Where I'm from, that meant ascending all the realms." His voice turned distant. "And I did. I was the strongest there. But... I wasn't satisfied. Not really. Something about how I got it—it didn't sit right."
He turned back to them, his eyes sharper now.
"But ever since I came to this world—this city—I've had one new desire." He smiled slightly.
"To be the strongest hero."
Iwaizumi looked stunned.
"That's... incredibly ambitious. Insane, even."
Gin let out a short, bitter laugh.
"I've been holding on to the thoughts—that's the only thing that keeps me going in K Pen, believe me. But no matter how hard I try… my heart still aches for that title. I guess the heart wants what it wants."
He stood, stretching lazily.
"Soon, I'll catch up to Prime. I just need to awaken first."
"I did see that on your profile—rivalry with Prime," Iwaizumi said as they neared the arena gates.
"You've seen Prime before?" he asked curiously.
Gin's eyes lit up with a grin. "Not in person. Only on TV… about seven years ago. Right before the last known A-rank dungeon appeared."
"Wait—you were watching that too?" Iwaizumi blinked.
"The moment I saw him," Gin chuckled, "I just knew. He'd be my rival someday."
A silence fell over the group. Tabaki and Iwaizumi exchanged a glance, unsure whether to laugh or be concerned.
"Sir Gin…" Iwaizumi said slowly, watching him.
"You really don't know, do you? About Prime's abilities?"
Gin shrugged, brows slightly furrowed. "I never really understood what Prime's abilities were, exactly… but I figured it wasn't anything too complicated. I mean—he could fly and hit things really hard, right?"
Iwaizumi's eyes lit up like a fanboy at a convention then coughed to regain himself. "Well, yeah! You'd be absolutely right—but that's just scratching the surface."
He leaned in slightly, excited now. "They say he doesn't even need a healer. His body heals at insane speed. That alone puts him in a league of his own. But on top of that—he's insanely durable, fast on land and in the air, super strength, insane reflexes… And he can create shockwaves with his attacks. Some think it's a special skill—others say it's just pure, overwhelming power."
Gin raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued.
"Thing is," Iwaizumi continued, "only people in the Hunter's Society have a real idea of what his full abilities are. Most of it's just speculation to the public. But one thing's for sure—because of him, people don't look at raids the same way anymore. He changed the entire standard of what a hunter should be."
"But why do you prefer Prime over the other heroes?" Gin asked, genuinely curious.
Iwaizumi didn't even hesitate. "Because of how he carries himself, sir. To be strong—you have to show others that it's possible. That those who look up to you, who aspire to be like you, can believe they have a chance. Even if they're weak now."
He paused, his expression hardening. "Thing is, there's a dark side to having a Pulse. The 'haves' and 'have-nots'... it's created this nasty culture of supremacy. Some people with Pulse think they're biologically superior. Like they were chosen."
Gin raised an eyebrow. Iwaizumi went on.
"But Prime flipped that whole ego trip on its head. He turned all the arrogance and negativity around Pulse into something... hopeful. Noble. He reminded people that being strong isn't just about having power—it's about how you use it."
Gin grinned, a glint in his eye. "Sounds like my instinct for picking good rivals hasn't failed me yet."
Tabaki, walking alongside them, smirked. "What a day… Oh, look—we're here."
They approached the massive arena, its towering walls buzzing with energy. This wasn't just any arena—it was a premier combat dome, designed to withstand high-level Pulse clashes. Giant banners waved above the entrance:
"Guild Showcase: Elite Pulse Fighter Demonstration – Today Only!"
Above them, a massive screen replayed a dramatic knockout move, the crowd's roar echoing through the district.
As Gin stared at the screen, Tabaki suddenly spoke up. "Oh—sir Gin. If you really want to understand Pulse, my dad has a book in his study. I've seen him reread it a few times."
Gin tilted his head. "A book?"
"Yeah, it's called Then Professor Hanazawa: The Call to the Wild. She's kind of a big deal. My dad always said she changed everything."
Gin gave a lazy shrug. "Not much for books. I like seeing things with my own eyes. But… I don't mind giving it a read."
Tabaki nodded. "Hanazawa came up with a theory… still being tested, but it's wild."
Gin raised an eyebrow. "What'd she say?"
"That Pulse doesn't just respond to danger—it responds to belief."
"Belief?"
"Yeah… I'm not really sure what it means either. Just— something buried deep in your bones, I guess. What you believe in, maybe. Like I said… it's all kind of theoretical."
Before Gin could ask more, his eyes drifted back to the screen. A slow-motion replay lit up — a Pulse fighter unleashing a shockwave mid-air, launching their opponent in a brilliant arc of light and force.
His grin widened.
This place... is going to be fun.
And somewhere in there — I'll find my answers.
Despite Iwaizumi's earlier reluctance, they scanned in through the main entrance, flashing their crumpled tickets. Tabaki held his up like a golden pass, beaming with excitement, while Gin leaned forward, eyes darting toward the other supposed lovers of the game streaming briskly through the corridors.
Security was tight.
Metal detectors. Pulse signal scanners. Identification checkpoints.
At the second checkpoint, a stern-faced woman holding a holopad stepped in front of them.
"Verification?"
Iwaizumi presented their ticket codes again, voice steady. "Civilians. No license."
The woman stared at them for a beat, then nodded. "Section C4. Upper left wing. You'll pass through three halls—follow the silver line. Don't stray. Don't talk to personnel unless approached."
"Understood," Iwaizumi said, taking the lead as the others fell in behind him.
But then the woman turned to Gin.
"Why are you smiling so much? It's annoying."
Gin just chuckled, clearly amused.
She groaned and waved them on. "Ugh. Just move along."
Cleared, they stepped into a glass corridor overlooking the central arena—a vast oval battleground encased beneath a transparent hexadome ceiling. Above, defense drones glided silently like silver fish through still water, their sensors sweeping for the slightest irregularity.
"Damn," Tabaki muttered, staring wide-eyed at the scale of the infrastructure. "They're not playing around."
As they made their way toward Section C4, they passed clusters of fans searching for their seats—some indifferent, others buzzing with nervous anticipation. A spirited group in Section C3 was already singing a fight song for their favorite pulse fighter, echoing faintly through the corridor.
Gin took it all in with wide eyes and a faint smile. The lights, the energy, the sheer scale—this was his kind of place. A stage. An atmosphere he could only dream of commanding.
Finally, they reached their section. The seats were staggered in tiers, offering a decent view of the battlefield—not close enough to catch any direct Pulse shockwaves, but near enough to feel the tension.
To their left sat a group of sharply dressed older men. Veterans, maybe. They weren't talking. Just sitting still, eyes fixed on the arena as if waiting for a familiar scent to rise from the dust.