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Five days of forced bed rest in a Floor Master suite felt less like recovery and more like being held hostage somewhere expensive.
The room was large enough to make most hotel suites look cramped, with polished marble floors, floor-to-ceiling windows and furniture Yuzuki suspected could fund a small village. Beyond the glass, the city surrounding Heaven's Arena stretched toward the horizon beneath the afternoon sun. Yuzuki lay across the couch with his white hair in complete disorder, an empty lollipop stick hanging from the corner of his mouth and both arms wrapped in fresh bandages.
His entire body hurt. It was not the sharp pain of a clean wound, but a deep ache that seemed to sit inside his muscles, bones and aura pathways at the same time. Even moving his fingers sent a dull throb up his arm.
Five seconds. That was currently the longest he could maintain Infinity before the technique shut down and forced him through a fifteen-second cooldown. Five seconds of near-absolute protection, followed by fifteen seconds in which one mistake could get him killed. Red was even worse. Every use forced his own body to endure part of the repulsive force, tearing muscles and straining aura pathways that had never been built to handle that kind of power.
No matter how extraordinary his Six Eyes were, the body carrying them was still only thirteen years old.
Yuzuki slowly raised his bandaged right hand and studied the faint movement of aura beneath his skin. Before he could circulate even the smallest amount, Bisky's sweet voice drifted from the kitchenette.
"If you put any aura into that wrist, I'm breaking the other one so they match."
Yuzuki lowered his hand with a tired sigh. "I was only checking the flow. Gentle circulation should help the recovery process."
"You have checked it twelve times today," Wing said from the dining table, where he sat beside a large stack of tournament reports. He adjusted his glasses and gave Yuzuki a calm but firm look. "Your aura pathways are already damaged. Forcing them before they heal could leave permanent scars and reduce how much aura you can safely release in the future."
"I'm thirteen," Yuzuki replied, turning his head toward the window. "By sixteen, I intend to be retired on a private island where nobody lectures me about responsible Nen usage."
"You will not reach fourteen if you keep treating your body as though it can be replaced," Kastro said from the doorway leading into the private training room. Fresh bandages covered his neck and forearms, but his posture remained straight and disciplined. He had also placed himself directly between Yuzuki and the training equipment.
Yuzuki stared at him for several seconds before muttering, "Traitor. I helped rebuild your entire fighting style, and this is how you repay me?"
"You taught me to stop wasting my potential through reckless decisions," Kastro answered without changing his expression. "I am applying the lesson."
Bisky returned carrying a large mug of steaming herbal tea. The smell reached Yuzuki before she did, reminding him of wet grass, bitter roots and something that had probably died in a swamp. She placed it heavily on the table beside him and ordered him to drink.
Yuzuki looked down at the dark liquid. "Are you certain this is medicine?"
"It will become medicine once you stop complaining and swallow it."
Bisky planted her hands on her hips. Despite her small appearance, the pressure hidden beneath her aura warned Yuzuki that refusing would be a poor decision. He took the mug and drank, immediately regretting it. The tea tasted worse than it smelled, but warmth spread through his chest and eased some of the pain around his ribs.
"You surprised people in the earlier rounds because they did not understand your abilities," Bisky said as he forced down another mouthful. "That advantage is disappearing. The eight fighters left in Battle Olympia are experienced, dangerous and capable of killing you the moment you become careless."
"I'm a Floor Master," Yuzuki reminded her with a weak grin. "That makes me a professionally recognised child making dangerous decisions."
"It makes you an injured brat with expensive furniture. Drink."
Yuzuki obeyed. As much as he hated admitting it, she was right. His Six Eyes could reveal attacks faster than almost anyone alive, but they could not make his injured body respond in time. They could not repair torn muscles or restore lost aura. He had not yet learned Reverse Cursed Technique. When his body broke, he still had to recover through medicine, rest and time.
Wing picked up the remote and turned toward the enormous screen mounted on the wall. "The announcement is beginning."
The screen flickered to life, filling the dim suite with gold and crimson light. Thousands of spectators packed the main arena below, and although the soundproof windows blocked most of their shouting, the combined roar created a low vibration through the floor.
