Peace reined throughout Violet's life following her Nen fight debut.

Heaven's Arena staff focused heavily on legal concerns following the bout. They cleared Violet of all responsibility in Toyama's death and paid in the form of exceptional medical access, and allowed her to go longer between fights without losing access to her room. The battle dome's care and consideration washed away any lingering fears about imprisonment.

Thanks to her win on the floor one-hundred and fifty, Violet received earnings and a considerable room upgrade. She possessed a spacious, well-decorated studio apartment with higher-quality furniture and an improved washroom on the one-hundred-and-sixty-third floor.

Upon entry, a kitchenette met her on the left-hand side with a glorious set of picture windows across the room. It possessed a large sitting area between the kitchen and walk-out balcony and was diagonal from where the bed sat in the right corner across from the washroom. Although only one room, it was easily the size of a two-bedroom apartment. Since moving to the new space, she understood why people would fight like starving dogs over a piece of meat to stay high in the rankings.

But it wasn't a permanent life option for Violet. Freedom and the allure of roaming bellowed too strong within her soul to be tied down. Her living situation worked well for the moment and allowed her to relax. Getting home was high on her priority list and not at all forgotten. Despite her more adventurous side wanting to explore the world, she had formulated a plan. Speaking with other residents and fighters alike, she learned more about the professional hunter organisation and worked through the floors to save funds to hire their services.

Still, I hope I'll get the opportunity to explore a little, at least, Violet thought as she conquered the stairs on her way to the next floor. A fight was happening soon, and she wanted to watch from one of the hallway viewing zones where the monitors were largest. It's truly a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to be spirited away to a new world. I'm oddly drawn to it more than fearful. Not to mention the improved health and healing. That I still cannot understand.

Beyond exceptional health and lack of fatigue, most of her anxiety, held for valid reasons she refused to dwell upon, had dissipated.

I will not plague myself with remembering those events. They won't help me find a way home or explain why I'm healing so quickly. Pushing the metal door outwards, she stepped onto the hundred and seventieth floor. Keeping her pace, she dodged people moving in all directions on her way to the open alcove in the middle of the floor. Is it because my Nen skills are improving? No, there's far more to it, but I'd rather not poke at a good thing.

Violet imagined being in a place she didn't belong would have detrimental effects, but it was like breathing fresh spring air every day. Energy, health, and much of her drive had returned.

The allure of a venture caught her attention, and self-control disappeared instantly. She veered towards an ice cream stand, her sweet tooth craving the cool product. Waiting in line, she recalled the few casual meetings with Gon and Killua. They invited her to watch some of their fights. Friendship was not something she had ever been lucky enough to experience before. She attempted it with a college name Samantha Walker in her last job, but previous experiences ended things quickly.

Urgh! Why do you keep coming back to that? Be thankful for your escape and leave the past in the past and move on with your life!

The age gap between herself and the preteen boys forced a distance. She happily supported the youths in their bouts. But maternal instincts prevented her from easily saying no to the boys—a fact Killua noticed promptly.

But maybe it would be okay. Our friendship is good and healthy. There is no harm, and they're nice boys.

After the fight with Toyama, they checked on her and kept close contact until she recovered. Killua, in particular, provided some wisdom about her loss of control, and it helped her come to terms with it.

All she could do was learn from it and move forward. However, something deep down nagged her that it was more than a loss of control and to be wary. It was as if something had begun, and she worried about it in the quiet hours of the night when the only company was herself and dark thoughts.

Violet was self-conscious about needing help from a twelve-year-old boy. However, when she learned about his tragic past as a member of the most prominent family of assassins in all Five Nations, it made a little more sense why a boy would have the experience of an adult with such a dark history. Pity was not something Violet offered the white-haired child, and his respect for her grew since.

It's fair. I don't want to be pitied for my past, either. I'll never understand what your family put you through. Violet shook her head while the attendant scooped her chilled ice cream. Making a child kill at such a young age. He's handling that far better than I would.

They surpassed Violet on the floors while she healed.

I won't be joining them on the top levels, though. Once I complete the hundred and ninetieth floor, I'll disappear. Violet accepted her ice cream with a smile and immediately tasted the swirling combination of mint and chocolate. Turning, she headed back for the alcove to find a spot with a good view of the monitors.

Tonight was about something completely different. It was the fight between Hisoka and an opponent named Kastro.

Killua invited Violet to attend the fight inside the stadium with him when Gon acted foolishly while atop the two-hundredth floor leading to a broken arm. Apparently, their Nen teacher was no pushover and essentially grounded the child from watching any fight for a time. However, when Killua had offered her the spare ticket a few hours ago, she flashed her own, an unwanted gift courtesy of Hisoka.

