Chương 90: Fifty-Seven

After leaving the venue with Neon in his arms, Aren casually handed his ticket to a nearby attendant. The woman had already brightened when she saw him come out. After receiving his ticket, her eyes shone even more.

"Please come this way." Her voice became unusually gentle. Aren naturally returned a polite smile. Only Neon narrowed her eyes at the attendant with obvious displeasure. As the woman led Aren to the elevator, she glanced at Neon, who did not look friendly, and tested the waters.

"Sir, you even brought this child to Heavens Arena. You really are responsible." Before Aren could say anything, Neon immediately refuted her.

"Master is not Neon's brother. Master is Neon's master." Unexpectedly, Neon's words gave the attendant another opening. She looked at Aren with an expression of admiration.

"So you have already become someone's master at such a young age. That is amazing." Then she stared at him with sparkling eyes. Aren scratched his head awkwardly.

"Ding." Fortunately, the elevator arrived before the woman could continue. According to procedure, she had to explain Heavens Arena's basic system to him, so she swallowed what she wanted to say. After they entered the elevator, the woman began the explanation.

"In this building, floors below the two-hundredth are grouped by rank."

"If you lose, you may be dropped to a lower floor. Of course, with your strength, sir, I believe defeat is impossible."

"Also, after passing the hundredth floor, contestants receive private rooms. When that time comes, if there is anything uncomfortable about your room, you may come find me." As she spoke, her cheeks flushed slightly, and she winked at Aren, making another move.

"Ah, hahaha. Sure. If I get the chance." Aren could only answer stiffly.

"Ding." The elevator arrived just in time. Aren stepped out immediately and waved back at her.

"Uh, thank you for the explanation. Goodbye." Then he carried Neon away without looking back, following the signs toward the payout counter. Behind him, the attendant continued speaking before the elevator doors closed.

"It was my honor to serve you. My employee number is G63. Please remember it." After the elevator doors closed behind him, Aren finally breathed out. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"Are all Heavens Arena staff this enthusiastic? Is it because they usually serve so many strange-looking fighters and rarely meet someone normal?"

"Master, Neon doesn't like that sister. So Master isn't allowed to look for her." Neon tugged at his sleeve, looking displeased.

"Don't worry. Master won't go find her." As they spoke, Aren reached the payout counter. Perhaps someone had already sent word ahead. The staff member inside spoke as soon as he arrived.

"Welcome. Are you Mr. Aren Voss? Please place your ticket here." Aren slid the ticket through the small opening beneath the glass. The staff member took it, entered something into the computer, and placed an envelope on the counter.

"This is your prize money for the first floor. Please confirm the amount."

"Thanks." Aren poured the money from the envelope into his palm. One hundred fifty-two Jenny. Then he looked at the vending machine nearby, where every can of juice cost two hundred fifty Jenny. So the 152 Jenny would go straight back into Heavens Arena's pocket. He bought a can of orange juice and handed it to Neon.

"Here. Drink this." Neon took a sip, stuck out her little tongue, and complained, "It doesn't taste as good as what Master makes."

"Then forget it. Throw it away." Aren was indifferent. The can was probably less than five percent actual juice. It could not compare with the pure juice he created. He tossed it into the trash can beside the vending machine. What a nice little racket. Just as Aren followed the signs and prepared to enter the contestants' lounge, a staff member stopped him with an awkward expression.

"Excuse me, contestant. I'm very sorry, but family members are not allowed inside." The staff member glanced at Neon in Aren's arms.

"Fine. It should be my turn soon anyway. We'll wait outside for a while." Aren did not mind. Neon was young, but she was still a family member. If every contestant brought one relative inside, the lounge would become a mess.

"Contestant 2042, Mr. Aren Voss, and contestant 1953, Mr. Tulls, please proceed to Ring B on the fifty-seventh floor." As expected, the announcement came soon. Aren shrugged and carried Neon toward the elevator. Neon lay over his shoulder and made a face at the staff member from earlier. The fifty-seventh floor's venue was much more polished than the first floor's simple hall. The overall area was smaller, but there was only one ring, a dedicated commentator, and a large display screen.

"All right, everyone. Thank you for waiting." The Heavens Arena commentator's passionate voice rang through the venue. After briefly introducing both contestants, the screen began showing footage of their previous matches so spectators could judge their bets. Tulls had climbed floor by floor normally. When Aren's replay appeared... Splat. On the screen, Aren slapped the bald fat man's head apart as casually as swatting a fly.

The commentator had clearly watched the video already, but when the scene played in front of the audience, she still paused.

"..."

"What the hell? Where did this monster come from?"

"No need to think. Pick him. He wins for sure."

"This guy is savage. He really blew that head apart."

"Insane." After a short silence, the entire venue boiled again. Only Aren's opponent, Tulls, stared at the refined-looking young man in terror. He did not know how strong the bald fat man had been. But the hardness of a human skull was enough for him to understand that he could not beat someone who shattered one with a casual slap. As for the betting segment, it became a formality. Anyone with a brain knew who to choose. In the end, Aren's payout was only 1. 01. Tulls, meanwhile, reached 100.

That was Heavens Arena for you. It was clearly using Tulls's enormous odds to tempt gamblers. Once the odds appeared, the referee stepped forward at the right time.

"Begin." The moment the referee gave the signal, Tulls dropped to his knees with a thud.

"I surrender. I surrender." Looking at Tulls's terrified face, Aren did not know what to say. He had not planned to kill the man. The only reason he killed the bald fat man earlier was that the man's tone had irritated him. Tulls had done nothing to offend him. Aren was not a murderer who killed purely for fun. Every person he killed had a reason. That explanation, however, would be useless to outsiders. To them, killing someone because he disliked their attitude was already more than terrifying enough.

"It appears contestant Tulls has reached his conclusion." The commentator quickly recovered and began improvising wildly.

"In that brief instant, he must have performed countless battle simulations in his mind. After discovering that none could defeat contestant Aren Voss, he accepted the result with dignity and bowed out honorably."

"Let us congratulate contestant Aren Voss on another victory." Because Tulls surrendered so decisively, the commentator had no real fight to narrate. She could only make things up on the spot. By the end, even Tulls himself almost believed he had done something impressive. Not all spectators bought it. Especially the small group of gamblers who had bet on Tulls. They could not accept this kind of defeat. At least throw one punch.

"Damn it! Refund!" Some gambler who had lost control suddenly stood up and shouted. Several others who had bet on Tulls stood with him.

"Tulls, you idiot."

"How could you do this to us?"

"I'm so disappointed." Their curses echoed through the arena.