Kevin's eyes widened as Netero materialized before him, faster than anything he'd ever seen. There was no wind-up, no telegraph—just instantaneous movement that defied comprehension.
He's toying with me, Kevin realized. This isn't even his full speed.
Netero's palm pressed gently against Kevin's chest. The touch was light, almost casual—and then the force hit.
Kevin's feet left the ground. His body flew backward, arms pinwheeling, completely unable to resist. He crashed into the arena wall ten meters behind him with a thunderous impact that cracked the stone.
"One," Netero said cheerfully. "Two more to go, young man."
Kevin picked himself up, shaking off the dust. His chest ached where Netero had touched him—not injured, but deeply bruised. The old man had held back, obviously. If he'd wanted to cause real damage, Kevin would be unconscious.
This is insane, he thought, settling back into his stance. He's a hundred years old and he moves like that?
He adjusted his approach. Standing still and trying to absorb the hit clearly wasn't working. Netero's strength was simply too great—he'd be launched no matter how solid his stance.
Which meant he needed to move. To flow with the force, redirect it, find some way to stay connected to the ground.
Netero attacked again—another instant teleportation, another palm strike. This time Kevin was ready, or as ready as anyone could be. He twisted his body, trying to angle the force downward, to let it pass through him into the earth.
It almost worked. Almost.
He slid back five meters, his feet carving grooves in the packed earth, but he stayed upright, stayed grounded—
Then the residual force lifted him off his feet, and he tumbled backward.
"Two!" Netero announced happily. "One more and I win!"
Kevin lay on the ground for a moment, breathing hard. His body screamed protest, but his mind was racing.
He's too fast to dodge. Too strong to block. I can't match his power, can't match his speed—
But the rule wasn't about matching him. It was about not being pushed away. There had to be a way.
He stood slowly, brushing off dirt. Netero watched him with bright, interested eyes.
"Any clever ideas left, young man?"
Kevin didn't answer. Instead, he reached into his pack and withdrew a vial—pale blue, the temporary enhancement potion. He drank.
The effect was immediate—strength surged through him, his Nen flaring brighter. He settled into a new stance, lower this time, his feet spreading wide, his center of gravity dropping as far as it would go.
And then, before Netero could move, Kevin acted.
He attacked.
Not to win—that was impossible. But to control the engagement. He launched himself at Netero with all his enhanced speed, throwing a punch—
Which Netero caught casually on one palm.
But Kevin hadn't expected it to land. The instant Netero blocked, Kevin grabbed that palm with both hands, anchoring himself to the old man.
Netero's eyebrows rose. "Oh?"
He pushed.
Kevin held on.
The force was tremendous—it felt like being caught in a hurricane. But Kevin had prepared for this. He bent his knees, let his body go limp, let the force flow through him while maintaining his grip. His feet left the ground, but his hands didn't let go—he swung around Netero's arm like a flag in a storm, never breaking contact.
When the push ended, Kevin was still attached to Netero's arm, dangling absurdly.
The arena was silent.
Then Netero laughed—a genuine, delighted laugh that echoed off the walls.
"Clever boy! You weren't pushed away—you flew, but you never let go!" He shook his arm, but Kevin held tight. "This counts as surviving the push, I think!"
The referee hesitated, looking at Netero for confirmation. The Chairman nodded happily.
"One more push, young man. Same rules. Let's see if you can do it again."
Kevin dropped from Netero's arm, landing in a crouch. His enhancement potion was already fading—he had maybe a minute left at full strength.
One more. Just one more.
Netero attacked again, but this time Kevin was already moving, not away but into the strike. As Netero's palm extended, Kevin ducked under it, spinning behind the old man and wrapping his arms around Netero's waist from behind.
Netero pushed—a blast of force that should have sent Kevin flying. But Kevin had anchored himself to Netero's body, his arms locked, his Nen flaring desperately to maintain the grip.
For a long, impossible moment, they hung there—Netero standing calmly, Kevin clinging to his back like a determined koala, the force of the push trying to tear them apart.
