Lucario responded instantly. A brilliant white light enveloped its fist, illuminating the entire arena. It wasn’t just glowing—the aura was alive, crackling with raw, condensed force. The audience held their breath.
For a mont, it was as if a cot had descended upon the ring.
Steel-Type Move—teor Mash!
The mont Jim’s fist collided with Lucario’s, a deafening explosion erupted. Jim’s body was launched backward like a cannonball. He crashed straight into the arena wall, creating a massive human-shaped crater. The force was so imnse that the arena floor cracked beneath the impact.
A heavy silence fell over the entire Sky Arena. No one spoke. No one moved.
The remnants of Jim’s shirt barely clung to his battered fra, now reduced to tattered rags. His body, marred with bruises and streaks of blood, presented a grueso sight. After spitting out another mouthful of blood, Jim’s body finally gave out, sliding down from the crater in the wall and collapsing onto the ground, unconscious.
For a brief mont, the arena was silent. The audience, who had believed the fight to be evenly matched, were left in stunned confusion. The once-intense battle had ended in a decisive conclusion.
Now, only one figure remained standing in the ring. The very place where Jim had fought with all his strength now bore a deep crater, as though a cot had truly crashed into the arena. The aftermath of Lucario’s teor Mash was undeniable proof of Larry’s overwhelming power.
The referee, who had wisely evacuated the ring the mont the final exchange had begun, cautiously climbed back up, his legs trembling. He took a deep breath, steadied himself, and then raised his arm. “The winner—Larry!”
The crowd erupted into a deafening roar. "LARRY! LARRY! LARRY!" Chants of his na filled the Sky Arena, as the audience stood in awe of the unstoppable rise of the "Invincible." This wasn’t just another victory. This was the last Floor Master standing between Larry and the previous champion.
The audience was witnessing a new force taking over the Sky Arena. Their excitent was electric. Larry wasn’t just strong—he was inevitable.
As the fans celebrated, the dical staff rushed onto the stage to carry Jim away for treatnt. Despite his grueso injuries, Jim’s breathing was stabilizing. He would recover. Standing over his fallen opponent, Larry watched for a mont, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Then, without a word, he turned and left the arena.
From the stands, Biscuit observed the entire scene, her wine-red eyes reflecting quiet contemplation. Her gaze flickered from Larry to Jim, who was already being tended to. “Another plus point…” she muttered to herself with a smile. She hadn’t expected Larry to leave Jim alive. Of course, even if Larry had let him die, Biscuit wouldn’t have thought any less of him. But the fact that he chose to spare Jim—a warrior who had fought with honor—earned him even more of her approval.
Larry had fought without hesitation—not holding back out of pity or arrogance. And yet, when the battle was over, he didn’t mock Jim. He had respected his opponent’s spirit, acknowledged his effort, and ensured he would recover. It was sothing Biscuit admired.
Larry didn’t think much about it. He had rely followed his own instincts. If an opponent was an honorable warrior, then he would return that respect. Jim was one of the rare few in the Sky Arena who fought not for fa or money, but to hone his martial arts.
Through Lucario’s Wave Sense, Larry had already understood Jim’s heart. He had never harbored the intent to kill. Sure, he had fought with everything he had—but Jim had never intended to take Larry’s life.
That was the real difference between him and other Floor Masters. Most of them were chasing glory. Jim, on the other hand, was chasing strength. He reminded Larry of Isaac Netero. That sa unwavering pursuit of martial mastery. A true fighter’s spirit. It would’ve been a waste to let him die.
Of course, Larry had no idea that this simple choice had earned him even more favor from Biscuit. Not that he cared. He didn’t live for approval. He simply did what he wanted. And now, only one opponent remained. The forr champion of Sky Arena. Larry’s lips curled into a smirk. "I hope you're worth the experience points."
While Larry was preparing for his final match in the Sky Arena, another battle had just concluded. The fallen body of Kastro lay motionless, surrounded by blood and scattered playing cards. The "rematch" he had prepared for two years had ended in failure. Hisoka stood above him, unimpressed. "What a waste of ti..." he muttered, his eyes gleaming with boredom.
It wasn’t just that Kastro had lost. It was how he lost. Kastro had potential. But he had wasted it by trying to develop a Clone Ability—sothing that didn’t suit an Enhancent-type Nen user. Instead of focusing on his strengths, he had forced himself down a path that weakened him. That was what Hisoka couldn’t forgive. Such wasted potential was nothing but a disappointnt.
Despite the brutality of the match, the audience wasn’t as shocked as before. If it had been any other ti, Hisoka’s performance would have stunned them. But after watching Larry’s overwhelming victories, the audience had beco numb to shocking battles. What had once seed unbelievable—a warrior crushing his opponent with absolute dominance— Was now sothing they had seen too many tis.
The Sky Arena had changed. Larry had changed it. And now, people only had one question left. Would Larry’s final opponent be able to stop him?
***
Machi worked in silence, her fingers weaving her aura threads through Hisoka’s severed hands. Her expression was as unreadable as ever, eyes focused solely on the task at hand. She had done this before—many tis, in fact—but that didn’t an she did it for free. "20 million for the left," she murmured flatly, finishing the last stitch. "50 million for the right."
The price had gone up. Hisoka didn’t care. He rely chuckled, watching as the sinew and bone realigned flawlessly under her Nen’s influence. His body was whole again, but his mind? That was elsewhere. He had gone into his fight with Kastro expecting a release. A challenge. But Kastro had disappointed him. Two years, and the man had squandered his potential on an ill-suited ability. The result had been inevitable. Unsatisfying. Hisoka’s desire had not been sated.
"You’re interested in him too, aren’t you?" Machi asked breaking his train of tought.
Hisoka paused . Then, ever so slowly, a knowing smile curled at his lips. "Larry?"
Machi’s fingers moved with a thin strand of aura, twisting it between them. "He’s strong. And he’s getting stronger." Her sharp eyes flicked up to et Hisoka’s. "And that’s a problem."
Hisoka’s smile widened, his tongue flicking over his lips in anticipation. "Oh… why would that be?"
Machi held his gaze for a long mont, then scoffed, turning away. "Figure it out yourself."
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