Chapter 38: Haunted Clothing

As Eternity clashes against his opponent’s blade, Auren can’t help but smile in excitement.The impact rings out in a sharp, metallic echo that reverberates through the Arena. The audience is utterly silent—every pair of eyes locked on the stage, every spectator holding their breath.

Auren doesn’t hesitate. He immediately follows up with a flurry of precise strikes. His opponent manages to parry with skill, using his katana to deflect each blow, but the strain is already beginning to show on his face.

Eventually, the man counterattacks, forcing Auren into a defensive stance.

Auren blocks every strike—but doesn’t retreat an inch. His technique is more than sufficient to neutralize the incoming attacks.

Then, with perfect timing, Auren lets his Aura flare up slightly. Using Ryu, he shifts most of his Aura into Eternity. His opponent, realizing the incoming strike, notices this and looks slightly panicked, not expecting such a large amount of Aura. Unable to confront his attack directly, he leaps back, avoiding the attack—but Auren doesn’t slash normally. He uses Emission, and the moment his sword moves, a wave of energy cuts forward.

A long, clean gash appears across his opponent’s chest, despite the distance. His white-blue clothes, now ripped and torn, quickly turn bloody from the injury.

“Critical hit! 2-0 for Auren!” the Referee announces loudly.

“Incredible! How is this possible? Auren somehow managed to extend the range of his sword—no, it’s more like his slash flew toward his opponent! The Referee declares it a Critical Hit! An invisible blade cutting into his foe—what kind of mysterious technique is that?!” the female announcer shouts in excitement, igniting a wild reaction from the crowd.

Auren raises Eternity vertically, letting the Arena’s lights reflect off its immaculate surface. With a grin, he inspects the blade—not a chip, not even the faintest mark.

Then he looks at his opponent’s weapon. It’s heavily damaged—several small chips along the edge, and one massive one nearly a fifth of the blade’s depth.

The Referee waves his hand. “Continue!”

Smirking, Auren unleashes more ranged slashes, hiding them with In.

His opponent, now on high alert, tries his best to block, but still takes several hits in the process, more bloody cuts appearing on his body.

“Three clean hits! 5-0 Auren! Participant Keita, I can’t let you keep taking damage like this!” the Referee says with visible concern, his eyes scanning the numerous cuts across Keita’s body.

The crowd buzzes with energy, but boos ripple through the audience at the Referee’s call—unhappy with what they perceive as interference.

“Oh! It looks like the Referee isn’t pleased with Keita’s performance! He’s giving away points like candy! Three clean hits? The crowd’s not liking this judgment one bit! Participant Keita better rethink his strategy, or this match won’t last much longer!” the moderator shouts, matching the energy of the frustrated fans.

This guy can’t activate Gyo fast enough to catch my In-slashes. They’re too fast. He can’t see them coming and react in time. If he can’t keep up, he has to guess… That’s the problem. He’s never faced someone who uses rapid attacks combined with In before.

Auren starts mixing in feints—three for every genuine strike. His opponent dashes toward the ring’s edge, his body now covered in fresh wounds.

Despite landing more hits, the Referee awards only two additional points—likely hesitant to end the match too soon, worried about seeming biased and upsetting the already emotional crowd.

Auren slowly closes the distance, now just two points away from victory.

But then he halts. His opponent suddenly spikes his Aura—concentrating it all into his blade.

Auren, not wanting to take chances with his opponent’s desperate gamble, fires more slashes from range and avoids closing the gap.

Keita, running on pure instinct, his body losing more and more blood, finally snaps.

He lets out a scream and rushes forward in a wild charge, raising his katana for a desperate overhead strike. Auren doesn’t have time to dodge. He channels most of his Aura into Eternity and braces himself.

Their swords clash with a powerful crash. Auren is forced to maintain his full Aura flow into his weapon—any diversion would mean losing the clash immediately.

Then, with cold precision, Auren slips his left hand off the hilt—giving his opponent a brief advantage. Keita’s grin widens as he senses victory, pushing down harder, trying to force Auren to give in.

Auren, looking unbothered, swiftly reaches into his pocket with his now free hand. With practiced ease, he pulls out his favorite Ben’s Knife—No. 223.

In a fluid motion, he drives it into Keita’s chest. The other fighter’s expression twists from triumph into sheer horror and agony. His Aura flickers out, his Ren, no longer active. Auren calmly shoves Eternity forward, gently shoving Keita backward. As the man falls, Auren keeps hold of No. 223, letting the blade slide cleanly from the wound. Keita slowly falls onto his back, unable to even move. The ground under him is immediately covered in blood.

That’s enough. No reason to go further.

“CRITICAL HIT and DOWN! GET HIM OUT OF HERE NOW!” the Referee yells, waving both arms.

“This match is over! Unbelievable! Auren lured his opponent in, only to shatter his momentum in one brutal, precise counter! And look at that vicious-looking knife he’s holding! What a dramatic finish!” the announcer roars, as the Arena explodes into applause and excited shouting.