Then the push ended.
Kevin slid to the ground, gasping. His enhancement potion was spent—he could feel the fatigue crashing over him like a wave.
Netero turned, looking down at him with something like genuine respect in his ancient eyes.
"You passed," he said simply. "Three pushes, not pushed away. One and a half points for you."
The arena erupted—not in noise, but in stunned silence from the watching candidates and examiners. No one had ever seen anyone survive three of the Chairman's pushes. No one.
Kevin lay on the ground, staring up at the ceiling, a slow grin spreading across his face.
I did it. I actually did it.
Netero extended a hand, helping him up. "That was the most creative response I've seen in decades," he said quietly, for Kevin alone. "Bisky chose well."
Kevin shook his head, still catching his breath. "I didn't beat you. I just... refused to lose."
"Sometimes that's the same thing." Netero clapped him on the shoulder—gently this time. "Rest now. You've earned it."
Kevin walked from the arena on unsteady legs, past the staring candidates, past the shocked examiners, past Kate's approving nod and Gawain's awe-struck gaze.
He'd won his first match.
But more than that—he'd learned something about himself. About what he was capable of when pushed to his limits.
The forge was still hot. And he was still being shaped.
Kevin stepped out of the arena, his body aching but his spirit soaring. One and a half points—more than any regular victory would grant—and he'd earned them against the most powerful person he'd ever faced.
As he passed Rock, he caught the drone user's eye and gave a slight nod. Watch carefully, the gesture said. Learn what you can.
Rock nodded back, his expression intense with concentration.
The next match was announced: Rock versus Netero.
Rock walked into the arena with visible tension in his shoulders. Unlike Kevin, he hadn't had time to prepare mentally for this—he'd expected to watch others first, to analyze, to plan. Instead, he was being thrown directly into the fire.
Netero smiled benignly. "For you, young man, the condition is the same. Three pushes. Don't be pushed away, and you win."
Rock swallowed hard but nodded. His drones materialized around him—the transport drone lifting him slightly off the ground, the attack drone hovering at his shoulder, the reconnaissance drone climbing high for a broader view.
"Clever," Netero observed. "Using altitude to avoid being pushed. But remember—if you leave the arena, you lose."
Rock's strategy became clear instantly. He rose on his transport drone, climbing to the maximum height he could maintain while still being within the arena boundaries. From there, even if Netero pushed him, the force would have to travel upward—against gravity—giving Rock more time to react.
Netero's eyes sparkled with appreciation. "Interesting approach. Let's see if it works."
He attacked.
Unlike against Kevin, where he'd used overwhelming speed, Netero's approach to Rock was different. He leaped—actually leaped—into the air, his ancient body launching upward with impossible power. In midair, he twisted, his palm extending toward Rock—
Rock's attack drone struck first. A paralyzing dart shot toward Netero, but the Chairman twisted again, avoiding it with casual ease. His palm connected with Rock's transport drone, not Rock himself.
The drone shattered.
Rock fell, but his transport drone materialized again instantly—the cooldown was short, and he'd anticipated this. He caught himself ten meters above the ground, breathing hard.
"Two pushes left," Netero called up cheerfully. "But you're running out of tricks, I think."
Rock's mind raced. He couldn't stay at range—Netero would just keep destroying his drones until he fell. He couldn't get close—the Chairman's power was overwhelming. He needed something else.
His reconnaissance drone, still circling high above, suddenly dove.
Netero looked up, curious, as the small drone streaked toward him. At the last moment, it released a cloud of dust and debris it had gathered from the arena floor—a desperate, improvised smokescreen.
Netero blinked, momentarily obscured.
Rock attacked.
Not from above—from below. While Netero was distracted by the reconnaissance drone's dive, Rock had descended silently, his attack drone leading the way. As the dust cleared, the attack drone was inches from Netero's back.
The paralyzing dart fired.
Netero moved—impossibly fast, even for him—but the dart was already in flight. It grazed his shoulder, a scratch rather than a solid hit.
Netero paused. "Oh. That's... actually impressive."
