had no effect on victory or defeat.
To win, he would still have to either knock his opponent down or accumulate points.
Bang!
The sound of fists colliding rang out.
Kisho didn't need to use much strength to block the attack.
After several matches, his body had become familiar with this style of combat.
Combined with the fact that he was far stronger than his opponent, he could adjust his movements much faster.
He stepped to the side, moving behind one of the young man's legs, and hooked it.
The young man immediately fell, crashing heavily onto the ground.
"Score!"
The commentator shouted.
"Contestant Kisho has gained the first point against contestant Gor during the exchange!"
The young man gritted his teeth, got back up, and charged toward Kisho again.
What followed was extremely boring.
It could practically be described as the nine different ways the buzz-cut young man fell to the ground.
The audience's blood pressure skyrocketed as they watched, and waves of boos erupted.
After reaching ten points, Kisho received the pass to the fiftieth floor and jumped down from the ring, completely ignoring the murderous glare from the young man behind him, who had only suffered minor injuries.
Perhaps he saw it as humiliation.
But that had nothing to do with Kisho.
His strength allowed him to choose the way he wanted to win.
Whether his opponent liked it or not had nothing to do with him.
Still, using strength greater than his opponent's just to avoid seriously injuring them…
For some reason, it felt a little ridiculous.
Kisho stepped into the elevator. Just as he was preparing to continue climbing the tower, he heard the elevator attendant explain with a smile.
"Congratulations to contestant Kisho for advancing to the fiftieth floor."
"However, starting from the fiftieth floor, there will no longer be leap-style promotions. A victory will only advance you ten floors."
"At the same time, losing a match will also cause you to drop ten floors."
The elevator attendant patiently added,
"In addition, once a contestant reaches the fiftieth floor, they can only participate in two battles per day."
Kisho frowned slightly, feeling somewhat disappointed.
He had originally thought he could rush straight up to the hundredth floor in one go.
After stepping out of the elevator, Kisho handed the paper ticket to the counter window and sat down on a chair, waiting for his next unknown opponent.
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