The head commentator stood beneath several bright spotlights with a microphone held close to his mouth. "Ladies and gentlemen, the Round of Sixteen is officially over! Sixty-four elite martial artists, Floor Masters and Nen practitioners entered this year's Battle Olympia. Now, only eight remain beneath the golden crown of Heaven's Arena!"
The crowd erupted as the screen divided into eight panels. Viktor Richter stood with his arms resting loosely at his sides, his broad body completely still. Orion Drake watched recordings of the other competitors while making notes. Cassandra Vale sat calmly as a medic wrapped her bruised hands, while Lucien Cain stood alone without showing the slightest emotion. Mira Sol smiled and waved toward the camera as though she were attending a celebration rather than a tournament where people regularly left on stretchers.
Chrollo sat in a dark armchair with a book open in his hands. Hisoka shuffled a deck of cards with one hand, while Yuzuki's own panel displayed footage of his uncovered Six Eyes and the distortion created by Infinity.
A glowing tournament bracket appeared behind the commentator.
MATCH ONE: VIKTOR RICHTER VS. KAGETSU YUZUKI
MATCH TWO: CHROLLO LUCILFER VS. ORION DRAKE
MATCH THREE: HISOKA MORROW VS. CASSANDRA VALE
MATCH FOUR: LUCIEN CAIN VS. MIRA SOL
The arena erupted again as the commentator introduced the first match. "The Iron Tyrant, Viktor Richter, faces the youngest Floor Master in Heaven's Arena history! Richter has not taken a clean hit in three years, while Yuzuki's mysterious spatial ability has shocked the world. However, reports of the young prodigy's injuries have pushed the opening odds heavily toward the veteran!"
Yuzuki watched without reacting as Wing opened Viktor's tournament records on a tablet. The broadcast moved on to Chrollo and Orion, describing Orion's Hunter's Archive, an ability that allowed him to reproduce the structure of techniques he had witnessed at reduced efficiency.
"The commentators are treating Orion as though he simply copies attacks," Wing said. "That would be a mistake."
"He studies how techniques are put together," Yuzuki replied. "The conditions, the timing and the way the aura is shaped. Once he understands enough, he can build a weaker version for himself."
Kastro's attention remained fixed on Chrollo. "But Chrollo can choose which abilities Orion is allowed to witness."
"Exactly. Orion believes gathering information makes him stronger, but Chrollo controls the information."
The third match appeared on screen. Cassandra Vale's ability converted accumulated damage into increasing physical power, making her more dangerous the longer a fight continued. Hisoka did not appear interested in her. He leaned over the railing of his private viewing area, lazily passing a card between his fingers while staring toward the upper levels of Heaven's Arena.
More specifically, he was staring toward Yuzuki's suite.
"He is looking at you," Kastro said, his posture tightening.
"Let him look," Yuzuki murmured, although a cold sensation moved through his chest. He remembered the Hunter Exam. He remembered Hisoka's hand piercing his body and the moment everything had gone dark. Hisoka had killed him once, and returning to life had not made the memory any less real.
Hisoka's painted eyes narrowed as a thin smile spread across his face. Bisky flicked Yuzuki on the forehead before he could continue staring back.
"Pay attention to the opponent in front of you. Hisoka is on the other side of the bracket."
Yuzuki rubbed his forehead. "That was an injured part of my body."
"Your forehead is the healthiest part of you."
The final match placed Lucien Cain against Mira Sol. Mira's ability allowed her to create paths of light through open space, while Lucien controlled atmospheric pressure strongly enough to deny opponents the room they needed to accelerate.
The complete bracket settled beneath a digital golden crown. Viktor stood between Yuzuki and the semifinal. If Yuzuki defeated him, either Chrollo or Orion would be waiting next. Hisoka would only become his problem if they both reached the final.
Bisky tapped Viktor's image. "This is the only name that matters today."
Wing connected his tablet to the main screen and replaced the broadcast with footage from Viktor's Round of Sixteen match. His opponent attacked with a spear coated in dense Shu, thrusting fast enough to create a sharp crack through the air.
Viktor did not dodge or raise his hands. He simply stepped forward.
The spear stopped before reaching him.
It did not strike an invisible wall or shatter against a barrier. Its forward movement vanished so suddenly that the wielder's wrist twisted painfully from the change. Viktor continued walking and ended the match with one short elbow to the jaw.