The toxin was weak against someone of Netero's caliber—it wouldn't paralyze him, not really. But it was enough to make him hesitate, to slow him for just a fraction of a second.
In that fraction, Rock grabbed Netero's arm with both hands and held on.
Netero pushed.
The force was immense—Rock felt his grip slipping, his arms screaming in protest. But he held, his body flailing in the air like a flag, his feet nowhere near the ground.
When the push ended, Rock was still attached to Netero's arm, dangling absurdly.
The arena was silent.
Then Netero laughed—that same delighted laugh as with Kevin. "Two for two! First Kevin, now you! This exam is full of surprises!"
He gently deposited Rock on the ground. "You passed. One and a half points."
Rock staggered, his arms trembling, his drones dissipating as his concentration wavered. But he was standing. He'd survived.
Kevin caught his eye from the sidelines and nodded approvingly.
The forge was growing stronger.
The arena fell silent as the dust slowly settled. Kate lay in a shallow crater, his body broken, his weapon shattered, but his eyes—those calm, knowing eyes—still open and watching Kevin with something like respect.
Kevin landed lightly nearby, breathing evenly. The enhancement potion he'd taken earlier was fading, but the boost had been more than enough.
"Match to Kevin," Netero announced cheerfully. "Number 49 advances."
Medical staff rushed in to tend to Kate, who waved them off weakly, pushing himself to sit up. His lips were bloodied, his abdomen already darkening with bruise, but he managed a faint smile.
"Still holding back?" he asked Kevin quietly.
Kevin offered a hand, helping him stand. "You knew I was."
Kate nodded, accepting the assessment without rancor. "Next time, I'll be ready."
They walked from the arena together, allies still despite the violence of their match. In the stands, the remaining candidates watched with renewed respect—not just for Kevin's overwhelming power, but for the bond that survived even direct combat.
Rock, still fuming from his own encounter with Netero's psychological games, watched Kevin with complicated eyes. The man had defeated him fairly, then helped him, then watched him be humiliated by the Chairman. Now he'd demolished another Nen user without apparent effort.
What kind of person is he really? Rock wondered.
Bajiao and Goreinu exchanged glances. Their matches were coming—against each other, no less. The final group would determine who among them would become Hunters and who would try again next year.
Gawain sat rigidly, his knuckles white, his eyes burning. He'd watched Kevin's matches with religious intensity, memorizing every movement, every technique. When his turn came against the Chairman, he would be ready.
Iquel and Astrand, the two non-Nen users in Group 2, watched with professional detachment. They'd survived this far on skill and determination alone. Nen or no Nen, they intended to survive the final phase too.
Netero called the next match: Rock versus Kate.
Two Nen users, both wounded—one physically, one psychologically. The Chairman's eyes sparkled with anticipation. This would be interesting.
Rock entered the arena with renewed determination. Netero's games had stung, but he'd had time to think, to plan. Kate was wounded, his weapon shattered. This was Rock's best chance at a real victory.
Kate walked in more slowly, favoring his injured side but carrying himself with the same quiet dignity as always. His eyes met Rock's across the arena, and something passed between them—not hostility, but acknowledgment.
We're both hunters, that look said. Let the best one win.
"Begin!" Netero called.
Rock's drones materialized instantly—transport lifting him skyward, attack drone diving at Kate, reconnaissance climbing for tactical view.
Kate moved. Despite his injuries, he was fluid, graceful, his empty hands tracing patterns in the air as he evaded the attack drone's first passes.
The drone was fast, but Kate was faster. He ducked, rolled, twisted—each movement economical, precise, conserving energy for the real fight.
Rock descended slightly, using his height advantage to track Kate's movements. The reconnaissance drone fed him data, showing patterns, predicting trajectories.
There. A opening. Kate's dodge left him slightly off-balance, his injured side slowing his recovery.
Rock's attack drone dove.
Kate saw it coming. In that instant, he made a decision—not to evade, but to act. As the drone approached, he leaped, not away but toward it, his hand extending.