With no intention of physically attending, both had to scalp their tickets. She hardly believed how much enthusiasm there was around a Hisoka fight. The ticket went for nearly the same earnings as three of her fights.

It's insane how much people will toss away for a fight. Hisoka is so creepy. Why spend your life's savings to see his fight?

The air was full of anticipation and a contained excitement that could burst at any moment. Careful not to let any drips of precious minty icy sweet fall, she found a perfect position between two of nine large monitors. People were shuffled closely, readying themselves for the action.

The fight was due to start any minute, and the announcer, Kokko, was speaking and hyping everyone more, if possible. Kastro was also a popular fighter.

I cannot understand why? He seems so uptight and one of those foolish black and white people. Good and evil. Violet pushed a puff of air between her lips before taking another lick of ice cream. What a foolish notion. Life is shades of grey. Good and evil don't exist.

Kokko explained to everyone that the two gladiators had met in the ring before, with Hisoka winning. One detail that had come to light, the magician had never lost a fight he bothered to show for and usually killed his opponents. Kastro was the only one ever allowed to walk away alive.

And you want to fight this guy Gon? Curse your stubborn nature.

The crowd around the monitors thickened along with their exhilaration just as the fight started. Hisoka entered with nonchalant confidence. Kastro had determination in his eyes, which Violet understood. The magician acted like his opponent had done little to improve in the two years since their last match. He hardly spared the man any attention, almost disappointed.

As the fight progressed, Hisoka continued to take hit after punch and was bloodied without returning a single assault from Kastro. People murmured about him having met his match, but she wasn't so convinced. The psychopath's eyes showed split-second calculations as the other man attacked.

He's trying to figure out the trick to Kastro. Be careful, Kastro; you're walking into that spider's web; watch your step. In Violet's opinion, it was still anyone's game. Her ice cream began melting from neglect as the screens drew her attention away.

Then it happened. Kastro's big move and, like the insane fighter he was, Hisoka didn't even defend.

Kastro exchanged words, and Hisoka offered his arm for the other fighter to attack. Trying to throw the magician off his game, Kastro attacked the opposite arm to the one Hisoka presented. Following Kastro's attack, his amber eyes widened for a split second, but he showed no more than a moment's pain in the form of a small grunt. Violet gasped along with the other onlookers when the dust settled, revealing Hisoka's arm severed halfway through the radial bone.

Seriously, Hisoka?

Brows knitted, Violet fought to understand Hisoka's fighting strategy while he continued to play with the separated arm, tossing it about like the perfect showman. He switched to a more sadistic nature and brought the severed stump to his face and took a bite of his serrated flesh, ripping it off and eating it.

Oh, God. You really are a wild card, aren't you, Hisoka?

Although Kastro seemed unfazed, there was an immediate, visceral effect on the crowd, which rumbled with shock and disgust.

Violet hummed. He's trying to throw Kastro off his game. But is there more to it? Certainly, he's chipping away at him, but it seems like Hisoka is up to something more. He's too stationary, too relaxed.

Then, the people surrounding her overboiled with excitement, and she discovered why these fights were so popular. Hisoka held his severed arm as he gave the crowd a full and bloody magic show, asking them to pick a card number for the trick.

"What?" Violet shook her head again and furrowed her brows in disbelief. "You're missing an arm and bleeding out, Hisoka."

With a deep sigh, her face relaxed, and rolling eyes replaced the frown. As he went through the card trick, others were confused, but Violet understood it; to a degree. Not the trick itself but the general tactic.

Misdirection. That's what all magic shows are about. That's your fighting style, isn't it, Hisoka Marou? But what is it you're trying to keep our attention from?

When he reached deep inside the severed stump of his arm and pulled out the ace of spades, Violet's hand covered her face. She shielded her eyes, rather than her mouth like those around her, then slowly shook her head with vicarious embarrassment.

"Hisoka..."

It was overwhelming, and she needed a quick break to calm her emotions. She moved towards a nearby bin to toss away the neglected, melting ice cream. As she was about to return her attention to the monitors, a scent caught her full attention, one she hadn't detected in several months. A deathly chill invaded her body down to the smallest fibre of her being. She looked around and started backing outside the crowd. Instincts and her senses screamed in red alert.

The instinct vanished as if the threat of death never existed. But Violet trusted her intuition and would not ignore it. Carefully, she followed intuition's direction and stood before the elevators leading to the upper floors. Stepping inside, she pressed the button to ascend.

I need to investigate this, but I hope to God I'm wrong.