Yungu's fighting style was textbook brawler—straightforward, disciplined, strength-focused. His ability?
The classic Enhancer's self-enhancement.
But against Joey, that style was a bad draw.
In fact, it was practically hard-countered.
Because Killer Queen didn't play fair.
Touch your target—and it became a bomb.
With a snap of Killer Queen's fingers, that target would be erased from existence.
Even that wasn't what made it broken.
The real problem?
Joey had Gold Experience too.
If Killer Queen blew off his hand to deliver the fatal touch, Gold Experience could regrow it in minutes. No recovery time needed.
Sure, it took about three minutes to regenerate a hand—not long by normal standards. But in a tight fight? An eternity.
Of course… none of that mattered today.
Because Joey wasn't going to use either.
From the very first blow, he'd been laying the groundwork.
Those sparks from their opening punch weren't just flair. They were burning oxygen.
Every hit, every flicker of flame—they were consuming the air inside Joey's En.
At the same time, he'd been replacing it.
With carbon monoxide.
Colorless. Odorless. A silent killer.
He didn't need to poison Yungu to death.
Just make him dizzy. Make him misjudge. Make him slow.
That'd be enough.
But Yungu? He was even more ruthless.
He'd stopped breathing the moment the fight started.
He'd seen it coming.
He knew Joey would mess with the air.
Joey gritted his teeth. His poison plan was a bust.
But even so—he'd won the psychological war.
Now, Yungu only had two paths:
Win fast.
Or get out and breathe.
But in Joey's En?
He wasn't escaping.
Worse, rain had been falling steadily since the opening moments.
Icy drops built up layer after layer of frost, encasing the two in a dome of shifting, creeping ice.
Not just decoration.
The ice blocked vision. Clouded Yungu's ability to guess when Joey would vanish with Mirage.
Even worse, if Yungu tried to punch his way out, he'd expose a gap. And in this close-quarter slugfest, that meant opening himself up to death.
The ice was dense enough to stop him from riding the recoil of a punch into a retreat, too.
Even with little Nen infused, it was just enough to intercept.
Some ice even had spikes—primed to lunge at Yungu when he got too close.
Joey wasn't just playing keep-away. He was boxing Yungu in.
And with every punch Joey threw, there were hidden threats—tiny vortexes of spinning wind, edged like knives.
If Yungu let one land?
Those micro-blades would shred his flesh, drawing blood with every twist. Little bleeding cuts. Dozens of them. Hundreds.
Joey had all the terrain, all the tools.
Yungu had only his fists.
And the longer the fight went on?
The more the environment started draining him.
Lightning bolts dropped erratically from the clouds above.
Not lethal—but enough to paralyze.
Slivers of ice burst up from puddles, forcing Yungu to dodge.
It was death by a thousand distractions.
But all that power came at a cost.
Joey's Nen was draining fast.
And Yungu?
He was starting to adapt.
Wounds healed faster.
Strikes came quicker.
Joey's whirlwinds began to dissipate.
The Weather Beast at his shoulder shrank down, retreating to his chest in a compact, chibi form.
It was a cost-saving measure.
If the beast got destroyed, Weather Report would collapse entirely.
Joey couldn't risk it.
So he shifted. From offense… to defense.
He watched Yungu with surgical calm. His own arms raised to guard. Breath slow. Calculating.
Because Joey knew one thing.
The faster Yungu moved, the faster he burned oxygen.
The muscles along Yungu's arms twisted, forming wing-like fans of blood-red flesh. Steam rose off him. His fists blurred.
Every hit Joey blocked rattled his bones.
But he still had a final defense—a barrier of compressed atmosphere hugging his body like Kevlar.
Two shields—one of Nen, one of air.
And behind them?
Joey's patience.
He counted the seconds.
In this kind of extreme exertion, no matter how trained you were…
You couldn't last long without air.
Fifteen minutes, tops.
He was already at eleven.
Almost there…
The dome of ice had now completely sealed them in—thick as crystal.
From the stands, the crowd could only see silhouettes.
