Child prodigy

Ikke stood on the floor of the Heavens Arena, his diminutive figure hardly a match for his towering opponent. The seven-and-a-half-year-old sized up Bulldog, his keen eyes scanning the man's muscular build. A smug grin adorned his face as he mentally formulated his strategy, assessing each muscle group to predict the man's likely movements.

He raised an eyebrow at Bulldog and taunted, "Gotta say, that's an impressive form you've got there. But I wonder, can you move as fast as you can flex?"

In the background, the commentator, a seasoned veteran of countless battles, took note of Ikke's demeanor. "Ladies and Gentlemen," he began, his voice resonating through the arena, "this young boy, Ikke, is no ordinary contestant. In just one week, he has climbed from the very first floor to the staggering 195th. His meteoric rise has led many to compare him to the infamous 'White Death', our second boy"

The crowd murmured in awe and anticipation as Ikke's opponent, a brawny man named Bulldog, stepped forward. Wearing his wrestler garb, his wild, grimacing face did indeed resemble a bulldog. He calmly looked down at Ikke, advising, "Kid, it's not too late to give up." He then turned to the audience, smiling widely and waving his hands, which were met with applause and cheers.

However, Ikke paid little heed to his opponent's words. As the bell rang, signalling the start of the match, Ikke noticed something peculiar. None of his opponents thus far had used aura, a crucial element of combat in this world. 'So, it's a closely guarded secret here,' he mused. Unfazed, he decided to use this to his advantage.

Bracing himself, Ikke began to channel his aura, the invisible force radiating from his body. 'Just a little more,' he thought, feeling the energy pool within him. With a sharp intake of breath, he concentrated his aura to his feet, the feeling like cold fire. 'Time to show them a real trick,' he smirked to himself. In an instant, he was a blur, darting towards Bulldog at a speed the burly wrestler could hardly anticipate.

Seeing the little boy rushing toward him, Bulldog was taken aback. 'What the...?' he thought, squinting his eyes to see through the blur. He barely had time to register the threat before Ikke was upon him.

In a fluid motion, Ikke swung his arm, channeling his aura into his fist. As he aimed for Bulldog's jaw, he thought, 'This one's for the win.' Just as he was about to land the hit, Ikke dispersed the aura concentrated at his fist, a shockwave of energy propelling his punch with increased momentum.

The sudden force knocked Bulldog off his feet. In the fleeting moment before darkness overcame him, his mind was a whirl of disbelief and confusion. 'How...?' was his last thought before losing consciousness.

The impact was immediate. Bulldog was sent sprawling, knocked out cold from Ikke's powerful strike. The crowd fell into stunned silence before erupting into a cacophony of cheers and applause. Ikke, the child prodigy of Heavens Arena, had won again.

Meanwhile, the commentator struggled to catch his breath, sharing the audience's shock and amazement. "Unbelievable!" he exclaimed, "What speed, what power! We've never seen anything like this! A seven-and-a-half-year-old kid has just knocked out Bulldog, one of our seasoned veterans! Truly, Ikke is a force to be reckoned with in Heavens Arena. What a prodigious talent!"

Meanwhile, Ikke stood in the center of the ring, panting slightly but wearing a victorious grin. He had proven yet again that age and size were no match for strategy and skill. As he basked in the applause and admiration from the spectators, he couldn't help but wonder what challenges awaited him next in this world.

Perched on the edge of his seat, seven-year-old Killua Zoldyck observed the fight with a level of focus uncommon for a child his age. A member of the infamous Zoldyck family, Killua was no stranger to combat, but this was different. There was something about the way this boy, Ikke, fought that piqued his curiosity.

Word had spread about a child prodigy tearing through the ranks of Heavens Arena, but watching Ikke in action was something else entirely. The way he maneuvered, the way he struck, it was unlike anything Killua had seen before. He didn't know what it was exactly, but there was something different about Ikke - something that intrigued Killua.

Bulldog was a behemoth of a man, muscles bulging from his wrestling garb, an image of raw power. In contrast, Ikke was just a child. Yet, the way he moved, it was like he was dancing around the brute. He was fast, incredibly so, and his movements were efficient and calculated. There was no wasted energy, every step, every punch, every dodge had a purpose.

Killua was puzzled as he watched Ikke strike Bulldog with a force that sent the grown man sprawling. He couldn't make sense of it - how could someone so small pack such a powerful punch? It was as if Ikke was able to push his body beyond its limits, maximising his strength and speed in a way Killua had never seen before.

A frown creased Killua's forehead as he leaned back in his seat. This was new, this was interesting. Ikke was a puzzle, a mystery that he wanted to solve. There was an underlying strength to Ikke, a hidden depth that Killua couldn't quite grasp yet. But he was determined to understand it.

His eyes remained fixed on Ikke, even as the crowd around him erupted into cheers. He was eager to see how far this kid could go, what other surprises he might have up his sleeve. Killua knew then, watching as Ikke basked in his victory, that this wouldn't be the last time their paths would cross.

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In the gloom of the shadow-laden room, an unease hung heavy, seeming to coat the very air. Sparse, dim lighting provided just enough illumination to make out the dark, imposing silhouette of a man at a desk - the boss. He was a figure of dread, an embodiment of authority and intimidation. The temperature of the room dropped several degrees in his presence, while the tension rose palpably.

A lone underling stood at the entrance, trying to suppress the tremors running through his body. His voice wavered as he gathered the courage to speak. "B-Boss... We've found him. The target... he's been located."

A chilling silence followed, as the room seemed to absorb his words, the shadows lengthening ominously. The single source of light in the room fell on a file that lay on the desk - "Monster" was written across it in bold, black letters.

Slowly, the man at the desk reached out to open the file, his movements smooth and deliberate. He did not look up at his subordinate, his gaze intent on the papers in front of him. The low hum of the air conditioning unit filled the unnerving silence, the only indication that time hadn't come to a standstill.

The boss's voice, when he finally spoke, was as frigid as the room. It sliced through the tension, each word resonating with an icy threat that sent chills down the subordinate's spine. "Good," he rasped, flipping through the file's contents. "Keep a close eye on him."

"Yes, Boss," the subordinate nodded hurriedly, his heart pounding. He felt a bead of cold sweat roll down his cheek. The boss's ruthless reputation was enough to make even the bravest men cower. He was a man to be feared, and those who dared cross him rarely lived to tell the tale.

With his task completed, the subordinate backed away, his departure barely acknowledged. The room fell back into silence, the cold presence of the boss the only thing lingering in the air. The subordinate left the room with a sigh of relief, glad to escape the suffocating atmosphere, while the boss continued his quiet scrutiny of the "Monster" file, a sinister gleam in his eyes.