"The public analysts believe Quarantine freezes the space around him," Wing said. "They claim nothing can move once it enters the field."
"They're wrong," Yuzuki answered immediately.
His lazy posture disappeared as he leaned forward, his Six Eyes following every movement in the slowed footage. Wing replayed the attack, then reduced the speed further at Yuzuki's request.
"Look at the dust around Viktor," Yuzuki said. "It keeps falling. His clothes keep moving, and the air is not trapped around him. If the space itself had frozen, everything inside the field would stop."
Kastro moved closer to the screen. "Then what happened to the spear?"
"The space didn't stop. The spear did."
Wing replayed another section in which a broken piece of stone was thrown toward Viktor. It slowed sharply as it approached him and dropped harmlessly to the floor.
Yuzuki watched the moment several times before speaking again. "His ability removes momentum from anything foreign that enters its range. The faster an attack is moving, the more suddenly it stops. That is why the spear wielder injured his wrist. His body kept pushing forward after the weapon lost its speed."
"Can you overpower it?" Bisky asked.
Yuzuki did not answer immediately. He watched Viktor walk through another rushing opponent and narrowed his eyes.
"I don't know. Throwing more power at him might only make the sudden stop worse. I need to see the ability directly before I can judge its limits."
Bisky gave a small nod. She seemed more pleased by the honest answer than she would have been by another confident theory.
"So you understand what the ability does," Wing said, "but not how Viktor maintains it."
"Not yet. The lost movement has to go somewhere, but this footage is not clear enough to tell me where."
A dry, elderly voice came from the open balcony. "Then do not become too proud merely because you solved the first half."
Kastro spun around and raised both hands into a fighting stance. Wing stood so quickly that his chair scraped across the marble, while Bisky shifted one foot and turned toward the curtains.
Yuzuki had noticed the approaching aura several seconds earlier. That did not make its owner any less overwhelming.
Chairman Isaac Netero stepped inside wearing a plain white kimono and wooden sandals. He held a half-eaten peach in one hand and looked like an old man who had taken a wrong turn while searching for somewhere peaceful to eat.
"Chairman Netero," Wing said, bowing deeply.
Kastro slowly lowered his hands, while Bisky gave Netero a respectful nod. "You could have used the door."
"The lobby was crowded," Netero replied. "The balcony was faster."
He walked into the suite and glanced over the expensive furniture. "A Floor Master suite with marble floors and a private training room. In my younger days, fighters slept beside the arena and were grateful if nobody stole their shoes."
"That sounds less like character-building and more like poor management," Yuzuki said.
Netero laughed before stopping beside the couch. He looked over Yuzuki's bandages and the mug of herbal tea resting nearby.
"You did well reaching the quarterfinals," he said. "Do not mistake that for praise. You also damaged yourself badly enough that your teacher has to threaten you into resting."
"Every useful technique has a price."
"Yes, but there is a difference between paying with blood and paying with your life."
Netero looked toward Viktor's frozen image on the screen. "Richter will not panic because he cannot touch you. He will keep advancing until you make a mistake. The others are no safer. Orion will study you, Chrollo will decide what you are allowed to study."
Yuzuki's fingers tightened slightly against the couch.
"Your eyes may show you the correct answer," Netero continued, "but that does not mean your body can always carry it out. One bad calculation during those fifteen seconds could be enough."
The fact that Netero had identified Infinity's cooldown from the tournament footage did not surprise Yuzuki, but it still reminded him how dangerous the Chairman truly was.
"I don't intend to make that mistake."
"No one intends to make the mistake that kills them."
Netero studied the bracket for a moment before looking back at Yuzuki. "Why do you want the crown? Is it revenge against Hisoka, pride or money?"
Yuzuki remained silent. Beyond the walls of Heaven's Arena, he knew that much greater dangers were coming. His memories showed him pieces of a future involving NGL, the Chimera Ant King, Kakin and horrors beyond the known world. They did not give him perfect dates or every answer, but they gave him enough to know that the fighters inside this tower were not the worst enemies he would one day face.
He could not explain any of that.