One standing tall.
The other, a red blur zipping like lightning.
Inside, Joey stood solid. Protecting his Nen Beast with both arms.
And waiting.
Because one misstep from Yungu…
And it would be over.
He felt the moment coming.
Yungu's eyes were bloodshot. Veins bulging. Oxygen gone.
And then—
"You lose."
Joey whispered it.
And his chest pulsed with light.
Weather Beast moved.
One arm extended—gentle.
But instant.
And just like that—
Yungu froze.
He staggered. Muscles puffed up. Skin distended.
He opened his mouth—nothing came out.
His body trembled.
Joey didn't hesitate. He cancelled his ability instantly.
Didn't want to kill the guy.
The moment the dome cracked, Yungu collapsed, gasping, heaving in the cold air.
His muscles deflated. His color faded from crimson to pale.
He laughed—weakly.
"Hah... hah… Thanks," he wheezed. "That... vacuum play... not fun."
Joey knelt beside him.
"Pressure drops too fast, blood boils," he said casually. "Steam in the veins, skin balloons—pop."
He made a little boom gesture.
"Would've popped me like a grape," Yungu chuckled bitterly. "If I didn't brace with Nen, I'd be soup."
"How'd I think of it?" Joey shrugged. "Books. Science. You ever hear: 'Master math and physics, and you can go anywhere?'"
The crystal dome shattered.
Rain washed away the haze.
"I guess if I'd broken the dome early, you couldn't vacuum-seal the space." Yungu sat up.
Joey just smiled.
"Maybe."
Truth?
The vacuum wasn't instant. Weather Beast needed time to prepare.
The ice dome just made sure Yungu couldn't escape while that time ticked down.
Still—worked out well enough.
"I wouldn't have lasted thirty more seconds anyway," Yungu said with a grimace. "I was almost out. Your ability's a nightmare for close-ranged fighters."
Joey nodded. "Close combat's high risk. High reward. I just… prefer odds."
The arena erupted.
"THE WINNER—JOEY!"
Commentators screamed praise. Fans roared.
Another victory.
Seven straight.
But on the arena floor, Joey and Yungu didn't care.
They walked together back toward the rest area.
No tension. No ego.
Just warriors. Talking shop.
Yungu insisted on dinner.
Joey refused to let him pay.
Instead, they grabbed Chihi and hit the arena's highest-end restaurant for a mini farewell feast.
Over plates of fine food, they didn't talk techniques—but philosophies.
How to fight conjurers. How to outwit manipulators.
What they'd seen. What they'd tried. What they'd survived.
Chihi listened wide-eyed, nodding. Memorizing.
Experience was gold. And he was collecting it by the bucket.
By the time they parted, it was nearly dawn.
The next morning, Joey was gone.
Back to HQ.
The lab? Already halfway built.
But the equipment, interior, staff… still months away.
He wouldn't be bringing Orange Cat home anytime soon.
Not until the place was fully armed and ready.
With cash in hand, Joey also had a villa commissioned—and a gravity chamber.
Expensive? Yes.
Worth it? Absolutely.
Hunter Association cash burned fast. One day you're rich. The next? It's all blueprints and bricks.
But as buildings rose, Joey felt something he hadn't in a long time.
Home.
Close enough to HQ.
Quiet. Comfortable.
A place to return to—after the madness.
That is, until he checked the blueprints…
Why is there a room for Sandbica?
And one for Kite? Gon? Killua? Alluka?
Why is there a doghouse labeled Knuckle? A bar labeled Shoot? A toy room for Ikalgo? A kitchen for Palm?!
…Is this a secret base?!
Too late.
Nob, Morel, and Andre had already started building their own villas next door—plus a horse ranch and a fish pond.
Joey sighed.
He gave up.
Let them have it. Could be worse.
After arriving by airship, Joey checked into a hotel instead of heading home.
He'd scheduled a meeting—with Krognu, the Hunter who applied for the lab manager role.
The interview would be short, professional.
Just the way Joey liked it.