The hum of the Heavens Arena's 240th floor suite was a constant, almost hypnotic backdrop to Kess's preparations. Time, compressed by anticipation, seemed to crawl. He sat in a meditative pose on the plush carpet, his eyes closed, his aura circulating in a calm, steady flow, a perfect manifestation of Ten. He was ready. He had reviewed every scrap of footage on Sawsan Samiya, but the more he watched, the more the man remained an enigma. Sawsan's Nen foundation was undeniably solid, movements precise, but there was no clear signature, no obvious tell that betrayed his Nen type or a predictable strategy. It was frustrating, but Kess had learned long ago that in the world of Nen, an unknown was often more dangerous than a known threat.
A soft chime announced his call. It was a pleasant, female voice from the arena's staff. "Mr. Kess, your match is about to begin. Please proceed to Arena 200."
Kess rose, his movements fluid, devoid of hesitation. He took a single, deep breath, centered himself, and walked towards the designated door. The walk through the sterile, hushed corridors of the 240th floor, normally a short, uneventful journey, now felt charged with a quiet energy. This was his domain, and he was about to defend it.
The roar of the crowd hit him like a physical wave the moment he stepped into Arena 200. It was a massive, circular amphitheater, tiered seating rising steeply towards the distant ceiling, packed with thousands of frenzied spectators. The air crackled with anticipation, a mix of excitement, bloodlust, and the subtle, lingering scent of various auras. Kess ignored it all, his gaze fixed on the center of the ring, where his opponent already stood.
Sawsan Samiya was indeed an imposing figure. He possessed the distinctive features Kess had come to associate with the Middle East: a sun-kissed, olive complexion, framed by a thick, dark mane of hair and an impressive, full beard that cascaded over his chest. His eyes, dark and piercing, held a glint of serene confidence. He wore flowing, dark robes that seemed traditional, yet were clearly cut for movement, a practical, understated elegance. A wide, ornate belt cinched his waist, and Kess noted the subtle bulge beneath the fabric near his hip – undoubtedly the hilt of a curved blade.
The referee, a stern-faced woman with a tight bun, stood between them. "Floor Master Kess!" she announced, her voice booming through the arena's speakers, eliciting another wave of applause.
"Are both fighters ready?"
Kess nodded, his expression neutral. Sawsan gave a slow, deliberate nod, his dark eyes never leaving Kess.
"Then, BEGIN!"
The moment the word left the referee's lips, the atmosphere in the arena shifted. Kess and Sawsan immediately flowed into their respective stances, their auras flaring, transforming into the tight, focused concentration of Ken. They began to circle, their movements almost synchronized, each probing the other, testing the waters.
Kess initiated the first exchange, a low, sweeping kick aimed at Sawsan's lead leg. Sawsan fluidly stepped back, deflecting the strike with a forearm reinforced by Nen. The impact sent a dull thud echoing through the arena. They exchanged a series of rapid-fire jabs and blocks, each strike laced with intent, each defense executed with precision. It was a classic exchange of skilled Nen users, reading micro-movements, anticipating attacks, forcing reactions. The audience loved it. This wasn't a flashy spectacle of Hatsu abilities just yet, but a raw, unadulterated display of foundational Nen mastery.
As the intensity increased, Kess continued his internal analysis. Sawsan's blows were direct, forceful, but lacked the explosive, raw power of an Enhancer. His movements were too straightforward to be a classic Manipulator and too direct for a Conjurer. Most likely not an Enhancer, but possibly a Transmuter or Emitter, Kess deduced, his mind racing even as he parried a powerful jab. Perhaps a Specialist with a very subtle ability.
He lunged forward, aiming a lightning-fast kick towards Sawsan's midsection, forcing Sawsan to cross his arms defensively. As Sawsan's aura flared to meet the impact, Kess's eyes widened.
Suddenly, without warning, an intense, searing white light erupted from Sawsan's open palm, aimed directly at Kess's face. It was blinding, overwhelming, searing his retinas with agonizing intensity. Kess had a split second to react, his instincts screaming. He threw his arms up, crossing them over his eyes, desperately trying to shield himself from the blinding glare.