"Hisoka is part of it," Yuzuki admitted. "I would be lying if I said otherwise. But this tournament has rules, doctors and people watching. Outside this tower, the enemies that matter will not give me any of that."
Netero waited, allowing him to continue.
"I need to know whether my strength works against people who understand what I'm doing. If I can only win because someone has never seen my abilities before, then I'm not ready."
Netero stared into his eyes for several seconds before a broad smile appeared beneath his moustache.
"That is a better reason than revenge," he said. "It is also a heavier one."
He tossed the peach pit across the room, landing it cleanly inside a small bin near the kitchenette. "Do not die before the final, kid. Young monsters keep the old ones from becoming lazy."
Yuzuki glanced toward the Viktor footage. "Were you planning to tell me how to defeat him?"
"No."
The answer came so quickly that Bisky snorted.
Netero stepped toward the balcony with a grin. "If you need an old man to solve your quarterfinal, you should withdraw."
A moment later, he vanished over the railing.
Wing slowly released the breath he had been holding, while Kastro continued staring toward the empty balcony.
"I did not sense him until he spoke," Kastro admitted.
"You were searching for hostility," Bisky said. "The Chairman did not show any."
She turned back toward Yuzuki. "He was right. If you become arrogant against Viktor, he will crush you."
"I know," Yuzuki answered, his attention returning to the screen. For once, he did not argue.
---
Thousands of miles away, inside the Kakin Empire, Fourth Prince Tserriednich Hui Guo Rou sat in his private quarters surrounded by gold-trimmed walls, expensive paintings and rare objects whose former owners had not always surrendered them willingly.
Wearing a silk dressing gown, he rested in a large leather chair with a glass of red wine between his fingers. A monitor displayed slowed footage of Yuzuki's previous Battle Olympia match, pausing on the moment his Six Eyes were uncovered and Infinity distorted the space around him.
Morena Prudo stood several steps behind the chair with her hands folded neatly in front of her. The scar across her face was partly hidden by the dim light.
"Beautiful," Tserriednich murmured. "Those eyes are doing more than seeing aura. They are measuring every change around him before it happens."
"He appears to process information unusually quickly," Morena replied.
"Unusually?" Tserriednich smiled faintly. "A talented musician is unusual. A child who learns several languages is unusual. Those eyes are something else entirely."
He took a slow sip from his glass. The attempt to rely on the Zoldycks had produced nothing useful as of yet, and Tserriednich had no intention of leaving such a valuable specimen in the hands of one group of hired killers.
"I want a viable blood sample," he said. "Fresh enough to study. Muscle tissue would be preferable, but blood will be enough to begin."
"During the tournament?"
"After one of his matches. He is already injured and surrounded by medical staff. Use whatever disposable underworld assets are available, but do not damage the eyes."
Morena bowed her head. "It will be done, My Prince."
Behind her obedient expression, contempt moved quietly through her. Tserriednich could witness something extraordinary and think only of how to cut it apart, understand it and add it to his collection.
"You are dismissed," he said, turning his attention back to the screen.
Morena left without another word.
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By late afternoon, the sun had begun sinking behind the city, covering the sky in deep shades of orange and violet. Wing and Bisky had left to finalise Yuzuki's medical clearance, while Kastro stood on the terrace watching the surrounding balconies.
Yuzuki remained alone in the living room with another recording of Viktor playing on the screen.
A high-speed fighter rushed forward with aura covering his fist, aiming directly for Viktor's throat. Viktor did not dodge or raise a guard. He continued walking until the attacker entered Quarantine and lost every trace of forward movement. His footing collapsed beneath him, while Viktor's pace did not change by a single step.
Yuzuki replayed the moment twice.
Quarantine did not merely block attacks. It punished movement itself. The harder someone charged toward Viktor, the more helpless they became when their speed was taken away. Yuzuki's fighting style relied on rapid footwork, sudden acceleration, Blue-assisted movement and attacks that struck before an opponent could respond.
Viktor Richter was almost perfectly suited to counter him.
Yuzuki reached into his pocket, unwrapped a strawberry lollipop and placed it in his mouth. His Six Eyes remained fixed on the screen as Viktor walked through the failed attack once again.
"So moving toward you is the problem," Yuzuki murmured, a faint smile forming across his face. "Then I'll have to find another way."
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