As Kisho finished speaking, the referee looked toward the boy in the center of the field and waved his hand in signal:
"The first round, first match—Candidate No. 233 and Candidate No. 234, C·L, win."
Kisho shrugged at his former opponent Fizelle, whose expression didn't look very good, and comforted her.
"It's fine. Don't you still have another chance later?"
Fizelle: "…"
She shot Kisho a look that clearly wanted to stab him with her eyes, but Kisho had already turned around and walked back toward the waiting area.
"Nice work. That was a good fight."
C·L, who was sitting on the ground reading another book he had picked up, raised his head and praised with a smile.
Kisho: "…Cough. It was alright."
Now it was Kisho who felt like stabbing someone.
After the two-on-two match of the first round's first battle ended, Amos and the other four candidates scheduled for the second match had already prepared themselves without needing any instructions from the examiner.
Kisho casually strolled a few steps away from C·L without drawing attention, then moved over beside Amos, using him to block himself between C·L while saying:
"You're going to fight Kite. Both of you are people I know. Although I know you a bit better, to keep things fair, I won't cheer for you."
"As if I'd win just because you cheered for me."
Amos said irritably,
"Get lost, get lost. I don't need your completely insincere encouragement."
"So heartless. Then I'll cheer for Kite instead."
Kisho curled his lips, then turned his head toward Kite and smiled.
"Good luck!"
Kite: "…?"
"The first round, second match. Two versus two. Candidate No. 232 Mire Eros and Candidate No. 140 Togari versus Candidate No. 382 Kite and Candidate No. 621 Zart."
The examiner's voice rang out as his gaze fell on the four of them.
"Candidates, enter the field."
Amos casually stretched his body, but his eyes had already turned sharp and focused.
Standing opposite him, Kite looked calm. His long blade seemed to rest casually in his hand, yet his thumb was tightly pressed against the guard, ready to strike.
The two teams faced each other, and the atmosphere gradually grew heavy.
"How are we fighting?"
Togari drew out his twin blades and asked Amos coldly.
"I'll take the sturdy fat guy who looks really strong."
Amos said. His eyes rolled slightly before he patted Togari on the shoulder and glanced at Kite with his eyes, smiling.
"That tall, skinny guy who clearly looks malnourished and weak—I'll leave him to you. How about it? Aren't I generous?"
Togari stared at the two people opposite them. Something felt off, but he couldn't figure out what exactly, so he simply nodded.
"Alright."
After hearing Amos speak, the corner of Kite's mouth lifted slightly.
What a nasty kid.
But it didn't really matter. No matter how the battlefield was split, in the end the match would still become a one-on-one between him and this boy named Amos.
He glanced sideways at Zart beside him, who was sweating nervously from head to toe, then withdrew his gaze and naturally equated the guy with "nonexistent" in his mind.
"Ready! Begin!"
The referee waved his hand sharply to signal the start, then quickly retreated to the side to avoid getting caught in the fight.
Kite stood still where he was, waiting for his opponent to come to him.
"Whoosh—"
"Whoosh—"
Two streaks of silver flashed as Togari's twin blades spun toward him.
And Amos was even faster than the blades. One could say that the instant he vanished, he had already appeared beside Kite.
Kite's long blade flashed out of its sheath. Turning his body sideways, he blocked the strike. The dagger and long sword collided with a crisp clang.
"Ah, looks like that didn't work."
It had only been a probing attack to begin with, so failure was expected. Amos stuck out his tongue and immediately swung away from Kite's side without hesitation.
Amos—who could even trick his own teammate when he got ruthless—was now fighting in a way completely unrelated to the plan they had discussed before the battle, causing Togari's face to darken.
Yet Amos felt no guilt whatsoever for deceiving his teammate. He had already reached Zart's side, lightly patting him on the back as he smiled.
Zart hadn't even realized what had happened before Amos jumped up and smacked the back of his head with a slap. His entire body lost control and toppled forward, crashing onto the floor with a loud "bang."
Amos's team scored the first point.
In the blink of an eye, Togari's flying blades had also reached Kite—though they were useless, because Kite's long sword had already been fully drawn, knocking both blades to the ground.
After that, he casually pressed down the brim of his hat and lightly tapped the ground with the tip of his foot, appearing beside Togari in an elegant motion.
The blade gleamed coldly as its edge rested lightly against Togari's throat.
Togari: "…"
Staring at the sharp blade less than a hair's breadth from his throat, he might have struggled a little more—but it would have been meaningless.
