This was it—the moment Hisoka had dreamed of, one of the battles he desired most. Finally, it could begin.
Facing the overwhelming aura of Chairman Netero, Hisoka didn't hesitate. He rushed forward without fear, thrilled at the chance to fight.
For Hisoka, as long as he could clash with someone strong, even death would be a joyful outcome.
Netero slowly raised his palm. The motion looked deliberate, exaggerated—like a scene drawn out in slow motion. But as the sole spectator, Aoyama knew for certain: his eyes were being deceived.
The instant Netero lifted his hand, the colossal Guanyin statue looming behind him opened its cold, unblinking eyes. They locked onto Hisoka's aura-drenched form, and with a flick of its fingers, it struck downward.
The Guanyin moved even before Netero's hand finished its gesture.
Which meant—
Aoyama realized his eyes could not be trusted. Just like fighting against a Uchiha in the shinobi world, one had to abandon the instinct to rely on sight.
Boom!
A single finger jabbed down, gouging a massive crater into the earth. It missed Hisoka, but forced him to retreat to a safer distance.
Netero pressed his hands together in a mudra. His form resembled an ancient Buddha, head bowed slightly, lips murmuring sutras. His Nen guided the Guanyin into even greater motion.
"Hyakushiki Kannon! First Form!"
Crash!
The moment the words left his lips, Guanyin's strike was already complete—faster than human perception. Its palm cleaved down like a divine axe, rending a deep ravine into the ground.
Hisoka was drenched in sweat, sprinting at full speed, never daring to enter Guanyin's range. Even a glance from Netero's eyes made his body seize with unease.
The gulf between them was overwhelming.
It was like a child wielding a knife, thinking he could stab a towering adult—only to be pinned down in an instant, nearly killed.
Aoyama could see it clearly: Hisoka's terror.
It wasn't that Hisoka lacked fear—far from it. Against another human, he could gamble with injury-for-injury, or twist the flow of combat with tricks and deceit.
But when the opponent was no longer a "man," but a Buddha towering above all, Hisoka's fighting spirit faltered. Before such divinity, all that remained was fear.
Netero's palms pressed together again.
"Second Form!"
The Guanyin's arms rose, poised to clap down upon Hisoka's position.
Hisoka's face twisted with horror. Death loomed—inescapable. There was no way to block it. No way to flee.
This will kill me.
Even Hisoka couldn't take Netero's Nen head-on.
At that critical instant, Aoyama flipped open his Monster Codex and invoked a name.
"Mothra!"
The fourth Titan emerged, vast enough to rival Guanyin itself.
Unfurling its dazzling wings, Mothra radiated ancient, mystical energy, glowing with runic patterns as its body pulsed with power.
Hisoka collapsed to the ground, gasping at his reprieve. Life felt so precious in that moment. Looking up, he was stunned into awe by Mothra's beauty.
"Has a god descended? So beautiful…"
But no one paid attention to Hisoka anymore.
With Mothra summoned, Aoyama finally had the capital to face Netero. He exhaled deeply, stripped off his upper garments, and began building up his power.
Netero pressed his hands together once more, recalling the Guanyin to stillness. Yet beneath that calm, the killing intent only sharpened, growing even more oppressive. Predators of the night scattered in terror.
Sensing the immense aura surging within Aoyama—stronger than Hisoka's—Netero waited patiently, intrigued.
Aoyama roared:
"The Eight Gates Released! First Gate—Open!"
"Second Gate—Open!"
"Third Gate—Open!"
"Fourth Gate—Open!"
"Fifth Gate—Open! Aaah!"
In a single burst, he opened five gates. Chakra surged tenfold through his body, erupting outward like a hurricane. Trees nearby were flattened by the shockwave.
To Netero's eyes—piercing, honed through decades—the chakra resembled a roaring flame. In an instant, Aoyama's energy multiplied several times over, blazing like a miniature sun.
The sudden rush of power nearly tore Aoyama apart. He staggered, crushing the ground beneath his foot as he struggled to control it.
Netero's voice was calm, yet carried the weight of a master:
"Young man… if you cannot wield your strength with control, it is nothing but brute force. True power exists only when it bends to your will. Otherwise, no matter how vast, it will never make you strong."
It was Aoyama's first time unlocking five gates at once—he needed a moment.
He nodded. "Give me one minute."
Just one minute.
Almost no one had ever made Netero wait. But seeing the storm of chakra blazing within Aoyama, Netero agreed, granting him the time.
Mothra hovered above, patiently gathering energy, awaiting its master's command.
Finally, Aoyama steadied his breathing, mastering the surging force within. He met Netero's gaze.
"I'm ready. Let's begin."
Netero's eyes widened, exhilarated.
"Is that so? Then let's see it!"
Aoyama vanished. In the blink of an eye, he was in front of Netero, fist cocked to smash the old man's nose into dust. A friendly "broken-face punch"—but with enough power to crater mountains.
But Netero was no ordinary foe. The Hunter Association's strongest human, a warrior who had transcended the limits of mankind, had an unparalleled.
Even against Aoyama's unleashed might, he held the advantage, perhaps seventy-thirty in his favor.
Netero blocked, then countered—his palm struck like lightning, swatting Aoyama aside.
With hands clasped once more, he unleashed the Guanyin. Hundreds of palms rained down in an instant, each strike carrying the force of an artillery shell.
The ground quaked, explosions ringing across the island. Not one blow landed on Aoyama—but Hisoka wasn't so lucky.
Too slow to dodge, he was caught in a strike and driven deep into the earth.
Meanwhile, Mothra released its stored energy. A compressed wave of light shot forth like a beam cannon, slamming against Guanyin's head.
Netero raised his eyes skyward. With a martial stance, one hand lifted to the heavens, the other pressed downward—simultaneous assault above and below.
He truly embodied the peak of humanity. His martial will, tempered a thousand times, had forged the Hundred-Type Guanyin into an unstoppable force.
Mothra endured the blows. As an ancient Titan, its body was forged of unfathomable resilience. Some Titans could slumber for millennia within magma or survive under mountains without issue.
Aoyama wasn't worried about Mothra. His real fear was this: if the Guanyin landed a decisive strike, he—as the summoner—would collapse first.