Seeing the lot in Amos's hand, John's eyes widened bigger than eggs, his face turning bright red as he panted heavily.
What is happiness?
Is it achieving victory after enduring countless hardships?
No!
It's winning without even having to fight, relying purely on luck!
Ignoring John, who looked like he might faint from happiness, Kisho and Amos's gazes met.
One glance that seemed to last ten thousand years, all the speechless feelings conveyed without words—truly speechless.
"Ho ho ho!"
Netero laughed happily.
"It seems this young fellow named Mire Eros drew a very good lot."
"Cough."
Hearing Netero's words, Amos coughed, trying to break the awkward atmosphere.
He even heard a low chuckle behind him—coming from Kisho's big boss.
He quietly glanced back and was surprised to see an interested expression on C·L's face.
Not just him—everyone else wore expressions of eager amusement.
A vein bulged on Amos's forehead.
A bunch of people who just want to watch the world burn!
"A good lot? Yeah, it's great. Really. I'm not being sarcastic."
Kisho said while clapping his hands.
The speechlessness in his heart had already solidified into something tangible because of Netero's remark.
He let out a long sigh and looked at Amos seriously.
"It seems a battle between us is inevitable."
"Yeah, that's not bad," Amos replied.
"After all, we've never really fought seriously before."
"Then what are we waiting for? Let's go."
Amos placed the lot back into the box and walked to the center of the field. From the other side, Kisho slowly approached him as well.
"Seriously. Next time before drawing lots please wash your hands."
Amos scratched his head.
"Putting the facts aside, even if my luck is terrible, don't you share even a tiny bit of the blame? If you had drawn number 1 or 2, none of this would have happened."
Kisho stared at him in disbelief.
"What kind of nonsense are you spouting?"
Amos knew when to stop.
"Cough. Forget it. Let's not talk about that right now. There's something more important to deal with."
Kisho's expression grew serious.
"Then decide. How should we fight?"
"I think we really should have a proper fight—but not here."
Amos's gaze subtly swept over the people watching around them.
"Although some things have already been exposed, there are more important things I'd rather not reveal so casually."
Kisho looked at Netero.
"Can you have the others avoid watching? And the examiners who don't need to observe can leave too. After all, as long as one of us wins, that's enough, right?"
"Although you're correct—how you fight isn't important, only that there is a winner—but..."
Netero narrowed his eyes and smiled, wagging a finger.
"It's not possible for the others to leave."
Kisho sighed.
"Then there's no choice. Let's use that to decide the winner. Whoever loses can just come back next year."
Amos nodded.
"Alright. Although using this method against someone from the Enhancement type puts me at a disadvantage... but there's no better option right now."
Kisho's eyes became extremely firm.
Amos's gaze was just as determined.
The two took their stances, ready to move at any moment.
"Three," Kisho said.
"Two," Amos replied.
As their countdown continued, the atmosphere became extremely tense. The candidates watching in the waiting area grew serious as well, seemingly expecting a major battle.
"One!"
"Scissors, Rock, Paper—!"
After the final count, the two boys standing in the center of the field simultaneously extended one hand.
Everyone: ...
Even though they planned to decide the winner with rock-paper-scissors, they made it look so dramatic—what a pair of irritating little brats!
Wait a second.
Why are you deciding victory in something as important as the Hunter Exam with such a childish method?!
To make it even worse, Kisho threw paper.
Amos also threw paper.
Amos pulled his hand back.
"Tch."
Kisho shrugged.
"Ah, what a coincidence."
"Let's do it again."
"Sure."
Everyone: ...
Don't make such casual agreements in a situation like this!
"Scissors, Rock, Paper—!"
They played again.
This time Kisho threw scissors.
Amos also threw scissors.
"What a coincidence," Kisho said.
"More like terribly unlucky!" Amos snapped.
Everyone: ...
"Best two out of three," Kisho waved his hand.
He paused and said seriously,
"This could go on forever. Let's do this—I'll throw rock next round."
The candidates watching frowned slightly.
Was this kid named Kisho planning to play a psychological game?
By saying he would throw "rock," he was trying to lure the opponent into throwing "paper."
Then at the last moment he would switch to "scissors" and secure victory.
