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Chapter 89
🕑 Added 2024-12-05 09:51:11 +0000 UTC"In such a massive environment, if Uvogin and Nobunaga don't show up...
Not to mention they'd face the wrath of the entire world, their reputations and momentum would plummet, turning them into pariahs in the eyes of fighting enthusiasts. Even Heaven’s Arena itself wouldn’t let them off the hook.
After expending so much energy, manpower, resources, and finances, only to receive such a disappointing result?
It would be an outright slap in the face to the entire world and a blatant provocation to Heaven’s Arena itself!
Heaven’s Arena would never accept such an outcome.
As a colossal organization, the amount of power and influence it could mobilize was truly terrifying.
Precisely because of this, Heaven’s Arena, accustomed to its pride and dominance, never entertained the idea that Uvogin and Nobunaga would treat the entire world as fools.
Or rather, they instinctively believed such a scenario to be impossible.
After all, any person with even a modicum of sense wouldn’t do something so reckless.
But as the announcer had said, logic is for novels—real life is often absurd and doesn’t follow such rules.
There are always those audacious enough to defy convention and do the unexpected.
And sure enough, such a situation arose.
In a dim alleyway outside Heaven’s Arena—
"Are we really just going to leave like this?”
Nobunaga stroked his chin, gazing in the direction of Heaven’s Arena, his eyes betraying a tinge of regret.
“If we leave now, I’ll completely lose all my little fangirls.”
He sighed lightly, adding, “They were such... sweet admirers.”
Though his words conveyed regret, there wasn’t even a hint of genuine reluctance in his tone.
“If you want to go back and join that boring competition, suit yourself,” Uvogin said nonchalantly, picking at his nose. “I’ve lost all interest.”
“The quality of the contestants has been steadily declining these past two years. All the strong Floor Masters have retired one after another, and the ones coming up now? Barely worth mentioning.
He spoke with boredom. “Even the so-called champion of the Olympia Martial Arts Tournament wasn’t all that impressive.”
The Olympia Martial Arts Tournament, held every two years, was the most grandiose martial arts event for Heaven’s Arena and combat fans worldwide, bar none.
After more than two years, Uvogin had naturally seen the tournament and witnessed the prowess of its champion.
Though he didn’t formally participate in the competition in front of the crowds.
In his words, following their rules and fighting under their terms felt awkward and uncomfortable.
Thus, after the latest champion was crowned, Uvogin took it upon himself—on a dark and windy night—to pay the champion a special visit.
In the depths of the night, Uvogin “exchanged blows” with the champion.
While Uvogin rarely considered the consequences of his actions, he wasn’t a fool. He knew how to achieve his goals without attracting unnecessary trouble.
He chose to challenge the champion in private, testing their mettle on his terms.
And the result?
Uvogin completely lost interest in both the champion and the tournament.
Both he and Nobunaga had long been planning to leave, eager to explore the wider world and encounter more powerful Nen users.
It was at this time that their leader, Chrollo Lucilfer, gave them a call.
After three years of formation, the Phantom Troupe was finally ready for a full gathering of its members!
Upon confirming with Chrollo that Morin would also be attending, Uvogin and Nobunaga reached a unanimous decision:
Now was the perfect time to leave Heaven’s Arena!
To them, this place held no further appeal or reason to stay.
However, just as the two packed their sparse belongings—Uvogin had none, while Nobunaga only took his savings book—and prepared to set out, Machi stopped them.
In her usual calm demeanor, with thin threads glinting faintly in her hands, she remarked:
“If you’re going to leave, at the very least, leave a lasting impression on the world.”
“How?”
Uvogin and Nobunaga, indifferent by nature, were open to anything. One had eyes only for his blade, while the other cared for nothing beyond training his body and defeating opponents."
"In the future, we won’t be coming back here, so why not make the most of your departure?"
A glint flickered in Machi's eyes, sharp and dazzling.
"Let’s go big!"
The thread in her hands snapped cleanly in response to her declaration.
Under Machi’s instigation, today’s spectacle unfolded—a fight destined to go down in the history of combat, forever shaming Heaven’s Arena.
The match, hyped to the peak of public attention, culminated in both fighters failing to show up.
This was... utterly absurd!
A slap to the face of Heaven’s Arena, pressing its dignity to the ground and grinding it into the dirt!
Not only had they failed to control the fighters for the world’s most anticipated battle, but the arena’s preparation and professionalism were also made a laughingstock.
What was once the sacred battleground for fighters now turned into a global joke.
The ridicule wasn’t limited to Heaven’s Arena—audiences worldwide felt like they’d been played.
But enraged spectators wouldn’t admit to being fooled. To prove they still had their pride, they unleashed relentless mockery upon Heaven’s Arena.
The pressure faced by the Arena was now beyond “waves of outrage.” It was more akin to a cataclysm.
As for the protagonists of this debacle, Uvogin and Nobunaga, they didn’t care at all.
Coming from Meteor City, they always saw themselves as thieves, living outside mainstream values.
Regarding Heaven’s Arena’s likely retaliation and pursuit, both remained calm.
Uvogin, however, showed a hint of excitement.
