This was the strange reality of the 200th floor and above. From this level onward, every fighter was a Nen user. To ordinary people, many of these battles seemed incomprehensible, almost supernatural. They couldn't perceive Nen or understand its mechanics, so to them, watching a match often felt like witnessing magic. And yet, that mystery was precisely what made these fights so thrilling.
The Sky Arena knew this well. That was why they always assigned commentators who could "translate" what was happening for the audience, describing Nen abilities as "techniques," "martial arts moves," or even "magic" to keep the spectacle entertaining.
Only a handful of Nen users in the audience truly understood what was happening in the ring.
"Is this a Nen ability that transforms the battlefield into an ocean and allows the user to materialize into a shark?"
"It must be a combination of the Materialization and Manipulation categories."
"It also seems to enhance speed and conceal the user's presence."
Among the spectators, a petite, doll-like girl sat quietly, her eyes fixed on the fight, deep in thought. She wore a frilly princess dress, her golden hair styled into two small ponytails. A burgundy cloak draped over her shoulders, matching the color of her striking eyes. But beneath her delicate, youthful appearance lay a surprising truth—this "little girl" was actually a muscular woman in her fifties.
Biscuit Krueger, a master of the Shingen-ryu school and a veteran Nen user from the Hunter Association, had concealed her true form behind her childlike disguise. As a seasoned expert with years of experience, Biscuit had a deep understanding of Nen and its applications. She was the one who had once trained Gon and Killua, and today, she was here because of Larry. It only took her a moment to analyze the core of Shaq's ability.
The shark-like fighter had merged with his self-created "ocean," completely suppressing his presence. Against an opponent of equal skill, his strategy would have been devastating. His enemies would struggle to pinpoint his location, leaving them vulnerable to a sudden, lethal bite. However, neither Larry nor Biscuit were on the same level as Shaq. To them, his "stealth" was nothing more than a parlor trick.
Unaware of this, Shaq swam beneath the surface, convinced that he was completely undetectable. He grinned to himself, enjoying the illusion of dominance. "Haha! Before I finish you off, I'll have some fun first!" he sneered.
Moving effortlessly through his self-made ocean, Shaq flicked his tail, sending out ripples of Aura. Suddenly, vortexes swirled into existence across the ring! This was his signature technique—Multiple Whirlpool Traps. The powerful currents pulled at everything in their vicinity, designed to drag opponents into their depths and disorient them.
Yet, Larry remained completely still, not even blinking. Watching from the stands, Biscuit frowned. "What a terrible move," she muttered, deducting points in her mind.
Biscuit had a habit of mentally grading fights, using a passing score as a baseline. She would add or subtract points depending on a fighter's strengths and weaknesses. Shaq's ability had its advantages—his ability to remain undetected and his combat boost within his "ocean" were noteworthy. But his decision-making was terrible.
If he had the ability to materialize into a shark, why wasn't he going for a one-hit kill?
Maintaining the entire "ocean" was bound to drain a huge amount of aura. And from what Biscuit could sense, Shaq didn't have an endless reserve of it.
The best strategy for someone like him would be to set the stage, lurk below, and strike with lethal precision. Instead, he was wasting his aura on unnecessary vortexes. Biscuit could already guess the reason. First, Sky Arena's floor masters weren't exactly the top tier of Nen users. Truly strong fighters rarely stuck around. And Shaq? He wasn't even a high-ranked floor master.
Second, his attitude toward Larry was completely dismissive. From the start, he had never taken him seriously. That arrogance made him reckless. Instead of focusing on ending the fight efficiently, he was playing games, squandering his aura. He was about to regret it.
Shaq finally noticed something was wrong. His whirlpools had formed—but Larry hadn't moved an inch. A flash of unease crossed Shaq's face. He didn't want to admit it, but something felt off. He suddenly decided to stop playing around. His instincts screamed at him—this needed to end now!
With a determined expression, Shaq propelled himself toward Larry, his muscles coiling like a predator closing in on its prey. His mind was already picturing Larry being torn in half. "Die!" he roared. A powerful blue aura erupted around him, wrapping his body like armor as he lunged upward in a devastating attack.
The audience held their breath. Biscuit, however, kept her eyes fixed on Larry. She was curious—how would he respond?
Larry, standing perfectly still, remained as indifferent as ever. To the untrained eye, he looked paralyzed with fear. But the truth was, he was simply thinking. Honestly, this guy wasn't even worth using his strongest Pokémon on. B-rank experience points were too low to benefit Tyranitar or Dragonite, both of whom were S-rank. And if he went too far and destroyed the arena, all the strong opponents would scatter.
As Shaq closed in, his massive jaws just inches away from tearing into Larry, his previous doubts vanished. That nagging sense of unease? Just paranoia. He was about to win. The blue aura surrounding his body intensified, pulsing like waves in the ocean, his eyes glowing with a predatory red light. He could already taste victory. All he had to do was bite down and— "Huh?" Shaq's triumphant expression twisted into one of shock. His entire body had suddenly stopped. No—he hadn't stopped voluntarily. Something was holding him in place.
Thick, pink aura swirled around him, constricting him in an invisible grip. He struggled, but no matter how much force he exerted, he couldn't move an inch. "What... what the hell is this?!?"
From the stands, Biscuit's wine-red eyes widened slightly in surprise. Then, in an instant— Shaq's body stretched unnaturally. His shark form was pulled taut, limbs elongating grotesquely. His face twisted in terror as he realized what was happening, but before he could even scream— His entire body was ripped in half. The arena was silent for a split second. "AHHHHHHHHH!!!" A bloodcurdling scream echoed from the battlefield. A second later, the ring exploded. Shards of debris and clouds of dust erupted into the air. But what horrified the audience most wasn't the destruction of the arena. It was the mangled remains of Shaq, torn clean in two.
For a moment, no one could process what had just happened. Then, panic spread like wildfire. Some people screamed. Others covered their mouths in shock. A few women turned pale and started vomiting at the sight of Shaq's brutal death. Many gamblers slumped into their seats, their faces drained of all color as if their very souls had left their bodies. They had bet everything on Shaq—some had even wagered their entire fortunes. And now? They had lost everything in the blink of an eye.
Only a select few, the ones who had bet on Larry, were celebrating. Laughter broke out from small pockets of the audience, mingling with cries of despair. A purple-haired girl at the counter was practically swimming in cash, grinning as she counted her winnings.