The Voyage Bureau—as the name implies—was the secret V5 directly under agency responsible for "ferrying" people to the Dark Continent.
On the surface, it negotiated entry and exit with the Gatekeepers. In the shadows… it monitored and contained those who returned from the Dark Continent only to meet calamity, die, and mutate into unrecognizable monsters.
In the lab on Underground Level 3, southwest corner of the south wall, a container was labeled:
[54-714-01]
Note: July 14, 1954 — Victim No. 1. Rope-twisted specimen. Suspected unknown calamity erased human consciousness. A monster.
That rope-like thing suddenly split open—forming an eye—and projected several images of varying sizes.
The duty staff reported it. Supervisors convened an emergency assessment meeting. And they immediately notified… a key party connected to the case—
Netero, the strongest human alive.
Early July 1954 was exactly when Netero—along with Zigg Zoldyck and gourmet hunter Linne—had accepted the Kukan'yu Kingdom commission to search for "Trinity Elixer," and ventured deep into the Dark Continent.
…
Hunter Association Headquarters
An office building emblazoned with the huge Hunter Association logo.
Top floor.
Four people occupied a full-size volleyball court, each busy with their own thing.
Thump-thump… A volleyball was being dribbled like a basketball between an old man's legs. Netero—tank top, shorts, full sports-mode—was grinning as he played a "steal the ball" game with a polite, bespectacled boy around thirteen or fourteen.
By the window, twin golden ponytails swayed in the breeze. Bisky, having found "gems" and forgotten she even had a student, had dumped Wing to keep Netero company. She was quietly bribing Bean—er, the bald assistant—to borrow his files and hunt for rare gemstone intel.
Then, a ringtone.
Bean-faced Man pulled out his phone, glanced at the caller ID, and frowned so faintly a crease formed on his smooth head. He answered without drawing attention. A few seconds later, his expression changed.
He hurried to stop Wing, shouting "Chairman!" as he rushed toward Netero.
Thunk— The volleyball arced in a ridiculous, physics-defying curve, dodged Wing's grab, grazed the boy's cheek, and returned neatly into Netero's hand.
Netero balanced it on a fingertip with a casual point.
Big-eared, Buddha-faced, white-browed and bearded, he looked over.
Bean-faced Man clenched the phone and whispered in his ear:
"Head office called… They said the 'victim' who once accompanied you into the Dark Continent—the one who died—seems to be showing signs of waking up…"
Netero's expression tightened.
The column of aura rising naturally from his crown—normally stabilized like an iron pillar by his absolute bodily control—shivered for the first time in who knows how many years.
Bisky caught it instantly.
"Old man," she called, ponytails snapping, "what happened?"
Shingen-ryu valued the mind above all: storms outside, unshaken within. It was a principle Netero drilled into her endlessly.
And yet his "steel" had cracked.
Netero didn't answer. He gestured for Bean-faced Man to turn on the TV and patch in a feed from the Voyage Bureau.
"See for yourself."
The screen flickered with static—then switched to the Bureau's Underground Level 3 lab. The rope-monster's projected images appeared in multiple panels, relayed live to Hunter Association HQ.
Wing—who'd come today on paper as a "visit," but in reality had been dragged here by Bisky to show Netero what kind of disciple she'd found—froze.
In one of the panels, he saw a figure he recognized.
He pushed up his glasses and blurted, "Roy?"
"Yeah," Netero said quietly.
"It's him…"
In the largest, clearest panel, Roy—earrings of sun and mountains, expression heavy and still as a deep lake—stared ahead at a hooded man carrying a fishing rod with a red bead.
…
Under the sea, far from here
Yorbian Continent, West Coast.
Northwest of the coastal city, about 270 nautical miles out.
Ten thousand meters beneath the surface—inside that seabed ruin, the Gothic cathedral-like structure…
Roy, Razor, Ging—and Gotoh and Elena who followed them through the cathedral doors—
The moment they crossed that towering entrance carved with reliefs of men and women in countless professions and faces, their vision lurched—
And the world changed.
Each of them was thrown into a vast, ownerless space, instantly cut off from the others.
"Boss!" Gotoh, half a step behind Roy, jolted in panic. He reached for where Roy had been—
and grabbed nothing but emptiness.
His heart tightened. He immediately raised his guard to full.
Then he heard movement. He tightened his grip on the Infinite Pistol, turned toward the sound—
and his eyes loosened in relief for half a second.
"Elena…"
His hand lowered—
Then whoosh—!
A button wrapped in Ten screamed toward him.
It came from "Elena."
Gotoh's elbow snapped up. He fired once—clean and precise—tagging the button mid-flight.
Only then did he look at the woman in front of him.