He found the current floor masters lacking in strength but wondered if the Nen users sent to hunt them down might pose a real challenge.
As for the so-called "honor of fighters"... what was that? Could it be eaten? Could it be chopped up?
To them, "honor" wasn’t worth as much as the black rice they used to survive in Meteor City.
Meanwhile, Machi appeared uncharacteristically pleased.
Especially as the match began and she watched the betting odds skyrocket for "Uvogin and Nobunaga both absent from the fight."
Her eyes gleamed brighter and brighter.
There was no need to ask—she had clearly placed a heavy bet on that outcome.
This was a classic case of “the house always wins,” except this time, she was the hidden bookmaker.
From the current perspective, her plan was working flawlessly.
"We should leave now. If Heaven’s Arena notices something’s wrong, we won’t be able to get out," Machi said, her mood so good that her tone carried a rare warmth.
Uvogin and Nobunaga both looked at her.
"I get the feeling you’re, hmm..."
Uvogin, never the best with words, struggled to come up with the right expression.
"Milking the last bit of value out of us," Nobunaga, slightly more articulate, filled in, sounding slightly annoyed.
"What else?"
Machi didn’t bother denying it. "As long as I can make money, nothing else matters."
"Even if it means using your comrades as pawns?"
Uvogin asked bluntly.
"As long as you’re still breathing, it’s fair game," Machi replied with an eye-roll. "To me, all of you are clearly labeled commodities."
Uvogin: "..." That was a dumb question on my part.
Nobunaga: "..." Typical Machi.
"Alright, stop dragging your feet. If we don’t leave soon, we’ll miss our flight. Being late wouldn’t look good," Machi urged.
"We won’t be late!"
Uvogin, known for his punctuality within the troupe, took this seriously.
"I’ll make sure we arrive early, and more importantly..."
He suddenly grinned. "Earlier than Morin!"
“Morin, huh...”
Nobunaga stroked his mustache with one hand, the other resting on the hilt of his sword.
"I wonder how he’s doing now. Still using those tools of his? Or has he become even stronger?"
"But..."
Nobunaga murmured, "If you’ve grown stronger, so have we!"
His eyes glimmered with anticipation and fighting spirit.
Beside him, Uvogin radiated battle intent, his entire body burning with an intense desire to fight.
The mere mention of Morin’s name was enough to ignite their competitive spirits.
As for Machi, she simply rolled her eyes and stayed silent.
"Morin, huh. Just another commodity with a price tag."
"Though some of those weird tools of his would fetch a good price. Actually..."
Some tools, however, were priceless—items like the Gourmet Tablecloth or the Stick-On Door to Creation.
These tools, drawn during Morin’s earliest days, carried memories of him and Machi, making them irreplaceable treasures.
"Speaking of which, once the troupe gathers, I’ll need to return here to collect the betting winnings," Machi noted.
"But whether it’s the massive payout or the attention drawn to the winning bet, it’ll undoubtedly attract suspicion."
Most people had bet on other outcomes, while Machi had staked everything on the one option no one believed in.
And she won, reaping massive profits.
This wasn’t just a simple gamble—it would look highly suspicious to anyone.
Heaven’s Arena, humiliated as it was, would definitely scrutinize the bets closely for clues.
In collaboration with the gambling house—who’d hate to lose so much money—they’d work together to track down the winners.
If Machi’s identity as a winner came to light, she would undoubtedly fall under their radar.
Gambling houses would rather all the winners died so they could pocket the money themselves.
"When the time comes to collect the winnings, there’s bound to be trouble," Machi mused. Her sharp mind was already calculating.
"Maybe I should ask Morin once the troupe gathers. See if he has any tools to block Heaven’s Arena’s attention."
If there is, that would be perfect—I’ll just borrow it.
"Hmm, come to think of it, I should’ve asked Morin before placing the bet to see if he had any tools for hiding identities or staying unnoticed. What a misstep."
"Oh well, it’s already done. I’ll deal with it later."
Machi walked along the roadside, glancing up at the vast sky.
"As expected, whenever I run into trouble, I always end up thinking of you. Or rather..."
She stared at the clouds drifting across the horizon, their shape and movement faintly reminiscent of Morin, whose figure once again surfaced in her mind after so long.
"How have you been these past years? Have you... grown stronger again?"
Whoosh!
A plane soared across the sky, cutting through the clouds and brushing past someone’s lingering thoughts.
The Phantom Troupe’s meeting location this time was a coastal city named Vambaloti, located on the far western edge of the Sixth Continent, Ejene.
This city thrived along the coast, boasting breathtaking beaches and scenic ocean views, making it one of the world’s top destinations for beach and sunshine vacations.
In addition to its natural beauty, the city’s geographical position was highly advantageous, with sunny and harmonious weather year-round.
The surrounding ocean was free from strong currents, and its waters were teeming with abundant marine resources.
This idyllic climate gave rise to a thriving, vibrant city bursting with life.
Tourism, fishing, and marine industries had all flourished, transforming the city into a shining jewel of the Ejene Continent and establishing it as a landmark destination.
It was comparable to Yorknew City on the Yorbian Continent.
