In a deathmatch in the arena, only one person can survive.
Tagore fell, but he wasn't dead yet.
So the match was not over.
After a brief silence, the spectators supporting Tagore yelled frantically for him to get up and continue fighting.
They didn't care about Tagore's physical condition; they only knew that if Tagore didn't get up quickly, they would lose a large sum of money.
However, no matter how much they shouted, Tagore remained unable to stand.
Moro's decisive blow had deprived Tagore of any chance to counterattack.
At this moment, he was like a newborn foal, constantly trying to get up, only to tremble and fall heavily back onto the ring floor.
Tap tap—
Moro walked over.
The light footsteps, to Tagore's ears, sounded like deafening drumbeats, or the roar of death approaching.
He groaned softly, struggling to get up, veins bulging all over his forehead and temples.
But the next moment, he spat out blood and stumbled back to the ground.
An attack imbued with Nen, once it struck a weak point, could cause immense damage in an instant, virtually declaring the end of the fight.
Tagore was actually very aware of this.
"Length of Life"
This was his Transmutation-type ability, essentially a combat-oriented ability that focused on attacking weak points.
Therefore, Tagore knew very well that having been hit in a "weak point," he had no chance of turning the tables and could only await the arrival of death.
Yet even so, he didn't want to accept this outcome.
"I surrender, I surrender...!"
Seeing Moro approach, Tagore cried out in a hoarse voice.
Not far from the ring, the referee heard Tagore's words but showed no reaction.
This was a deathmatch; no referee was needed.
Moro came before Tagore, watching his futile struggles, watching the look of defiance against death in his eyes.
"You don't even have... that much resolve?" Moro muttered.
Muttering softly to himself, Moro extended his hand and cleanly snuffed out Tagore's last breath.
The Lv.5 in the annual ring on the back of his hand suddenly became Lv.7.
He leveled up twice, but Moro didn't pay attention, slowly standing up.
Tagore lay quietly in the ring, a corpse slowly losing its warmth.
Many gambler spectators in the audience, seeing this scene, immediately let out desperate shouts and curses directed at Moro.
Moro ignored these sounds and walked towards the fighter's passage beneath the ring.
To ruthlessly kill Tagore, who had lost the ability to resist, even after victory was secured...
Even if someone condemned him afterwards for going to such lengths, his heart would remain undisturbed.
He insisted on killing Tagore.
Not because the nature of the match evolved into a deathmatch, nor because killing Tagore would allow him to level up.
But because Tagore wanted to kill him.
That was all.
Leaving behind the clamor filled with various emotions in the arena, Moro walked straight into the passage.
Even so, countless gazes still fixed on the entrance to the passage.
"This newcomer... is not to be trifled with."
A 200th-floor fighter in the audience stared at the passage entrance, where Moro's figure was no longer visible.
He had watched the entire match.
Although he perceived that Moro possessed an ability to adapt and grow stronger during combat, he was confident that he could defeat Moro in an arena setting.
But his subconscious told him not to provoke Moro.
"Forget it, I'll focus on other newcomers instead."
This 200th-floor fighter quickly made his decision.
He specifically went to the lower floors to watch matches, aiming to gather useful information about newcomers like Moro and Tagore, who were likely to reach the 200th floor in the future.
The motive for doing so was naturally to pry a crucial victory from the hands of these newcomers.
There were quite a few 200th-floor fighters who shared the same idea as him.
For Moro and Tagore's match alone, more than thirty 200th-floor fighters had specially come to watch.
Some fighters, after watching the match, felt Moro was not someone to provoke, and immediately gave up focusing on him, shifting their attention to other fighters still striving for the 200th floor.
Others believed Moro's strength was still immature, and there was a complete opportunity to gain a point from him.
These 200th-floor fighters, who specifically targeted newcomers, did not feel there was anything wrong with their approach.
Once on the 200th floor, if one didn't want to be eliminated and lose fame, fortune, and status, then one had to find ways to win more matches.
They were merely doing things for their own benefit within the rules.
Of course.
If they were pushed to the edge of a cliff, with no way back...
Then they wouldn't mind doing things outside the rules to harm others.
"You wouldn't happen to... be asking me for tuition fees, would you?"
In the corridor leading to the 190th-floor fighters' lounge, Moro looked at the woman with the long ponytail in front of him, half-jokingly.
The reason for asking this—
was that when she came over, after introducing herself, she said she had watched the previous match.
Thus, she naturally saw the footwork used when dealing with Tagore in the ring.
"How could I... I don't have that kind of ability."
The woman with the long ponytail, named Kalista, immediately waved her hand in denial upon hearing Moro's words.
Moro smiled, naturally seeing through her intentions:
"You want to know why I used your footwork, don't you?"
"Yes, and not entirely."
Kalista shook her head upon hearing this.
"After losing to you that day, I've been following your matches. I know you're constantly learning, learning during battles with opponents. When I saw you use the 'Gazelle' footwork just now, I was indeed surprised, but what I'm more curious about is..."
At this point, Kalista's expression towards Moro suddenly became serious and earnest.
"The reason you can use 'Gazelle' so well, I can feel it... you must possess some kind of knack, a knack that I don't know what it is, but it definitely exists."
"..."
Moro was slightly surprised and nodded:
"I won't deny it."
"Then could you..."
A light appeared in Kalista's eyes.
"Are you also here for this?"
Moro, however, suddenly interrupted Kalista, turning his head to look at the corner of the corridor.
After a brief silence.
A young man with short silver hair and a handsome appearance walked out from around the corner of the corridor.
The man was not surprised that Moro could detect him, because in his eyes, Moro's presence had become so formidable that he was willing to put aside his pride and come to investigate.
"Yes, I am also very curious... about that certain power, like a wall."
The man straightforwardly admitted in response to Moro's question, then frankly revealed his intention:
"My name is Huashidoulang. If Mr. Moro can help me clear my doubts... then whatever Mr. Moro requests, I will agree to it and do my utmost to fulfill it."
"Hmm?"
Moro looked at the man with some surprise.
Beside him.
Kalista stared intently at Huashidoulang.
A miscalculation...
I should have stated my resolve first!
(End of chapter)
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