Chapter 8
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The Heavens Arena knew how to build hype like no other.
Illumi found himself unusually captivated as colorful spotlights swept across the roaring crowd before locking onto Hisoka and Martina at the entrance.
Martina’s practical athletic gear—form-fitting and paired with combat boots—stood in stark contrast to Hisoka’s meticulously styled ensemble, which gave him an undeniable stage presence. The arena’s electric atmosphere amplified it all, stirring a rare surge of adrenaline even in Illumi.
Perfect. Now he could clearly sense Hisoka’s thrill bubbling over—like boiling water, or better yet, molten lava, complete with imagined gurgles. Maybe it was just Hisoka swallowing in anticipation. His gaze bored into Martina, a look Illumi knew all too well—not fondly recalled, but his manipulator’s cool, unyielding aura could temper that fire. Martina, as an enhancer, couldn’t; she was more like tectonic plates grinding, ready to unleash a volcanic eruption.
See? She couldn’t hold back. No one wants to play the lamb in a tiger’s den under that stare. Martina’s move was crisp: she leaped, cratering the stone where she launched, elbow slamming down toward Hisoka’s skull. He dodged; she extended into a punch that grazed his neck. Dust rippled outward like aftershocks, dusting the ceiling.
Illumi spotted the bruise blooming on Hisoka’s skin, but a quick burst of ken had shielded his bones.
“Clean Hit!” Martina scored a point.
Cheers erupted around Illumi, mostly from her fans waving what he deemed idiotic signs. He suspected Hisoka had orchestrated this—revenge for Illumi betting on her win.
“Hmm, stronger than I imagined.” Hisoka brushed it off like a mosquito bite. “How long have you been training nen?”
“Longer than you!” Martina crouched, poised like a predator ready to pounce.
“Oh? Longer than me? How exciting.”
Illumi watched Hisoka spread his hands, fingers curling subtly—Bungee Gum. But this time, it wouldn’t stick.
Martina sidestepped left as if evading something invisible, then exploded forward, her leg sweeping Hisoka’s ankles in a slide.
Caught off-guard by the failed adhesion, Hisoka flipped—swept like a felled tree. He recovered mid-air with a backflip, landing lightly five steps away, only to block her follow-ups with his forearm.
That arm’s done for, Illumi thought, spotting the twisted muscle from the fracture.
Her pursuit netted two more Clean Hits—three-point lead.
“Whoa, I see now. So that’s it.” As Martina pulled back, Hisoka grinned. “You enhanced your eyes. Such beautiful ones too—being stared down by them gets me all worked up.”
Illumi regretted this front-row seat; every word carried crystal clear, from Hisoka’s lilting tones to his drawn-out emphases.
“Let’s guess: you’re around 24, right?”
Hisoka posed it casually, hip cocked, flawless as idle weather chat.
Illumi pondered—if it were him, he’d ignore and target the injured arm relentlessly.
“Age doesn’t matter.” Martina sensed the trap, holding back, curious about his next play.
She’d missed her window, Illumi noted regretfully. Ignoring a magician often sparked boredom-fueled slips. Now she was hooked.
“How about guessing mine? Hint: our age gap’s perfect—my favorite, actually.”
What was Hisoka on about? Spectators whispered; even Illumi, who knew him well, drew a blank.
Hisoka flexed his fractured arm, realigning bone. “No ideas? By the way, that ability you dodged? Bungee Gum.”
Martina eyed him like an idiot. Illumi bet Hisoka was the first—and last—to volunteer nen details mid-fight.
He wiggled fingers again; she held steady—it was just joint loosening.
“Another hint,” Hisoka produced a card. “Guess this one’s number. Right, and you win a prize.” Illumi caught Hisoka’s glance lingering on the stands nearby.
Martina ignored, charging to shred that smug grin.
But her strikes whiffed; Hisoka evaded effortlessly, high heels no hindrance. To outsiders, a blur; Illumi tracked each dodge, fingers twitching for Bungee Gum openings.
“Hey, not curious about that age gap?”
Hisoka ducked, her wind grazing his nose, leaving a red streak.
“Honestly, I’m spot-on with people-reading.”
Martina channeled power into her knee for a gut shot; Hisoka flipped forward, using her momentum for a clownish aerial twist.
