"So, this is the way now?"
The passage below was about three meters wide and branched off in multiple directions.
"If I didn't have this guiding arrow, I definitely would've taken a wrong turn and ended up stuck somewhere…
Wait—what's that?"
As I followed the dotted line, I came upon a sudden fork in the path.
The white trail — the original one — continued forward along the corridor.
But a new yellow line had split off, cutting into the wall at an angle.
"That's strange…
On one hand, I've got a guaranteed shortcut to the end of Phase Two.
On the other… something unknown and mysterious.
Hmm… alright, I'll check it out for a minute.
I do need to understand more about my ability's functions, right?"
I stepped up to the yellow line as it vanished into the wall — and reached out.
My hand passed right through.
"A hologram? No, not quite.
More like a Nen-based illusion wall?"
I walked through without resistance, following the yellow trail deeper into the unknown.
______________________________
"Hee-hee-hee! That's how you do it — turn something boring into a game!"
The man laughed heartily, his voice echoing in the control room as he monitored multiple screens — each showing different Hunter Exam participants in real time.
By Hunter Association protocol, invitations for the position of Examiner were sent out exactly one month prior to the start of the main exam.
Each candidate had a one-week grace period to formally decline.
It was a formality — designed for inactive Hunters who might be away, busy, or off-grid for a while.
Most Hunters who didn't want to be examiners would send in a refusal almost immediately.
That's why a failsafe was in place:
If no candidate accepted the role within the first three weeks, an inactive Hunter would be automatically assigned as an examiner — like it or not.
It was a transparent, practical, and relatively fair system…
Until Pariston became Vice-Chairman of the Hunter Association.
That's when all hell broke loose.
He brought chaos.
He brought bureaucracy — the devil's invention — into our operations.
Now, even the simplest interaction required a mountain of paperwork.
Any criticism of him had to be run through "humanitarian review cycles," filters of "political correctness," and endless red tape — in short: censorship.
And all that paperwork?
He'd just toss it straight into the shredder without reading a single line.
Everything his hand touched turned upside down — especially the Hunter Exam, the core tradition of our Association.
There used to be a list of people who wanted to be examiners.
People like me — who took pride in training and evaluating the next generation.
I'm not the most sociable guy — kind of an introvert — but even I had built bonds with others like me.
People I could call friends.
Biscuit, Morou, the Zodiacs and more others…
Extraordinary individuals who believed in nurturing talent.
Some were also leaders of private teams or representatives of elite organizations looking to recruit promising rookies.
It was a system that worked —
the key word being: was.
These days, examiners are chosen entirely at random.
All in the name of "eliminating favoritism and restoring transparency."
Never mind the fact that this system insulted and cast aside people like him — veterans who wanted to nurture fresh blood.
Now it had also pushed away established groups and promising organizations from participating altogether.
As if that weren't enough, Pariston had the nerve to grind salt into wounds he'd inflicted himself — with a generous smile, no less.
Even if you stood in front of him and refused on the spot, he'd just flash that radiant, insufferable grin and say,
"Take your time to think it over."
He found clever ways to weaponize existing rules — like the one-week response window for declining an examiner invite.
And trying to beat a natural-born politician like him in an argument?
Forget it. He'll just pin your written refusal on a corkboard behind his desk,
waiting "until you change your mind."
Because of the forced appointment rule, even if the first three chosen Hunters refuse, the fourth one must accept the role.
Doesn't matter whether they want it or not.
Naturally, the overall quality of the exams has dropped significantly.
Just look at the examiner for Phase One.
Unlike me — who was lucky enough to be assigned two weeks in advance — she got hit with the fourth slot.
By all metrics, and given the pressure she was under, she actually did pretty well.
But the trial itself turned out sloppy and unpolished.
Not to mention the blatant clues, and how she outright explained the pass conditions —
Sure, the test technically measured the examinees' abilities…
But the point of every exam before this wasn't just to cull the weak or weed out numbers.
It was to push participants beyond their limits —
To give them a challenge that wouldn't just test them, but elevate them.
Where the training itself was the true reward — not just qualification for the next stage.
Even just thinking about it…
Made my chest burn with anger —
a boiling hatred aimed squarely at Pariston.
I tried to drown the bad mood with a mug of sweet coffee…
And nearly jumped out of my skin when a voice suddenly spoke up behind me:
"Whoa — is this the control room?"