The world went white, then black, a throbbing agony behind his eyelids. Through the searing pain, Kess felt a sharp, piercing sensation in his left shoulder. It was a deep, precise stab, the blade slicing through muscle and scraping bone. He stumbled back, grunting, his mind reeling from the sudden sensory overload and the unexpected injury.
"Do not move!" Sawsan's voice, clear and resonant, cut through the buzzing in Kess's ears. It was tinged with an unbearable arrogance. "And be thankful, worm, that you are being beaten by the great Sawsan Samiya!"
As Kess blinked furiously, the searing afterimages slowly began to recede, colors returning in blurred patches. His vision, though still hazy, gradually cleared enough for him to see. His left shoulder throbbed with a dull, insistent pain, and embedded deeply in it was an intricately designed jambiya knife, its curved, ornate hilt protruding grotesquely. Sawsan, meanwhile, was slowly, arrogantly walking towards Kess, his shoulders back, his expression a smug mask of victory. He moved as if the fight were already over, as if Kess were utterly defeated, already under his control.
And in most cases, he should have been. The blinding light followed by a precise stab, coupled with a verbal command, was a classic, devastating combination for a Manipulator. An ordinary fighter, even a skilled Nen user, would have been disoriented, disarmed, and then ensnared by Sawsan's manipulation. But Kess was not an ordinary fighter.
A subtle ripple, almost imperceptible, passed through Kess's aura. His own Inner Peace ability, a self-targeted manipulation that gave him absolute control over his own body, was already active. His earring stud, the unassuming conduit of his power, gleamed faintly. The first-come, first-served rule of Nen manipulation meant that if a target was already under one manipulator's control, they could not be controlled by another. Kess was already his own master. Sawsan's command, though forcefully delivered, simply washed over him, completely ineffectual.
The sharp pain in his shoulder was a searing reminder of Sawsan's effectiveness, but Kess felt no compulsion to obey. The man's arrogance, his premature victory walk, was a fatal mistake. Kess's eyes, now fully cleared, narrowed. His Nen, already condensed by Ken, flowed directly to his right fist, concentrating into a focused, devastating blow – a perfectly executed Ko strike.
Sawsan was almost within arm's reach, his face still twisted in a victorious sneer, utterly oblivious to Kess's freedom of movement. He expected Kess to be helpless, blinded, perhaps struggling against an unseen mental command. He had no guard up, no defense prepared for an immediate counterattack.
Kess moved. A blur of controlled speed. His right fist, glowing faintly with concentrated aura, slammed into Sawsan's jaw. The sound was a sickening crack that reverberated through the stunned arena. Sawsan's head snapped back, his eyes rolling up into his skull, and his body crumpled instantly, falling unconscious before he even hit the ground. The ornate jambiya knife in Kess's shoulder remained, a testament to Sawsan's earlier successful attack.
The roar of the crowd, which had been building in anticipation of Kess's downfall, abruptly cut off, replaced by a stunned, disbelieving silence. Then, a collective gasp.
The referee rushed forward, immediately checking Sawsan. After a quick, professional assessment, she raised her arm. "Challenger Sawsan Samiya is unable to continue! Winner, by knockout, Floor Master Kess!"
The arena erupted. It wasn't the triumphant roar Kess was used to, but a confused, bewildered explosion of sound. People were shouting, debating, utterly flummoxed by the sudden, unexpected turn of events. Kess ignored them, his attention focused on his throbbing shoulder. The jambiya remained embedded. He reached for the jambiya knife, his fingers carefully wrapping around the cold, ornate hilt. With a grimace, he pulled. The blade slid out with a sickening squelch, a fresh gush of blood welling up before Kess's enhanced healing quickly began to seal the wound. He tossed the knife to the floor, his expression grim.
Back in the privacy of his suite on the 240th floor, the first thing Kess did was activate Inner Peace to its fullest. His aura throbbed, concentrating on the injured area. He examined his shoulder, watching the skin knit together, the muscles and blood vessels rapidly repairing themselves. It would be fully healed within hours, a minor inconvenience thanks to Inner Peace. But the critical analysis had already begun.
