They stepped out of the hidden tunnel and into morning light. Zaban City loomed ahead—stone and steel, towers and smoke, all humming with life.
The Kiriko guide, still in his human disguise, led them through quiet streets and stopped before a tall, glass building. "This is it," he said.
Leorio stared up at it. "That's… kind of what I expected. Big. Imposing."
Gon nodded, excited. Kurapika's eyes narrowed slightly.
Renzo stayed silent, but his gaze drifted toward the side street. Something didn't feel right.
The Kiriko turned with a smirk. "Not that building. That one."
He pointed to a run-down restaurant next door—small, dimly lit, with a flickering sign and two steps leading to the door.
Leorio squinted. "Seriously?"
"They'd never use a place so conspicuous," the Kiriko replied. "Come on."
Inside, the restaurant was nearly empty. A heavy man stood behind the counter. The Kiriko walked up. "Steak combo," he said.
"Grilled or broiled?"
"Low flame. Grilled."
Without another word, the waiter gestured them to a back room.
The door opened to a clean space with a table already set with food. As they sat, the Kiriko turned to them one last time.
"You made it here. One in ten thousand do."
Gon blinked. "That rare?"
"Most never even see this room," the Kiriko said. "Congratulations on getting this far—especially as rookies. Good luck. Maybe I'll see you next year."
He turned a dial hidden under the table.
The floor shifted. With a soft jolt, the entire room began to descend.
"Wait, what did he mean 'next year'?" Leorio asked, picking up a spoon. "We're not failing before the exam even starts, right?"
Kurapika crossed his arms. "Only one rookie passes every few years, statistically."
Renzo said nothing. He sat still, hands folded.
Gon looked at each of them. "Why do so many people want to be Hunters, even if it's this hard?"
That stumped them for a beat. Then—
"Because it pays better than anything else," Leorio said quickly. "Sixty of the world's top hundred richest people are Hunters. You can enter most countries without clearance, access libraries, archives, weapons—even if you sell your license, your family's set for generations."
Kurapika shook his head. "That's not what a Hunter is."
"Spare me the speech," Leorio snapped.
"A true Hunter preserves culture. Tracks poachers. Investigates crimes no one else can. They protect society and nature. It's about conviction."
They glared across the table.
"What about you?" Kurapika asked. "Why are you here, Renzo?"
Renzo blinked slowly. "...I don't remember."
The elevator slowed. The lights above flickered.
"Guess we'll all find out eventually," Gon said, trying to keep the mood light.
The doors slid open with a hiss.
They stepped into a vast underground tunnel filled with people. The crowd barely glanced at them.
Kurapika's jaw tightened. "Every one of them is one in ten thousand."
Gon whispered, "How many are here?"
A voice beside them answered. "You're number 405."
A man with a round face and friendly eyes offered Gon a handshake. His badge read #16.
"Name's Tonpa. You must be new, huh?"
Before Gon could answer, a small official approached, handing each of them a badge.
"Your numbers are 405 through 408," the official said.
Tonpa laughed. "Rookies, huh? This is my thirty-fifth attempt."
Leorio's eyes widened. "Thirty-five!?"
Kurapika frowned. "And you're proud of that?"
Tonpa smiled wider. "Of course. I'm what you call a veteran. I've seen it all. I can show you the ropes if you'd like."
Renzo studied him. Something about the smile didn't sit right.
Gon asked, "Do you know everyone here?"
Tonpa pointed around the tunnel. "That's Bourbon, snake charmer, relentless. Cherry, best unarmed fighter. Todo, smart wrestler. The Amori Brothers—teamwork specialists. Geretta, huntsman, deadly with darts and clubs."
Gon nodded. "So many strong people…"
"Most won't make it," Tonpa said lightly. "Even the good ones don't always pass."
A scream echoed down the hall. The crowd shifted.
They turned to see a man on the ground—both of his forearms gone, bleeding out.
Another examinee stood over him. "He bumped into someone and didn't apologize."
Tonpa sighed. "That guy again… Hisoka. #44. Could've passed last year if he hadn't attacked an examiner. New ones each year though, so—anything goes."
Leorio's mouth dropped. "And he's allowed to retake!?"
Tonpa shrugged. "The rules bend for talent."
Then he clapped. "Anyway—before the trial begins, a toast to luck and new friendships!"
He pulled out four cans of juice and handed them over.
Gon smiled. "Thanks!" He cracked the can, took a whiff, then paused.
Renzo's hand shot out, blocking the drink.
"Wait," Gon said. "This smells… off." He sniffed again, brow furrowed.
Kurapika raised an eyebrow. "A sealed drink smells off?"
Leorio checked his can, then poured it onto the ground without drinking.
Tonpa laughed, trying to keep it light. "Maybe it sat too long. My bad!"
Renzo watched him closely. That smile had changed. Just for a second.
Gon turned to Tonpa. "Thanks anyway!"
Tonpa walked away, teeth clenched. Behind him, a few examinees chuckled. "Looks like the Rookie Crusher's strike missed this time."
Renzo looked at his unopened can, then at Tonpa's retreating back.
The Exam hadn't even started. And already, the test had begun.