"Not bad."
Amos revealed a gentle smile. As for whether that "gentle" needed quotation marks, probably only Kisho himself knew.
Kisho sighed.
"Tsk." Amos raised an eyebrow. "Why the sigh? Don't tell me it's because your luck didn't bless you with a win?"
Kisho: "..."
He clasped his hands together and bowed toward Amos.
"Please spare me!"
"Heh! Heh~"
Amos let out two cold laughs toward Kisho, but didn't continue teasing him. Instead, he changed the topic.
"But I still have to congratulate you. I thought you wouldn't realize it until the entire exam was over."
Kisho's face darkened, revealing an expression that said he didn't want to think about it anymore.
Amos said seriously:
"Well, when I said you 'fought well,' I wasn't joking. I was genuinely praising you."
"Ah..."
Kisho lowered his head to look at the hand that had viciously punched someone earlier and waved it slightly.
"Just luck… But whether it was luck or not, I've decided not to wash this hand for a whole year."
Amos: "…Please don't. I'm afraid your hand will develop a crust."
...
Inside the exam arena, the pair from the first team that lost was now holding their internal one-on-one match.
Fizelle's rifle had been twisted into a spiral gun by Kisho, and with her leg injured as well, the fight ultimately ended with John stabbing a dart into Fizelle's shoulder, securing victory in the second internal match of the round.
Only after the referee announced the result did a dazed expression appear on John's face.
"I won..."
A proud look appeared on his face, and his eyes shone frighteningly bright.
Unfortunately, no one in the waiting area was paying attention to this match, and no one was interested in sharing his victory.
John's triumphant expression froze. Like someone wearing luxurious clothes while walking alone at night, he returned to the waiting area in silent frustration.
The referee spoke at the right moment.
"Next is the second internal match: Candidate No.232, Mire Eros, versus Candidate No.140, Togari."
Only then did Kisho and Amos—who had been verbally stabbing each other in the waiting area—finally stop and end their conversation.
Kisho patted Amos on the shoulder.
"I'm cheering for you with this hand that punched someone earlier. I'm giving you my luck—you'll definitely win!"
Then he stepped aside.
Amos brushed off his shoulder in disgust.
"Forget it. I'm afraid bad luck will possess me and a vengeful ghost will come for my life at midnight."
As he spoke, Amos walked into the arena. Togari also stepped forward, and the two took their positions.
Once the referee gave the order to begin, there were no pleasantries. The battle started immediately.
Two throwing knives spun through the air, one from the left and one from the right, sealing off Amos's escape routes.
Yet Amos stood still, completely unmoving—even when the knives spun toward his face.
"Puchi."
"Puchi."
Two consecutive sounds rang out as the cold-glinting metal blades split Amos's body apart, cutting him into three pieces.
Although the examinees present didn't cry out, their eyes widened and their pupils shrank sharply.
However, something even more astonishing happened.
Amos's shattered body parts did not disappear—they fell onto the floor.
There wasn't a single drop of blood.
"A shadow… or a substitute?"
Togari encountered such a situation for the first time and muttered to himself.
In the next moment, his expression changed drastically as he spun around.
Clang!
A dagger collided with a curved blade, sparks flying.
The curved blade was cut into two pieces by the dagger.
The dagger pressed against Togari's chest, and cold sweat immediately broke out on his forehead.
Amos chuckled softly.
"Do you surrender?"
Togari remained silent.
Then he nodded almost imperceptibly, the movement filled with bitterness.
He asked softly:
"When did you get behind me… There's no way I didn't notice at all..."
His voice grew quieter and quieter, as if deep self-doubt was rising within him.
Amos withdrew the dagger, walked behind the stunned Togari, and peeled a blank card off his body.
He spun the blank card between his fingers and smiled.
"I can only tell you this: the one you killed wasn't a shadow, nor a substitute."
He tilted his head and revealed a devilish smile.
"As for when this thing was stuck on you… maybe it was right when the exam started, or maybe it was when you were watching the fight so intently."
The card vanished from Amos's fingertips.
He said slowly:
"You can take your time guessing~"
Togari: "..."
After the referee announced the result, the fourth internal match of the round continued.
Amos walked back toward the waiting area. Kisho stared at him and even rolled his eyes dramatically.
While passionately assigning Kite to Togari, he had casually patted Togari on the shoulder and stuck the card onto him.
In other words, after spending so much time kindly explaining things earlier, he still ended up leaving Togari with two wrong answers.
Kisho said speechlessly to Amos, who had just returned beside him:
"You Manipulation types really love playing tactics. I once heard a saying—people who play tactics all have dirty hearts."
Amos scoffed.
"Give me a break. Only dumb Enhancement types would put in that much effort just to fight hand-to-hand."
Kisho raised an eyebrow.
"What did you say?!"
Amos mimicked Kisho's expression and raised an eyebrow as well.
"I'm talking about you. A dumb Enhancement type. A dumb Enhancement type who can't even recognize his own boss."
Kisho: "..."
One move. K.O.
No words left to say.
...
After the internal one-on-one matches ended, the lottery round began.
Kisho, Amos, John, and the still-unconscious Zart entered the losers' bracket.
All four had records of one win and one loss. If they lost again, it meant their Hunter Exam would end here.
Even so, John lowered his head and glanced at Zart, who was still unconscious on the ground, his expression serious.
He then quietly glanced at the two kids beside him.
On the surface, the draw would split them into two groups—but if these two ferocious little monsters didn't face each other, he wouldn't have any chance at all.
Netero smiled and pointed at a sealed black box.
"You may come draw lots now. No.1 fights No.2, and No.3 fights No.4."
Kisho raised his hand and pointed at Zart lying on the ground.
"What about him?"
"Ho ho."
Netero laughed.
"After you draw, the last number will be his. If someone happens to face him, that person wins automatically."
Kisho blinked.
"There's actually something this good?"
"As if you'd draw it." Amos mocked from beside him.
Kisho ignored him, walked over to Netero, reached into the box, and grabbed a slip at random.
"Number three."
"Second, Candidate No.74, John," Netero said.
John took a deep breath, stepped forward, and reached into the box.
He hesitated for a full five minutes before finally pulling out a number.
"Number two."
He looked at the number on the paper and let out a long breath.
At least he wouldn't have to fight one of the two demons.
At least it wasn't an immediate death sentence.
"Third, Candidate No.232, Mire Eros."
Amos walked up to the box.
Kisho suddenly grew nervous.
"Hey… maybe you should wash your hands first… your luck isn't exactly—"
However, as Amos revealed the paper in his hand, everyone present suddenly stopped breathing.
On the slip of paper Amos drew, written in bold black ink on white paper— was a large "4".
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