This opponent was completely beyond what he could deal with right now.
Togari clenched his teeth.
"…I concede."
With a soft swish, the blade returned to its sheath.
Togari walked toward the edge of the field in defeat, not forgetting to glare fiercely at Amos's back.
Tall and skinny, malnourished—my ass.
That chestnut-haired brat and the white-haired one were clearly cut from the same cloth. Not a single word out of their mouths was true. Who knows how their parents raised them.
Outside the field, Kisho sneezed.
C·L rubbed his nose.
Inside the arena, the situation instantly turned into a one-on-one.
"So, what do you think?"
Amos shrugged at Kite.
"Should we fight with our full strength? The rules didn't say we couldn't. Or… just fight like this?"
Kite casually lifted his hand in a gesture.
"You decide. Either way is fine with me."
"I see."
Amos frowned slightly. After thinking for a moment, he said,
"Then… whoever uses their full strength first loses. How about that?"
Kite nodded.
"That works."
Outside the arena, the spectators who couldn't understand their conversation showed confused expressions. But Kisho knew that the "full strength" Amos was referring to meant Nen abilities beyond Ten, Zetsu, and Ren.
He glanced subtly at C·L, who was still reading his book, and sighed.
Hopefully this guy was still under restrictions and couldn't use Nen abilities. If they fought while both could use Nen abilities, he probably wouldn't be able to get his revenge.
Heh. That's exactly why I picked this moment when he's "weak."
Inside the arena, the battle erupted again.
Gone was the earlier casual attitude of light skirmishing. Amos now brought out all of his strength except his Nen ability.
With the enhancement of Nen, even without using advanced techniques or Nen abilities, a Nen user's speed and strength far surpassed ordinary people.
Under the stunned and frightened gazes of the onlookers, the two fighters clashing in the arena moved so fast they were nearly impossible to see.
Although Amos did not belong to the three combat-oriented Nen types, his fighting techniques were still formidable.
The dagger in his hand, under his precise control, constantly struck at fleeting openings within Kite's stance from tricky angles.
However, Amos frowned.
The difference in age and the time spent learning Nen were both there. No matter how much technique he used to compensate, it was useless.
Not to mention that in terms of technique, Kite's swordsmanship was no weaker than his—if anything, it far surpassed him.
It looked as though he had the upper hand, but Amos knew that was only because Kite hadn't really started attacking seriously.
That realization made him frown in annoyance.
"For you, is this kind of fight pretty boring?"
Amos leapt backward and looked at Kite.
"Let's finish it with one last move."
"Not at all. You're very good."
Kite spoke seriously in response to Amos's earlier remark. He slightly tilted his wrist, and the reflected light from the long blade in his hand shone across the floor like a slash of sunlight.
"As you said. One last move."
The moment the words fell, both figures vanished.
And in the instant their silhouettes crossed, time seemed to freeze.
Kite's long blade rested horizontally before Amos's throat.
Meanwhile Amos's dagger still remained three inches away from Kite's vital point.
The blade touching his skin was wrapped in a layer of aura visible only to Nen users—Ken.
Even if he hadn't used Ken, Kite wouldn't have truly slashed that strike down. But standing at the edge of life and death, Amos had no time to think that far.
He stood silently in place, reliving the razor-thin exchange from moments ago and the death that had been within arm's reach.
On the other side, Kite moved without Amos noticing. With a "clink," the katana was already back in its sheath.
"According to the agreement, the one who used full strength first loses."
Amos's expression relaxed. He looked up at Kite.
"I lost."
The corner of his mouth lifted as he looked at Kite.
"But—"
Kite met his gaze.
"If you want to settle this fight later, I'm always ready."
"Alright."
As they spoke, the two turned in different directions and walked toward the waiting area.
"The second match is over. The winners are Candidate No. 382 Kite and Candidate No. 621 Zart."
The referee's voice drifted over.
"That was a great fight. But look—you got the short end of the stick, didn't you?"
Kisho walked toward Amos and slung an arm over his shoulder, grinning mischievously.
Amos was puzzled.
"…What short end?"
"My cheering."
Kisho grinned.
"Look, when I cheered for Kite, he won. You didn't want my cheering, so you lost."
Completely disregarding brotherly friendship, Kisho emphasized again:
"You. Lost. Oh~"
Amos: "…"
Kite, who had overheard what Kisho said: "…"
"Heh!"
Amos sneered.
"Then why don't you cheer for yourself next time?"
"When you fight Mr. C·L, maybe you'll win too!"