The drone's paralyzing dart fired.
Kate twisted in midair, the dart grazing his shoulder instead of striking center mass. His hand closed around the drone.
And squeezed.
The drone shattered, its Nen-constructed form collapsing under Kate's focused aura. Rock gasped—the feedback was painful, disorienting.
Below, Kate landed, breathing hard. His shoulder was already going numb from the dart's partial effect, but he was still standing. Still fighting.
Rock descended slowly, his transport drone bringing him to ground level. His expression was grim but determined.
"You're good," he said. "Really good."
"You're not bad yourself." Kate's voice was calm despite the obvious pain. "But you rely too much on your drones. What happens when they're gone?"
Rock's jaw tightened. He had one drone left—the transport, which couldn't fight. His attack drone was destroyed, its cooldown period leaving him vulnerable.
He made a decision.
The transport drone lifted him again, but this time not high—just enough to give him a few extra seconds. He dove at Kate, not fleeing but attacking, using his body as a weapon.
Kate's eyes widened—then narrowed in approval. Good. Fighting to the end.
They clashed in the center of the arena, two Nen users with nothing left but their wills and their bodies. Rock's strikes were desperate but precise; Kate's blocks were weakened but knowing.
For a long minute, they fought—not with powers, but with flesh and bone and spirit.
Then Kate's injured side gave out. A moment's weakness, a fraction of a second's delay—
Rock's fist connected with his jaw.
Kate crumpled.
Rock stood over him, breathing hard, his fists bloody, his body screaming protest. But he was standing. He'd won.
"Match to Rock," Netero announced, genuine approval in his voice. "Well fought, both of you."
Rock extended a hand to Kate, helping him up. Kate took it, swaying but upright.
"Good fight," Kate said quietly.
"Good fight," Rock agreed.
They walked from the arena together, enemies turned allies turned enemies turned... something else. The exam was strange that way.
In the stands, Kevin watched with a faint smile. His forge was growing. And these pieces—these strong, proud, determined people—were exactly what he needed.
The final phase continued. But already, the future was taking shape.
The final results were announced, and the weight of the outcome settled over the arena like a physical presence.
Final Scores:
Kevin — 4 wins, 1.5 bonus — 5.5 points
Kate — 3 wins, 1.5 bonus — 4.5 points
Gawain — 1 win, 1.5 bonus — 2.5 points
Rock — 1 win, 0 bonus — 1 point
Rock stared at the numbers as if he could will them to change through sheer disbelief. He had come into the final phase second in points, confident in his abilities, certain of his advancement. Now he sat at the bottom, the only Nen user among the four who would not be receiving a Hunter license today.
Gawain, meanwhile, looked almost dazed with joy. He had scraped through by the narrowest margin, his single victory over Rock combined with Netero's bonus pushing him just ahead.
The other group's results came in shortly after:
Group 2 Final Scores:
Iquel — 3 wins, 1.5 bonus — 4.5 points
Astrand — 2 wins, 1.5 bonus — 3.5 points
Bajiao — 2 wins, 0 bonus — 2 points
Goreinu — 1 win, 0 bonus — 1 point
Bajiao let out a whoop of joy, grabbing Goreinu in a bear hug. "We made it! We actually made it!"
Goreinu's expression was more complicated—relief mixed with the sharp awareness that he'd barely scraped through. His single victory had come against... himself? No, he'd lost to Bajiao in their direct match. His point came from—he checked the standings again—from defeating Astrand in their personal duel. Just barely enough.
Iquel and Astrand accepted their results with stoic grace, nodding to each other in mutual respect. They had fought well, proven themselves against Nen users without possessing Nen themselves. Their licenses were earned.
Netero stepped forward, raising his hands for silence. "The final results are in! Four winners from each group—Kevin, Kate, Gawain, Iquel, Astrand, Bajiao, and Goreinu from Group 2—" He paused, counting on his fingers. "That's seven. Seven new Hunters!"
A ripple of confusion passed through the crowd. Seven? There were supposed to be eight finalists. Four from each group would be eight.