The moment arrived. “Fine, no guess? Answer time.”
Martina froze at the three of spades thrust before her eyes; Hisoka capitalized, nen-fueled fist smashing her face. Air rippled outward, dust forcing Illumi to shield his eyes. A third of the ring shattered; the ref retreated.
“Too bad—over already?”
Illumi saw the pink gum on Martina’s cheek, tethered to Hisoka’s hand. His assaults followed relentlessly; any dodge yanked her back into the next hit.
Seven points racked up—Hisoka led.
They faced off. Hisoka’s gummed finger swung like a pendulum; Martina panted, wiping blood, fixated on him. Her aura flickered wildly.
The scales had tipped. Illumi was glad he’d switched bets to Hisoka while he wasn’t looking—couldn’t argue with profit.
But Martina wouldn’t go down easy; enhancers were tanks in close quarters. Hisoka edged her slightly, but her age, experience, denser aura favored her. If he aimed for KO, strategy shift needed.
Hisoka pivoted—to verbal sleight. “Keep this card as a memento.”
He hurled the three of spades with vicious force—catching it bare-handed would sever fingers. Martina swatted it aside. Illumi snatched it mid-air before it hit his nose, glaring at Hisoka, brows furrowed.
Deliberate, no doubt. Martina’s left arm fatigued from blocks; facing an aggressive card, right-hand deflect was instinct. Not enough power for safe catch—reroute only option. Front row, subtle spin—calculated for distance, her interference, air resistance.
Hisoka planned to deliver it from the start: three of spades.
Spotlight on Illumi. Okay, maybe he got the motive—Hisoka’s “non-assassin expression” comment echoed.
Hisoka flashed a bright smile his way, worlds from his Martina glare.
Silence stretched nearly a minute; Illumi endured stares while announcers speculated ties to the fight. As his identity teetered, Hisoka reengaged Martina, resuming arena demolition.
Illumi exhaled—good, Killua couldn’t know he was here.
The rest bored him; he’d overestimated Martina. Gum-controlled, she crumpled like a civilian, yielding a Critical Hit. Nine to three.
Hisoka could end it any way. He hesitated pre-kill stroke—Illumi frowned, card slicing his palm. That pause could’ve cost against a live threat.
Mercifully, KO sealed it. Illumi approved, barely.
“You didn’t want to kill her.” Illumi broke silence ten minutes post-interview.
“Ah, that. Just assessing growth potential.” Hisoka lounged, legs propped on the table Illumi had cleaved. “Pity—hate blinds her. No further progress with impure motives. She glanced your way thrice mid-fight.”
“You drew her eyes each time.” Room dim, neon filtering in, shadowing Illumi’s gaze.
He tossed the card back. “First: dodging Bungee Gum. Second: age gap quip. Third: card to me.”
“Aw, thought I was subtle. Just probes—plus hinting post-win revenge via you.” Hisoka examined the three, then returned it. “Keep it—part of payment.”
Illumi eyed it suspiciously. “Useless to me.”
“Oh? Toss it then.”
Hisoka waved dismissively; Illumi pocketed it after scans—no tricks, just baffling.
“Right. You knew she wouldn’t target Killua.” A forgotten puzzle clicked, sparked by her style.
That nagging unease: a straightforward woman like her wouldn’t stoop to kids. Even hearing the massacre spared Illumi, she’d wavered (Hisoka baited with Kukuroo tickets).
“You set it up from the jump.”
Hisoka laughed, sofa shaking. “True. But the fight urge was real. And I enjoyed it.”
“I noticed.” Illumi toyed with the card. “You favor simple-minded, brawny enhancers.”
Hisoka arched a brow, probing Illumi’s face. “Say that, and I’ll think you’re jealous.”
Illumi mulled “jealous” three seconds, shook his head. “Just advice. Tonight, if she faked vulnerability last— you’d be the one down.”
“Oh, concern?”
“Don’t want my client dead.” Illumi deadpanned.
Hisoka skipped reminding payment was done. “That ‘want to see you’ commission? Sincere.”
Illumi paused, stood to leave, card stowed.
“Next time I text—don’t ignore fully, and I’ll ease up.” Hisoka called to Illumi’s vanishing silhouette, unsure if heard.