After training, Conrad returned to his room, his muscles still carrying the faint tremor of continuous teleportation.

  The moment he stepped inside, his phone rang.

  He gnced at the screen.

  Adarte.

  “What is it?” Conrad asked calmly as he answered.

  “Anisa is calling us for some drinks at the cocktail bar in Heavens Arena."

  Adarte replied,.

  “Would you like to come?”

  Conrad paused for a brief moment.

  “It’s okay. I’ll come in ten minutes. I need to take a shower.”

  -

  Note

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  "Alright."

  Adarte said before ending the call.

  Conrad pced the phone down and walked toward the bathroom.

  As he stood under the stream,

  "Power was not only in strength, but in what others did not know," he said to himself.

  He finished, changed into clean clothes, and made his way to the cocktail bar.

  The cocktail bar of Heavens Arena was exclusive.

  Only VIP members who subscribed to the Arena and fighters above the hundredth floor could enter.

  Conversations were rare between strangers; most people there already knew each other or had business to discuss.

  The two-hundredth-floor fighters were allowed three or four drinks per day without payment, a small luxury granted for their value.

  Conrad entered quietly and located Anisa and Adarte seated at a corner table.

  He approached without hurry.

  He looked at Anisa and smiled faintly.

  “You look better.”

  Anisa returned the smile, though there was still fatigue behind her eyes.

  “I’ve been better,” she admitted.

  “Thank you for helping me get to the medical team.”

  “That was just common help,” Conrad replied. “Nothing much.”

  He sat down.

  Adarte ordered one of the stronger cocktails without hesitation.

  Conrad ordered a Margarita, his favorite back on Earth and now in this world as well.

  Some habits were difficult to abandon.

  When the drinks arrived, Conrad took a slow breath before taking a sip.

  The cold citrus bitterness settled his senses.

  He listened to Adarte and Anisa talk, not interrupting, not showing much reaction.

  After a moment, Conrad spoke.

  “So, any news from Heavens Arena?”

  Anisa shrugged slightly.

  “Nothing much. They thanked us and said they made the area more protective and better secured for fighters. They emphasized that it was important.”

  “That’s good,” Conrad said evenly. “I thought they might not like the commotion.”

  Adarte let out a short ugh.

  “They probably expected some noise. In the end, we took down a whole mafia group. I killed more than seventy, maybe a hundred of them.”

  Anisa gnced at him.

  “You’re counting?”

  “I stopped after seventy,” Adarte replied casually. “After that, it became messy.”

  Conrad remained silent for a few seconds.

  He understood that some of the nen users have no problem discussing their nen abilities, but Conrad preferred not to discuss what he is capable of in most cases.

  Even allies did not need full understanding. In this world, today’s ally could become tomorrow’s rival.

  He had learned that long ago.

  Instead, he shifted the topic slightly.

  “What about Maxwell’s aftermath?” Conrad asked calmly.

  “Any retaliation expected?”

  Anisa shook her head.

  “From what I heard, that Herivo Mafia family was already isoted. Other Mafia families won’t risk direct confrontation with Heavens Arena. Especially after what happened.”

  "At the same time, it is known that, with the Herivo family destroyed, many other families will have their chance to get what they have and set pces they can operate in the city."

  "So, it was good for them."

  Adarte nodded and added.

  “Also, they are not fools. They’re smart enough to stay quiet.”

  Conrad took another sip of his margarita.

  Around them, other fighters ughed; some discussed upcoming matches, others whispered about betting odds.

  Violence and entertainment blended together in a cycle that fed itself.

  Anisa leaned back slightly.

  “Still, we should be careful. Even if they don’t move openly.”

  “We always are,” Conrad replied.

  He did not boast.

  He did not describe how he moved in battle.

  He did not reveal how he positioned himself or how he analyzed the field. That knowledge stayed locked behind calm eyes.

  Adarte raised his gss. “To survival.”

  Anisa raised hers as well.

  Conrad lifted his margarita and lightly tapped it against theirs.

  “To survival.”

  The gsses clinked softly.

  For the rest of the evening, the conversation remained light, with small remarks about matches, minor injuries, and betting rumors.

  Conrad contributed when necessary, listened when appropriate, and revealed nothing beyond what was expected.