Behind those blue-glow glasses, her eyes weren't lively.
They were blank. Dead. Like a puppet on strings.
Gotoh's spine went cold.
This wasn't Elena.
At the same time, Roy realized it. Ging realized it. Razor realized it.
And somewhere else—alone with a creature that was elephant-bodied yet tapir-faced—the real Elena was circling her own opponent in the empty space.
"So… this half-real, half-fake… it feels like an unconscious domain," Roy muttered.
They'd entered the cathedral and been dragged into separate spaces. Either the Baku—or the cathedral itself—was enforcing some rule, generating these mirrored arenas. And if you wanted to leave…
you probably had to defeat the "enemy" you were given.
Just as Roy suspected: Ging had run into a fake Razor. Razor had run into a fake Gotoh. Everyone had been split and paired.
…
Back at the Hunter Association
Wing's eyes darted. He'd also spotted Gotoh in the feed.
He stole a glance at his master and grandmaster—
Netero stared at the center panel, watching Roy draw his blade and clash with Ging. His old eyes glinted, thinking hard.
Bisky folded her arms and looked at Netero.
"Ging… Roy… Old man. What is this?"
Netero stroked his beard. "Bean."
"Yes." Bean-faced Man hurried over and explained the chain of events in detail. When he got to the "rope-monster victim," likely a calamity specimen, somehow tied to Ging and Roy…
Bisky's mouth fell open. She didn't process it for a moment.
Netero watched Roy slash an arcing flame-blade toward Ging's neck and said flatly,
"Don't look at me. I don't know either."
"Details… we'll only know after we ask them."
Bisky watched "Ging" split into a shadow-copy to take the hit, while the real "Ging" appeared behind Roy and drove a fist toward his back. She smirked.
"Putting everything else aside—if you run into Ging… Roy's definitely eating a beating."
"Master," Wing said urgently, pale, "I don't think that's the real Ging."
Bisky shot him a glare. As if she couldn't tell.
Even if it wasn't the real Ging… the mirror-versions were arranged like reflections. If "real Ging vs. fake Razor" was a true mirror, then "fake Ging vs. Roy" was likely running at 80–90% fidelity. Which meant—
Whatever was producing these arenas had terrifying aura quantity and control.
"Kid won't go down that easily," Netero murmured.
The feed cut again.
Fake Ging struck from behind—
Roy's feet turned to swamp-mud at the perfect timing, as if he'd predicted it. He sank, dodged the punch cleanly, and reappeared behind Ging—driving a flaming thrust toward the back.
Netero's eyes narrowed. That move—he recognized it.
It was the technique Roy had used in the Hunter Exam during the Shimele Wetlands, when he "released" that blade and burned through Potcle's spider army.
Only now it was sharper, hotter—hot enough to warp the air into visible waves.
Netero spoke softly.
On either side, Wing and Bisky stared, trading a look of pure shock.
"…He already learned Ko," Wing whispered. "And it's been how long?"
Bisky's grin died on her lips.
She watched, almost not breathing.
In the footage—
Roy's sneak-attack thrust came in like a cremation spear.
Fake Ging had no time to turn.
He only said one word: "Turtle."
A massive phantom turtle dropped from above, wrapping fake Ging in its shell—catching Roy's thrust and neutralizing the flame with a black, heavy-water sheen. A deep, ancient bellow rumbled through the feed, vibrating the soul.
Roy's mind shook.
A prompt rang in his ear:
[Monster Codex expanded… "Deepwater Giant Turtle" detected… recorded.]
Deepwater Giant Turtle — C-rank
Visible aura: C (87/100 ten-thousand)
Potential aura: B (400/1000 ten-thousand)
Racial talent (nen): "Heavy Water"
(Ultra-cold water. Appears solid; contact freezes instantly. Named "heavy" because its freezing point is far below zero.)
Roy's blade felt like it had stabbed into a frozen stone.
He withdrew, then slammed a Magnetic Repulsion palm—Ko reinforced—into the turtle's shell, trying to shatter it through internal shock without direct contact.
Fake Ging split again, sacrificing another phantom to take the blow, and the real body reappeared a hundred meters away, widening the gap.
Roy narrowed his eyes. So it really was Ging's "Contract" ability at work—backed by beasts and phantoms.
He slapped his waist—shing!
Snow-Walk came free.
Now Roy held Snow-Walk in his left and Moon-Wane in his right.
Dual blades—clean, steady.
…
Netero stared.
Wing and Bisky stared.
Somewhere in Netero's fingers, the volleyball was spinning so fast it was nearly sparking.
For the first time in a long time—
the "strongest human" felt his hands itch to fight.
~~~
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