Everyone boarded the boat one after another.
A female examiner stood at the front, speaking with cheerful enthusiasm.
"Candidates, congratulations on making it through the grueling fourth phase of the exam."
"Reaching this point is proof of your outstanding abilities."
"I'll be your guide to Zevil Island."
"My name is Khara."
"First, some good news."
"The 26 candidates who have made it here — even if you fail the Hunter Exam this time — the Hunter Association will grant you automatic qualification to participate next year."
"So even if things don't go your way this round, don't be discouraged. There's always next time."
"You'll have complete freedom for the next two hours here."
"Enjoy yourselves."
But that last line barely registered with the examinees.
From the beginning, this exam wasn't about making friends.
From the initial qualifiers to the first long-form exam, the marathon trek through the Milsy Wetlands… the difficulty of each phase was obvious from the rising body count.
The second phase — under Menchi and Buhara — had the candidates dancing to their whims. The original task was even swapped for something completely different.
The third phase? Even worse.
Traps, criminals on death row, mental and physical trials... it was an all-around hell.
When they were brought to Warship Island, the Association claimed it was for rest. In reality, it was just another test disguised as downtime. That phase nearly wiped everyone out.
And now, the fifth exam: a brutal hunting game.
In the previous round, candidates had to work together. On the surface, it seemed like people got along.
But only on the surface.
Cooperation was born from necessity. Most of the examinees had already spent years scraping by in the real world — and they knew better than to trust easily.
Now that the hunting phase had begun, all pretenses were dropped.
There were no friends here.
Just competitors.
If you hesitated — if you let kindness get in the way — it could cost you your life.
Better not to get attached.
With this final phase, everything that came before was now irrelevant.
Before boarding the boat, many examinees had removed their number plates to obscure their identities and gain an edge.
Some, though — those confident in their abilities — didn't bother.
Kaizen sat quietly in the corner, pulling out a card with a number printed on it.
"371."
He narrowed his eyes.
"I remember this number…"
Although candidate 371 had already concealed their number plate, Kaizen hadn't forgotten the face.
"Sniper."
"That sniper who made a strong showing on Warship Island…"
Kaizen glanced toward Siper.
The sight made him think of Sally.
Back on Kaizen's team, Sally was their sniper.
She was a survivor — her country had been destroyed by underworld syndicates. She'd lost her memories after a traumatic injury. Kaizen had taken her in. Her entire crew had been wiped out.
"Sally never had much natural talent."
"And she forced her aura growth too early. She overextended herself for short-term gain… Now her progress has slowed to a crawl."
When Kaizen found her, she was already a C-rank Nen user.
Years had passed since then.
She'd climbed from low-C to upper-C, but had never broken through to B-rank. It was as though she'd hit her ceiling.
For most Nen users, grade C is where the climb ends.
Few ever break past it.
Even among world-class syndicates, the Shadow Beasts were elite — but most of their members were C-rank, with only a handful reaching B.
Kaizen had fought several of them firsthand.
"For fights in places like Heavens Arena, the criminal underworld, or in small nations… Sally's strength is enough."
"But to deal with threats on the level of Meteor City, the V5, or the Kakin Empire… she's not enough."
"And on the Dark Continent?"
"She wouldn't last a day."
Kaizen turned his attention back to Postscript.
"If that sniper has potential… they might be a good recruit. Their Nen could end up similar to Sally's."
"Maybe… a suitable replacement."
...
Hisoka strolled over casually.
"Kaizen, did you pull my number plate?"
Kaizen didn't even glance at him. "No. Not yours."
Hisoka's expression shifted into something between amusement and disappointment.
"Too bad… neither of us got lucky."
He sounded genuinely let down.
This would've been the perfect chance to fight Kaizen under exam rules — no interference from the proctors, no consequences.
After his earlier clash with Kaizen, Hisoka's interest had only grown.
He was fascinated by Kaizen's hidden cards — by the aura he hadn't yet shown.
To Hisoka, Kaizen was a buried treasure.
And he wanted to dig.
With a theatrical sigh, Hisoka turned and walked away.
Kaizen remained where he was, quiet and alone.
...
Suddenly, he felt a gaze fall on him.
Then vanish.
Then return again.
He quickly calculated the timing in his mind — an unconscious rhythm of 1.0 seconds between each glance.
When the stare returned again, Kaizen turned his head directly.
Their eyes met.
The other person quickly averted their gaze, clearly flustered.
"So I'm your target."
"You're not exactly subtle."
"That kind of carelessness... doesn't belong in a future Hunter."
Kaizen observed her carefully.
She wore a pink suit, had long blue hair, and a large yellow hat that nearly swallowed her head.
"Ponzu."
"She's good with bees… but not a Nen user."
"Those things in her hat must be her bees."
"If she awakens Nen and tailors her ability around them, she could be very effective at gathering close-range intel."
Kaizen's gaze narrowed, analyzing her quietly.
Another piece on the board.
Another possibility.
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