Immediately, a couple of employees arrive with a stretcher, quickly administering first aid to Keita before carrying him out of the Arena.

While the announcer continues to ramble excitedly, Auren calmly resheathes Eternity and slides his Ben’s Knife back into his pocket. Without a word, he walks offstage—once again ignoring the woman rushing toward him with a microphone by glaring at her until she stops in her tracks.

Suddenly, the Referee shouts, her voice echoing through the arena, “Participant Auren! You can’t keep avoiding these interviews! Don’t disappoint your fans—please answer a few questions!”

“Fans?!” Auren mutters, the mic close enough to catch his voice.

The crowd bursts into cheers and applause.

I probably shouldn’t be this antisocial…

“Just a few. Make it quick,” Auren says, glancing at the girl still holding the microphone.

“Uh, thank you! So… how are you feeling?” she asks, clearly nervous and unprepared.

The audience immediately erupts into boos, unimpressed by the generic question. The moderator who narrated the fight yells in frustration, “Give me one minute!”

She rushes out of her commentator’s cabin, running down the audience stand, then sprinting toward the stage—hopping over the barrier with such ease that it reveals her own remarkable physical conditioning.

As she reaches Auren, she snatches the microphone from the younger girl’s hands.

“Not bad. Are you a fighter yourself?” Auren asks, a little bit curious.

“Of course! Everyone working here is passionate about martial arts and has at least some training background. But Auren—I’m the one asking questions here,” she replies.

“Fine,” Auren says with a shrug.

“Everyone’s watching you. In such a short time, you’ve entered the 200 class and dominated every fight! You’re sitting at a 6-0 record! Tell us—who is Auren?”

...This girl.

“What do you want to know?” Auren asks, arms crossed.

“You’re so young, yet clearly accomplished in martial arts. How did you train? Are you part of some elite fighting school?”

“I’m a Hunter. This is just training for me. I was taught by a great swordsmaster—he passed away recently due to his age,” Auren replies plainly.

The audience claps, clearly impressed.

“A Pro Hunter at your age? You’re only twelve, according to our records! And your master’s sole successor? That’s like something straight out of a movie!”

“Is that all?” Auren asks, already turning away.

“No, wait—just one more!” she calls after him, seeing the look in his eyes. “Okay? One last question.”

“Fine.”

“What is your goal here in Heaven’s Arena?”

“I already said—I’m here to train myself.”

“No, I mean specific goals!”

“Obviously, I’m aiming to become a Floor Master. That’s the goal, isn’t it?”

The moderator spins back toward the crowd, voice raised in excitement. “Oh, you heard that, folks! Auren has set his sights on the top—he’s aiming to take down one of our Floor Masters! The only question is… who will it be?! Let’s talk about that more in a moment—”

She turns around.

But Auren is already gone.

Auren heads straight to the 200th class reception desk and signs up for his next fight, he then walks back to his room.

As he opens the door, Neffi greets him with a smirk. “Nice job. Once again, you didn’t reveal a thing. People might think you’re an Emitter now.”

“Who says I’m not?” Auren replies coolly.

“I would’ve guessed you were a Specialist… but seeing your physical feats, you’re probably an Enhancer—maybe one leaning toward Transmutation.”

Auren just shrugs.

“I’m a Manipulator, by the way,” Neffi says casually.

What’s she up to now?

Auren eyes her with clear skepticism.

“You don’t believe me? Watch this!” Suddenly, Neffi’s thin jacket lifts off her shoulders and floats through the air like a ghost.

It glides toward Auren, flying around his head, and then abruptly flies against his face.

“...Remove it,” Auren says in a cold voice, his tone calm but unmistakably irritated.

“Fine, fine. Your reaction was a little underwhelming,” Neffi says, slightly pouting.

“So… you can control your jacket? That’s… strange,” Auren remarks.

“Not just my jacket. I can control any piece of clothing I wear. I can also do more than simply control it! There are conditions, of course, but the applications are vast. It also incorporates Emission and Enhancement.”

“Why would you show me your ability?” Auren asks, clearly puzzled.

“It felt unfair. I know the kind of risk your Hatsu carries—if it ever gets exposed, you’d become the most wanted person on the planet. I just… felt like sharing mine, too,” she explains.

“That’s completely unnecessary,” Auren says, but as he sees her smile, he can’t help but add, “Still… I appreciate the sentiment.”

“How about dinner? Let’s eat out tonight. We can go to an expensive place, my treat,” Auren suggests.

“Just the usual place is fine. I hate those fancy places for rich people,” Neffi replies, though she still looks genuinely pleased. “So? What’s the occasion? Is this just to celebrate your win?”

Auren shakes his head. “To be honest, that fight wasn’t much of a challenge. I just thought it was time to talk about the future. Since you’re stuck with me for now, I figure you deserve to know what’s coming.”