This kind of dialogue could also make the opponent hesitate and reveal flaws in their thinking, making it easier to read their strategy.
Who would have thought this white-haired kid had quite a few tricks up his sleeve?
"Huh?"
Amos raised an eyebrow.
But surprisingly, he responded calmly.
"Alright. I understand."
"Then the third round," Kisho said.
"Let's go."
"Scissors—Rock—Paper—!"
The result appeared.
The kid named Kisho unexpectedly threw rock.
Across from him, Amos calmly threw paper.
Everyone: ...
They had never been this speechless in their entire lives.
Why was this kid named Noah Barton so honest?!
He actually threw exactly what he said he would!
And the kid named Amos just believed him... believed him?!
He wasn't influenced at all?
"Ah, looks like I lost."
Kisho withdrew his hand.
Amos smiled.
"That's right. You lost. Looks like you'll have to come back next year."
The two boys standing in the center of the field showed absolutely no sign of their mood being affected by the unusual duel. They continued chatting and laughing as if nothing had happened.
The candidates watching felt somewhat complicated emotions.
The match seemed ridiculous and comical.
But if they asked themselves honestly—could they trust their friend without hesitation in a situation like this? In such an important competition?
"Ho ho ho, what a wonderful duel."
Netero laughed.
Although he used the word "wonderful" for a joking match between two brats, in a certain sense, it truly was quite wonderful.
"Thus, the third round of the round-robin battles has concluded."
Netero looked toward the candidates in the waiting area.
"Candidate number 74, John.
Candidate number 232, Mire Eros.
Candidate number 234, C·L.
Candidate number 382, Kite."
"Congratulations. You have passed the 281st Hunter Exam and successfully obtained Hunter qualification."
"After the Hunter Exam concludes, the committee will issue your Hunter licenses."
Before Netero finished speaking, John shouted excitedly:
"Yes!"
However, he quickly realized he seemed to be the only one shouting.
The others... the others didn't even show whether they were happy or not.
What was going on?
Wasn't this supposed to be the most difficult Hunter Exam in history?
Meanwhile, Kite noticed something hidden in Netero's words.
"You said 'after the Hunter Exam concludes.' Does that mean the exam hasn't ended yet?"
"That's right."
Netero nodded with a smile.
"But for the candidates who have already obtained qualification—and those who have already been eliminated—it has indeed ended."
"The final test is for the candidates who currently have one win and two losses."
"That is candidate number 233, Noah Barton."
"And candidate number 621, Zart."
"Why?!"
Fizelle shouted angrily.
Even facing Netero, she spoke without holding back.
"They both have two losses too! Why do they get another chance?"
"That's unfair!"
Togari nodded in agreement.
"When I announced the rules earlier, my explanation for the third round—the 'round-robin battles'—was that 'candidates with no more than two losses still have a chance to obtain Hunter qualification.'"
Netero explained calmly.
"But unfortunately, that rule does not apply to the first two rounds."
"As the chief examiner of the final stage, I have the authority to interpret this rule."
"If you think it's unfair—"
Fizelle's eyes widened slightly, as if she saw a glimmer of hope.
But Netero smiled slyly.
"You may file a complaint with the Hunter Association."
Fizelle: ...
Togari: ...
The other candidates: ...
"Ho ho ho~"
Netero seemed very satisfied with the expressions of agreement the candidates reluctantly showed.
However, even though he had suddenly been given another chance, Kisho didn't feel relaxed at all.
He had a feeling that this final test might have been added temporarily by this fox-like chairman.
And it might even be specifically aimed at him.
"So may I ask, Mr. Chairman and Examiner—what are the rules for the final match?"
"Very simple."
Netero said slowly.
"If you gain the approval of the chief examiner—that is, me—you pass."
Hearing this, Kisho sucked in a breath.
The other candidates did the same.
This is what you call "very simple"?
Netero stepped forward.
The wooden clogs struck the floor with crisp sounds.
He slowly walked across the field.
Where he passed, clear marks appeared on the floor, connecting together to form a circle with a radius of one meter.
He stopped at the center of the circle and looked at Kisho with a smile.
"No matter what method you use, if you can make me leave this spot, you win."
"How about it? Very simple, right?"
Kisho: ...
Suddenly he felt that maybe coming back next year wouldn't be such a bad idea.