Joey's debut battle on the 200th floor was scheduled for October 21st.
But what he hadn't expected—what no one had expected—was who his opponent would be.
"Today's match is a clash of newcomers, both of whom have taken the Sky Arena by storm!"
"Our first fighter, Joey, has risen from the bottom floor to the 200th in record time, winning each bout in a single move!"
"But his challenger? Even faster!"
"In just five days, he blazed through to the 200th floor—and on the very day of his arrival, signed up to fight Joey!"
"Let's welcome the unstoppable rookie, who—like Joey—defeated every opponent in one blow—RAZOR!"
The crowd exploded. Screams. Roars. People stomping their feet in tribal unison.
The announcer let the madness rise before leaning in again, voice rich with drama:
"This isn't a fluke. Razor earned his place. Every veteran who wanted to challenge Joey?
He beat them all."
"This match—it's not just a battle.
It's a collision of destiny!"
Joey stood off-stage, face blank as the voice thundered overhead.
Destiny? Bullshit.
I don't even know the guy!
No shared past. No conflict. No prior meeting.
Total strangers.
But Razor?
Razor was supposed to be on Greed Island.
Joey thought fast.
He remembered the banquet. André's dinner party.
The game staff had shown up—Razor hadn't, but Joey listened. Heard that Greed Island was shutting down.
The game was over.
The island was reverting.
The cards, the mechanics, the life it created? Fading.
Soon, it would be just another island.
Joey had overheard it all—whispers to Gon from a man named List.
And if Razor was here now, not on the island, then someone had sent him.
Kate?
Ging?
Most likely Ging.
When Joey stepped onto the stage and saw Razor—tall, stone-chiseled, hair spiked up like quills and a polite, permanent smile—he heard a single thought in his brain:
All squinty-eyed bastards are monsters.
The referee joined them, stepping between.
"Point-based knockout system. No time limit. Weapons allowed.
Match—BEGIN!"
The crowd erupted.
But neither fighter moved.
"So you recognized me." Razor's voice was calm. "Then let's fight.
If you can prove yourself in battle... maybe then I'll tell you why I'm here."
The man reeked of confidence. Not arrogance—assured certainty.
And he had reason to be.
Joey wasn't sure how Razor decided he was "recognized." Maybe a twitch. A blink.
Whatever. Let him think what he wants.
But this was a good reminder: Joey needed to start managing his facial expressions better. He couldn't afford to let people start talking about "future vision" nonsense.
Still, if Razor was here under Ging's orders, then this battle might be a test.
A test for something beyond this stage. Something tied to the Dark Continent.
Joey grinned.
Alright then. Let's beat that smug face in and see what he has to say.
Facing someone like Razor—a god-tier emitter, arguably the apex of his class—was exactly what Joey wanted.
Especially in a match with implied limits.
His aura flared.
The Weather Beast shimmered into existence, crouched on his shoulder like a summoned storm god.
Razor responded instantly—leaping back as a shimmering aura sphere appeared at his fingertips.
"Emitters dominate from mid to long range," Razor called. "Kate must've told you that.
But theory is one thing. Let's give you a real lesson."
The aura sphere lifted. Razor slapped it.
BANG—!
The orb rocketed forward.
Joey frowned.
Without Killer Queen or Gold Experience, his range was just 2 meters.
No long-range tricks. No remote attacks.
But that didn't mean Razor had a free hit.
Thunderclouds burst to life around Joey, forming a dense, humid shell. Raindrops began to fall. Pressure rose.
As Razor's aura orb entered his 2-meter zone, lightning crashed from above.
Slow it down. Trap it. Kill it.
Just before impact, Razor's hand clenched.
The orb, mid-flight, bloomed with violent color—a detonation primed inside.
Joey's eyes sharpened.
No time.
Wind tore beneath him, dragging him back just in time.
CRACK—BOOM!
Lightning struck. The orb exploded.
From his new vantage, Joey saw something worse:
More orbs.
A full row of them, floating behind Razor, glowing like demonic stars.
Razor smiled.
A gentle, calm smile.
But to Joey, it looked like the smirk of Satan himself.
Then—SWOOSH!
Razor's hand moved.
The orbs roared to life, slicing through air in arcing formation, like birds of prey diving for blood.
They weren't just flying.
They were steering.
Tracking him.
Remote-controlled.
I can't dodge them forever. I need to bring them close.
But Razor could make them explode mid-flight.
That first orb had a detonation radius of one meter.
These? Larger. Thicker. More lethal.
Joey's eyes narrowed.
He had an idea.
A risk. But better than playing catch with hand grenades.
His "En" changed.
He'd trained. Watched Neferpitou's asymmetrical En—how she extended it vertically when she sensed Gon from the sky.
Joey had practiced. Studied.
Now, he wasn't using a full sphere.
He was shaping his aura into a fan—a cone stretching forward, not all around.
That way, his radius expanded.
From 2 meters?
He could now reach over 3.5 in a straight line.
In that zone, the Weather Beast compressed air, creating heavy resistance.
The orbs hit the field—slowed, then struck by wind blades Joey conjured from the dense atmosphere.
BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!
Explosions lit up the arena, forcing the audience to recoil.
But—
DANGER.
Joey's instincts flared.
One of the coins in his back pocket—a hidden shrapnel marker—fired itself using aura. It collided with something invisible.
KA-BOOM!
An explosion detonated behind him.
Hidden aura balls.
In.
Silent.
Deadly.
The Weather Beast reacted—using air pressure to push back the blast—but Joey was still launched across the stage.
Mid-air, he saw them—glimmering orbs uncloaking in the sky like land mines.
BOOM.
BOOM.
BOOM!
More explosions. His En collapsed, pulled back tight to shield himself.
And Razor?
Razor hadn't moved. Not once.
Still smiling. Still standing.
"Did you think you could fight me with an unpolished ability?" he said softly.
"You underestimated me."
In his hand, a new orb formed. Bigger. Size of a volleyball. Humming with devastation.
He raised his palm to spike it—
And that's when it hit.
FIRE.
A blazing fist erupted beside him, knuckles engulfed in flame, screaming toward Razor's face like a meteor.