"Fool," Kess muttered, not to Sawsan, but to himself. He stood before the mirror, flexing his repaired shoulder. "He should have killed me. Or at least aimed for a vital point after the blinding light. His ego... his need to control and gloat, instead of delivering a fatal strike, was his downfall. If not for my Inner Peace already being active, rendering his manipulation useless, I would have been helpless, and likely, dead. He had the advantage, the element of surprise, and he squandered it."
Kess let out a heavy sigh, the sound escaping his lips in a gust of profound self-reflection. "I'm still not strong enough... vigilant enough," he whispered, the words hanging in the sterile air of his suite. The world was full of dangerous Nen users, and a moment of complacency could be fatal, even for someone with his advantages. He needed to be sharper.
Two days later, the wound on Kess's shoulder was nothing more than a faint, pink scar, almost imperceptible. He had spent the time in his suite, continuing his training, but the desire to return to Whale Island gnawed at him. He needed to be back, waiting for Ging. He had booked a flight for that afternoon, eager to put the Heavens Arena challenge behind him.
He moved through the bustling terminal, blending into the ebb and flow of travelers. Suddenly, a prickle of unease. He unexpectedly detected a faint bloodlust and killing intent.
"Well, well, if it isn't the mighty Kess," a smooth, cultured voice purred from behind him.
Kess spun, his posture instantly defensive, his mind racing. Four figures. One was a blonde Caucasian man, tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in expensive-looking casual clothes that made him appear deceptively at ease.
To the blonde's left stood a dreadlock-haired dark man, lean and wiry, dressed in what looked like DJ-inspired street clothes – baggy pants, an oversized hoodie. His hands were tucked casually into his pockets.
Next to him, a braided, long orange-haired woman with sharp, predatory eyes. She wore tribal-esque dress that revealed toned limbs. Her hands were at her sides, seemingly relaxed.
And finally, stepping from the shadows, his dark eyes burning with cold fury, was Sawsan Samiya, the jambiya knife already clutched in his hand, its blade glinting menacingly.
"I should be the Floor Master, not you!" Sawsan spat, his arrogance replaced by a venomous hatred. "This is for my honor!"
Kess realized, a grim understanding settling in. They didn't like that Sawsan lost. Of course.
Kess immediately flooded his entire body with Nen, activating Inner Peace to its maximum. His muscles tightened, his senses sharpened, his speed and strength dialed up to their absolute peak. He moved before they could fully surround him, aiming a blurring kick at the blonde man.
The blonde, revealing surprising speed, moved into a practiced boxing stance, blocking Kess's kick with reinforced forearms. His counter-punch was brutally effective, a straight, powerful jab that Kess had to parry with a strong Gyo in his arm. A professional boxer, Kess noted, mentally categorizing him. Simultaneously, the dreadlock-haired man's hand flashed from his pocket, revealing a handgun. POP! POP! Two shots, seemingly ordinary bullets, but Kess felt the subtle presence of Nen behind them. He twisted, narrowly avoiding a headshot, feeling one bullet graze his side, leaving a superficial but stinging burn. The woman, with a chilling smile, extended her fingers, and Nen claws, sharp and gleaming with aura, materialized instantly from her fingertips. She lunged, aiming for his throat. Kess ducked under her sweeping attack, the sharp edges of her aura whistling past his ear. Sawsan darted in, his jambiya flashing, aiming for Kess's gut.
Too many! Kess thought, gritting his teeth. He was struggling. Even with Inner Peace boosting his physical attributes to superhuman levels, four coordinated Nen users, each with a distinct and dangerous fighting style, were overwhelming. The blonde was a pure brawler, relentless and powerful. The dreadlock man kept him off balance with ranged attacks. The woman was agile and deadly at close range, her Transmuter claws a constant threat. And Sawsan, though arrogant, was still a highly skilled Manipulator, his knife attacks precise and dangerous.
Kess blocked a kick from the blonde, then parried Sawsan's knife, the clash of Nen-reinforced steel ringing in the air. He felt a sudden, sharp sting on his leg as the woman's Nen claws raked across his thigh. He needed a game changer. He couldn't sustain this prolonged defense against their combined assault.
