HxH: I Will Be Supreme

The arena fell silent as the scene unfolded under the harsh lights of Heaven's Arena. Oboro, his body battered and bleeding, had his fingers wrapped around Zalon's throat. The soldier, a mountain of a man even larger than Oboro himself, managed to force a single word out of his constricted windpipe.

"Sharp..."

Blood spurted from Zalon's mouth as Oboro tightened his grip. The Nen users in the audience watched in horror and disbelief, their reactions a stark contrast to the ordinary spectators who roared with bloodthirsty enthusiasm, faces flushed and veins bulging in their necks.

The impossible was happening before their eyes. They might have accepted Oboro's victory over Aisimilu, but Zalon? The mercenary had been undefeated since reaching the 200th floor, demonstrating a level of strength that had earned him a fearsome reputation. As an Enhancement-type Nen user, his raw offensive power and lethality far surpassed Aisimilu's.

More than that, Zalon's background set him apart. He had served as a royal guard in a war-torn nation, spending years on active battlefields. That experience had forged him into something more than an ordinary fighter, his fighting instincts and mental strength tempered by real warfare.

Oboro's left hand was a mangled mess, all five fingers twisted and broken by one of Zalon's devastating blows during their earlier exchange. Blood covered his body, painting a gruesome picture, but through careful calculation and a perfectly timed "sneak attack," he was the one left standing.

Through the mask of blood that covered his face, Oboro's eyes gleamed as he addressed his opponent. "Although you cannot speak, you can still signal your surrender to the referee."

Fresh blood trickled from the corners of Zalon's mouth, but his eyes remained calm and collected even in the face of death. His message as a soldier was clear, surrender was not in his nature. Every battle was fought with an acceptance of death.

"Thank you," Oboro said quietly, understanding the warrior's resolve.

With a sharp thrust and a sickening crack, he snapped Zalon's neck. Oboro held his grip, knowing that anything less than death meant risk; if Zalon could still move, he would fight to his last breath. There would be no second chance to exploit an opening if he let go too soon.

Killing was an act of respect for a true warrior.

As Zalon's body went limp, Oboro finally succumbed to exhaustion. He collapsed on the stage, his chest heaving as both physical and mental fatigue washed over him.

"The winner is Oboro!" the announcer's voice boomed through the arena after a moment's pause.

The roar of the crowd became deafening. Oboro stared up at the spotlights, letting the cheers wash over him as an empty feeling crept behind his initial elation. His mind drifted to Moritonio's warning: "You can enjoy fighting... But don't become like Hisoka and get sick..."

A smile crossed his face as he recognized the subtle changes in his heart. His love for fighting came from what he learned from facing powerful opponents. Like a gamer facing a high-level player in a solo match, even losses could be valuable and victories all the sweeter.

It was about growth, not just bloodlust.

Offstage, Wing watched Bisky with confusion. His improved vision now allowed him to see the nuances of the fight more clearly as he replayed the brief but brutal ten-minute bout in his mind. The difference in physical ability and temperament between Oboro and Zalon had been evident in how quickly Zalon's simple blows had damaged Oboro's limbs. As an enhancement, Zalon's attacks had more raw efficiency than Aisimilu's.

Yet Zalon had still lost, even though both fighters had used their Nen abilities. The key difference was how Oboro's ability had changed from the previous match, no longer relying on summoned soldiers.

Bisky caught her student's questioning look, but her earlier surprise had faded. She was getting used to Oboro's unconventional methods.

"Two factors led to his victory. First, his mind," Biscuit explained. "That brat knew he couldn't compete with raw power... He couldn't let the fight drag on because time favored his opponent..."

"He anticipated Zalon's first attack, knowing that his weaknesses had been exposed in the last match. The opponent wouldn't give him time to adjust, he probably spent days mentally simulating their fight, putting himself in Zalon's position to plan countermeasures. In those first few minutes, he devoted almost all of his aura to defense, leaving no escape route. Clear evidence of his growth..."

"He is cunning... That is why I prevented your fight."

Biscuit remembered their first meeting, when Oboro had seen through her disguise.

This was no ordinary opponent.

On the stage, Oboro stood and left bloody footprints.

"Second factor: his skill."

"His previous performance left an impression, but that was clearly an aspect of his Hatsu. He was holding something back! Zalon was misled..."

"His ability is complicated, a basic aura defense couldn't block an Enhancement Master, yet he held out. When Zalon attacked full force, a golden barrier appeared, negating significant damage. He gained some form of enhancement, and at the crucial moment, inflicted a debilitating effect on Zalon, taking control."

"Combat isn't just about aura, physical strength, or technique. It is about strategy and information advantage. He demonstrated exactly why I brought you to Heaven's Arena. Watch him closely, there's much to learn."

"In Nen combat, there is no such thing as unfair tactics. A defeat means that your opponent was superior."

After instructing Wing, Biscuit fell into deep contemplation.

She analyzed Oboro's Hatsu...

...

That night, Oboro, heavily bandaged, stood in front of the window of his hotel room and looked at the neon sky.

If Aisemilu had taught him the rhythm of combat, Zalon had demonstrated superior physical strength and fortitude.

It was his first encounter with someone who surpassed those attributes since arriving at the Heaven's Arena, except for Biscuit, of course.

The rune skills from his Hatsu provided options against Zalon. These skills allowed him to preset talents and summoner abilities as a player.

He chose defensive talents: Resolve, including Grasp of the Undying and Bone Plating, which increased his durability... For summoner skills: Barrier and Weakness.

Zalon's abilities remained unknown.

This gave Oboro an advantage.

"This world fascinates me... Beyond the known characters, there are so many remarkable people."

Oboro smiled and examined his bandaged left hand. "Although this means no immediate rematches, cowards will not challenge me again."

"Ninety days between mandatory matches is too long. Some will forfeit rather than face me."

"So... I must lose occasionally."

"Next time, I'll just rely on the basics, and then I'll forfeit as soon as safety is assured."

"Unless a true expert appears who is worth testing against."

"They serve well as training partners to improve Nen..."

Oboro mused quietly.

In the following days, he attended the fights as a spectator.

Observing from the outside often provided a clearer analysis of the fight, opportunities to learn new techniques.

Time to study how others dealt with various Nen users.

...

One day before a match, Oboro found an empty seat.

Next to Biscuit and Wing.

He greeted the veteran hunter cheerfully.

"Hello, I'm Wing." Wing kept his gentle demeanor and offered a handshake.

"I know you," Oboro nodded slightly.

"Tch." Biscuit, seeing him approach, smacked her head disapprovingly and turned away, ignoring him.

"Master..." Wing embarrassedly tried to smooth things over.

Oboro smiled silently.

Normally, others would avoid him, but here, someone actively disliked him.

"I'm looking forward to seeing my fan again... Or should I say girlfriend? Even though you're older, I don't mind..."

"You insufferable brat! How dare you speak so shamelessly to such a sweet, beautiful girl?"

Biscuit whirled around to face him, her eyes blazing.

"Master..." Wing felt the tension, unsure of how to react.

"Oh? Did I misremember? Someone came to my room late at night and professed her love..."

Oboro continued.

Biscuit's fists clenched, her aura began to leak.

Oboro's lips curved upwards. "Never mind, the fight is starting. Let's watch!"

He smoothly changed the subject after poking her.

Biscuit swallowed her anger.

Wing wiped his brow in relief as the tension eased.

He glanced at Oboro sideways, his first close observation of the man, then at his angry master.

He knew Biscuit well...

She often teased others, but this was the first time someone managed to provoke her.

"Quite remarkable," Wing thought, adjusting his glasses as they caught the light.