HxH: Ryomen... Satoru?

Behind Cyr stood three distinct figures.

The first was an extremely tall and equally obese man, so large he resembled a walking ball of flesh.

The second was a mysterious figure draped in a black cloak, face concealed behind a mask, leaving not even a strand of hair visible.

The third was a man whose stiff, permanent smile seemed welded onto his face, with his eyes nearly shut into narrow slits.

All three were strikingly unique.

Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that every competitor on the 200th floor had a highly distinctive appearance.

"We just happened to want to participate in a match as well," the man as large as a mountain of meat said, holding an oversized bag of chips that somehow looked comically small in his hands. His voice, however, didn't match his hulking appearance.

Cyr immediately thought of those internet trolls who would use a fake, feminine voice to lure unsuspecting people into infatuation before delivering a crushing blow by revealing their real selves.

"Doesn't matter. You can all come at me at once," Cyr sneered, his tone dripping with disdain. He didn't even bother to give them a proper look.

His stunning blue eyes seemed incapable of acknowledging anyone, filled with indifference and a sense of superiority.

"We don't stoop to bullying people," the smiling man said, his tone relaxed and nonchalant.

As if targeting newcomers in matches wasn't a form of bullying.

"This is just the initiation ritual every rookie has to go through," the mysterious cloaked figure chimed in.

"I don't care," Cyr replied as he walked toward the end of the corridor, eyes closed. The keyring of his newly obtained room key dangled lazily from his finger.

"If you're not afraid of dying, feel free to come at me." With that offhand remark, he left without looking back.

The three 200th-floor competitors stared at Cyr's retreating figure until he completely disappeared from sight.

Suddenly, the cloaked figure spoke up.

"I like that kid's eyes."

"Bowie, make sure to gouge them out for me during the match."

The massive man, Bowie, dismissed the suggestion outright. "No way. Gouging out people's eyes isn't my thing."

"Sure, his eyes are beautiful, but I'm not interested in that kind of stuff," he said, munching on his chips.

"If you like them so much, why don't you do it yourself?" the smiling man added, grinning as always.

"Tch," the cloaked figure clicked his tongue in irritation.

"But as for this rookie, let me take him first. My 90-day limit is almost up," Bowie announced.

The other two didn't object.

Above the 200th floor, the time between matches shortened due to the scarcity of newcomers—and because every battle left competitors with severe injuries.

That was why each competitor had only three months to prepare. The more they gained, the more they had to pay.

This principle held true in the Heaven's Arena as well.

"Hurry up and schedule our matches," Bowie said, handing his registration form to the woman at the desk.

"Please wait patiently. The matches will be arranged as soon as possible," the staff member replied.

Unlike her earlier enthusiasm with Cyr, she kept her words short and professional when dealing with veteran 200th-floor fighters.

Because these competitors were all, in essence—extremely dangerous.

The rooms on the 200th floor were at least ten times larger than those on the lower floors. While the lower floors offered cramped 20-square-meter spaces, the 200th-floor rooms were luxurious 200-square-meter suites.

The difference in treatment was starkly evident in every detail.

On the wall of the room hung a small electronic screen.

Cyr stared at the screen for a moment and saw a message pop up—a notification about his next match.

The match was scheduled for January 25th.

In other words... tomorrow.

"Faster than I expected," Cyr murmured, glancing at the notification, though it didn't seem to concern him much.

He wondered briefly which of those three competitors would be his opponent.

After washing up, Cyr lay on the bed, his energy flowing continuously as he kept training even at rest.

Thanks to the cooperation of the Six Eyes, he had complete mastery over the energy within his body. Without that synchronization, these eyes might have become more of a burden than a boon. In such a case, he might have considered gouging them out and finding another set.

"Come to think of it, I wonder if Maro managed to materialize a vehicle using the chariot card," Cyr thought, staring at the chandelier above.

The card's effects lasted 24 hours…

At this thought, Cyr sat up, jumped out of bed, and rushed out the door.

Better to check on him. If Maro hadn't managed it yet, Cyr would give him a thorough scolding.

---

On the 120th floor, a blonde figure stood facing a wall, his brows tightly furrowed, his expression heavy with thought.

What kind of vehicle would be worthy of Cyr?

Maro had seen countless luxury cars, but even the most extravagant of them felt unworthy of Cyr.

After all... even his biological father rode in those luxury cars.

If Cyr's vehicle was on the same level as his father's, wouldn't that be an insult to Cyr?

Maro racked his brain but couldn't imagine a unique and extraordinary vehicle that could match Cyr's stature.

Suddenly, a voice sounded behind him.

"Hey, you haven't materialized it yet?"

Maro turned around to see the white-haired, blue-eyed youth standing there, an amused smirk on his face, the black markings on his skin adding an air of menace.

"I deeply apologize, my lord," Maro said, bowing his head in shame.

"I simply can't think of a vehicle that would be worthy of you." His tone was earnest and filled with sincerity.

This guy really took his offhand comment seriously…

In truth, Cyr would have been fine with anything that looked cool and stylish.

But since Maro was so serious about it...

"Obviously, only the King's Throne is worthy of me," Cyr said with a straight face.

"The Celestial King's… Throne?" Maro asked, his voice laced with confusion. "What is that, my lord?"

"A radiant vessel of gold and emeralds that soars through the skies, powered by solar energy. It can fly at high speeds, dive into the sea, and move freely underwater. On top of that, it boasts formidable offensive capabilities, armed with weapons like nuclear missiles…" Cyr listed off these features casually.

N-nuclear missiles?!

Was that even something that could be installed on a vehicle?

But if Cyr said it existed, then it must exist.

The only problem was… how could this even be materialized? Could it even be materialized?

Maro fell into deep thought.

A radiant vessel likely meant a ship. A ship made of gold and emeralds, powered by solar energy, capable of flying…

As he visualized the so-called "King's Throne" in his mind, Maro failed to notice how quickly his energy was depleting.

Cyr watched the whole process unfold but didn't intervene, allowing Maro to continue.

In the void, faint ripples and vortexes began to form, shimmering with tiny points of light.

The next moment, the blonde figure collapsed onto the ground, and the vortex instantly dissipated.

"So, if one's strength is sufficient, it really might be possible to materialize Vimana?" Cyr mused, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

The "King's Throne," or rather Vimana, was one of the treasures of a certain heroic king, Gilgamesh, in a particular Type-Moon world.

Maro, of course, couldn't materialize something like that. Even Cyr himself likely couldn't materialize it right now.

After all, it was a noble phantasm, something far beyond the realm of ordinary creation.

But maybe one day, when his strength was great enough, he could give it a try.

°°°

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