"I'm a Transmuter!" Kess roared, his voice cutting through the din of their attacks. As he vocalized the vow for Retroversion, his aura shimmered, undergoing a fundamental shift. The subtle, controlling presence of his Manipulation Nen dissolved, replaced by a vibrant, active aura that pulsed with raw, untamed energy.
The announcement hung in the air, creating a momentary, disorienting pause in their assault. The blonde hesitated, his punch halfway to Kess's face. The dreadlock man lowered his gun slightly, his brow furrowed in confusion. Even Sawsan and the woman momentarily faltered, their eyes wide with uncertainty. A Transmuter? Their expressions screamed. Is he bluffing? Why would he tell us?
The confusion didn't last long, but it was enough. The attacks resumed, still coordinated, but now laced with a noticeable tentativeness. They were unsure and surprised by the unexpected revelation. They didn't know what to expect from Kess, especially one who had just openly declared his nen type.
Kess took advantage of their slight hesitation. He reached behind his back, drawing the familiar weight of his katana. Its polished blade gleamed under the airport lights. He flooded the blade with his newly transformed Transmuter aura, channeling Resonance. The air around the katana vibrated, distorting the light, humming with an almost imperceptible, yet incredibly powerful, energy.
The blonde man, recovering first from his surprise, lunged, his fists cocked, still underestimating the sudden change. He blocked Kess's first sword strike with his reinforced forearms, confident in his defense. But the moment the katana made contact, a wave of unseen vibration tore through his guard. His muscles spasmed involuntarily, a sudden, debilitating cramp seizing his arms. He stumbled back, his eyes wide with shock and pain, his posture crumbling as his body betrayed him.
Kess didn't hesitate. His mistake. He moved with lethal precision. The vibrating katana whistled through the air, and with a single, devastatingly fast strike, Kess removed the blonde man's head from his shoulders. It rolled, hitting the floor with a sickening thud, a fountain of blood erupting from the severed neck.
The effect was instantaneous and profound. Sawsan, the dreadlock man, and the woman froze, their faces contorted in a mixture of disbelief, horror, and dawning fear. They hadn't expected such brutal efficiency, such a sudden, decisive kill. Their comrade was gone, instantly, gruesomely. Their previous anger transformed into pure, primal terror.
"You bastard!" the dreadlock man screamed, firing wildly. But his shots, once precise, now lacked composure.
Kess dodged the desperate volleys, then closed the distance in a single, blurring dash. The vibrating katana sliced through the air, aimed for the man's chest. He barely had time to scream before the blade cleaved through him, silencing him forever.
Only Sawsan and the woman remained, their eyes wide, their coordination shattered. They exchanged a terrified glance. Escape. That was their only thought.
"Run!" the woman shrieked. As she did, her Nen claws elongated and hardened, then shot forward from her fingertips like sudden, sharp projectiles. They weren't particularly fast, but they covered enough distance to force Kess to quickly deflect them with his katana, diverting his momentum just enough.
Sawsan, seeing his chance, threw his hand forward once more. A blinding flash of white light erupts from his palm, even more intense than before, enveloping Kess in an agonizing, searing glare.
Kess cursed, throwing his arms up, shielding his eyes, the memory of the jambiya sting still fresh. When his vision slowly returned, blinking away the painful afterimages, the area was empty. They were gone. Disappeared into the fleeing crowds, swallowed by the chaos they had created.
A surge of white-hot rage, raw and unfiltered, coursed through Kess. His opponents had attacked him, directly, personally, outside the confines of the arena. They had tried to kill him. And they had escaped.
His Nen, still vibrant with the energy of Resonance, throbbed. He looked down at the bodies of the two men, then towards the empty space where Sawsan and the woman had vanished. They attacked me so I will not let them get away with this... This isn't over.
He took out his phone, making a call to the Heavens Arena. "I need to speak to someone about Sawsan Samiya. And his associates. I need to know everything."
As he stood there, surrounded by the growing crowd, the remnants of the fight a stark tableau of violence, Kess's voice, low and dangerous, rumbled. "Those mother fuckes! I'll find them and anyone connected to them." The intensity of his aura, even uncontrolled, sent shivers down the spines of the curious onlookers. Those who were too close quickly scattered, giving the formidable, angry Floor Master a wide berth.