Netero's eyes twinkled. "Ah, but you see, Rock from Group 1 and Goreinu from Group 2 both scored 1 point. In such cases, we have a tiebreaker." He glanced at the two. "Unfortunately, Rock declined his opportunity."
All eyes turned to Rock.
He stood rigid, his jaw clenched, his fists white-knuckled at his sides. "I lost fairly. I won't beg for a second chance I don't deserve."
Netero nodded slowly, something like respect in his ancient eyes. "A principled decision. Rare." He turned back to the group. "Then it's settled. Seven new Hunters join our ranks today!"
The arena erupted—not in wild celebration, but in polite applause from the examiners and staff. The Kakin officials looked slightly confused but recovered quickly, offering congratulations.
Kevin moved through the crowd to Rock's side. The drone user stood apart, staring at nothing.
"You could have taken the tiebreaker," Kevin said quietly.
"And won against someone who barely scraped through?" Rock's laugh was bitter. "What would that prove? That I'm better than the weakest? I came here to prove I was the strongest. Instead, I proved I'm not even top seven."
Kevin was silent for a moment. Then: "You know what your problem was?"
Rock looked at him sharply.
"You fought with pride instead of strategy. Against me, you attacked directly instead of using your advantages. Against Netero, you let his games get in your head. Against Kate, you were already beaten before you started." Kevin's voice was calm, not accusatory. "Your ability is excellent. Your mindset needs work."
Rock's jaw tightened, but he didn't argue.
"Next year," Kevin said. "Come back next year with a clearer head. And when you do, you'll pass."
He walked away, leaving Rock alone with his thoughts.
The ceremony was brief. Each new Hunter received their license—a small card with their photo and number, insignia stamped in gold. Kevin held his, feeling its weight.
Freedom, he thought. Access. Protection.
Everything he'd worked for.
Gawain approached him afterward, bowing deeply. "Kevin-san! Thank you for everything! Your guidance, your example—I will strive to be worthy of the path you've shown!"
Kevin blinked. "I didn't really—"
"You showed me what strength looks like! What honor in combat means!" Gawain straightened, eyes shining. "When I become a great Hunter, it will be because of you!"
He bowed again and hurried away before Kevin could respond.
Kate appeared at Kevin's elbow, a faint smile on his face. "You've acquired a disciple."
"I've acquired a headache."
"Same thing, sometimes." Kate's expression softened. "Congratulations, Hunter Kevin."
"Congratulations to you too, Hunter Kate."
They clasped hands briefly, a bond sealed not just in combat but in trust.
Bajiao bounded over, dragging Goreinu with him. "We did it! We're Hunters! Can you believe it?!"
Goreinu managed a small smile. "I can barely believe it. Last place and still—"
"You earned it," Kevin said firmly. "Don't sell yourself short."
The four of them stood together—Kevin, Kate, Bajiao, Goreinu—the core of what Kevin was building. The forge had its first official members.
Across the arena, Rock watched them, his expression unreadable. Then he turned and walked away, already planning, already preparing.
Next year. He'd be ready next year.
Netero approached Kevin as the crowd dispersed. "Congratulations, young man. Biscuit will be proud."
"Thank you, Chairman." Kevin hesitated. "Can I ask you something?"
"Of course!"
"That duel—with Rock. You knew he'd react badly. You pushed him deliberately."
Netero's eyes twinkled. "Did I?"
Kevin waited.
The Chairman sighed, his playful demeanor fading slightly. "The exam doesn't just test strength, young Kevin. It tests character. Rock has tremendous potential, but potential means nothing if it's poisoned by pride and self-doubt. I gave him a chance to see himself clearly." He shrugged. "Whether he learns from it is up to him."
Kevin nodded slowly. It was harsh—but perhaps necessary.
"Now go." Netero waved. "Celebrate. Rest. You've earned it. The real work starts tomorrow."
Kevin rejoined his friends, and together they walked from the arena into the Kakin night. New Hunters. New possibilities. New responsibilities.
The forge was lit. The work was just beginning.