Silence hung heavy in the vast gymnasium, a stark contrast to the recent chaos. The polished wooden floor was scuffed and marked, littered with discarded badges, silent testaments to eighty percent attrition. Only three figures remained standing in the center of the arena: myself, and the two other victorious applicants. Their ragged breathing echoed slightly in the suddenly still space, a stark reminder of the brutal physical test they had just endured and won. My own breathing was calm, steady, a quiet counterpoint to their exhaustion. Botobai Gigante surveyed the three of us, his imposing figure radiating an aura of finality, his reptilian eyes assessing, perhaps, not just our victory, but how we carried it.
Then, he turned slightly as Beans reappeared silently at the edge of the arena floor, his usual air of quiet efficiency back in place.
"Beans," Botobai's deep voice rumbled, the sound echoing slightly in the quiet hall. "Contact the Chairman."
Beans nodded instantly, his movements precise and practiced. He produced a sleek, modern communication device from an inner pocket. He tapped a few controls, then spoke into it clearly, his voice polite and perfectly modulated. "President Netero, sir? Beans here." There was a short pause as he presumably received a response. "Regarding the 276th Exam, Phase Three concluded."
Another pause.
"Yes, sir, Proctor Botobai Gigante."
A longer pause this time, filled with the faint sounds of static from the device.
"Only three applicants remain... Yes, sir, three. Shall we proceed with the remaining phases, or...?" He listened intently for a moment, his expression unchanging, then nodded again. "Understood, sir. Speaker mode activated."
Suddenly, a familiar, outrageously cheerful and energetic voice erupted from the device, startlingly loud in the quiet gym. It was unmistakable, filled with a vibrant, almost youthful vitality that belied the speaker's true age. "Ho ho ho! Only three made it past Botobai?" Chairman Isaac Netero's voice boomed, filled with genuine surprise and delight. "Excellent! Means they're quality! Strong stock! No need for further tests, wouldn't you agree?"
I exchanged glances with the two other applicants; they looked as surprised as I felt.
Netero's voice continued, booming with infectious enthusiasm, radiating power even through the electronic speaker. "Congratulations, you three! You have officially passed the 276th Hunter Exam! Ho ho ho! Well done! You earned it! Report to headquarters for orientation and license distribution! Beans knows the way! I look forward to meeting you bright young sparks later! Keep up the good work! Ho ho!" The line clicked dead, leaving a sudden silence behind.
Beans deactivated the speakerphone, his expression unchanged, the same quiet efficiency back in place. "The Chairman has declared the Exam concluded," he stated, a simple confirmation of the astonishing news. He allowed himself a brief, polite inclination of his head towards us. "Congratulations."
Botobai turned back to us, his immense form shifting slightly. The faintest hint of something resembling approval, a subtle softening around his piercing reptilian eyes, was visible. "You have passed," he stated, the words carrying the weight of his authority. He then offered a small, almost imperceptible smile, which looked profoundly, disarmingly odd on his intimidating face. It was a thin-lipped stretch that didn't reach his eyes. "A word of advice, young Hunters: The Hunter License grants immense freedom, access, and opportunity, but also comes with significant responsibility. Remember to uphold the principles that govern our profession. Stay on the right side of the law..." His smile widened slightly, becoming less benign and vaguely menacing, the look in his eyes sharpening. "...or someone like me might end up hunting you." It was clearly both a jest, delivered with dry humor, and a deadly serious warning wrapped in the same breath. The implication was clear: cross the line, and the most powerful Hunters might become your predators.
The three of us could only manage jerky, awkward nods, like bobblehead toys, completely unable to formulate a verbal response to the Triple-Star Terrorist Hunter and Zodiac member standing before us. Our minds were likely still processing the abrupt end to the exam and the weight of his words. With a final, almost imperceptible nod to Beans, Botobai turned and strode out of the gymnasium, his powerful presence lingering in the vast space even after his massive form disappeared through the exit.
"If you will follow me," Beans said politely, his voice cutting through the lingering tension. He gestured towards an exit along the wall. We followed him out of the gymnasium and back towards the parking area. The large buses that had brought us were gone, replaced by a sleek black SUV bearing the Hunter Association symbol, the distinctive two overlapping X's, discreetly etched on the upper left corner of its tinted windshield. We were ushered inside, settling into the comfortable leather seats in silence, the soft hum of the engine a welcome change from the sounds of combat.
The ride through the streets of Swardani City to the Hunter Association Headquarters was a very short one. The gymnasium complex was clearly adjacent to the main building, a brief hop in official transport rather than a long journey. It provided just a small break, a moment to collect my thoughts before the next step. My Hunter Exam experience... it had been a brutal winnowing, designed to test resilience, awareness, and combat prowess under pressure. Tsezguerra's brutal endurance and obstacle course, Zest's strategic Gungi gambit (which I'd luckily bypassed entirely), Botobai's sudden-death battle royale in the gym. Had I performed well? Objectively, yes. My physical training under Dad, combined with my Nen basics, had rendered the physical phases almost trivial for me, a demonstration of my solid foundation. The Gungi phase, however, remained a stark reminder of my intellectual weaknesses in abstract strategy and the significant role luck had played in my advancement. I was competent, certainly, far more so than the vast majority who started, but the path ahead required continuous learning and growth, not just reliance on existing advantages and fortunate breaks.
My gaze drifted to the two other survivors seated opposite me in the spacious back seat of the SUV. They moved with an almost instinctive synchronicity, their shared glances conveying unspoken understanding and trust forged in combat. The man was tall, with sharp, intelligent features and short-cropped blonde hair, his posture ramrod straight even while seated, radiating a quiet intensity. The woman was shorter, with dark, wavy hair pulled back severely from a sharp-boned face, her dark eyes piercing and constantly observant, missing nothing. They were dressed in simple, dark-colored training clothes, durable and clearly designed for movement, showing scuffs and dust from the previous phases but otherwise intact. They both had a focused intensity about them, a dangerous competence honed through practice and coordination. I recalled their seamless takedown of the other five applicants in the final melee and remembered noting their almost completely suppressed presence during the rest period after the first phase. They were skilled, no doubt about it. Likely formidable individuals.
We soon arrived at the imposing Hunter Association Headquarters. The building was even more impressive up close, a structure that commanded respect. Beans led us through polished, gleaming corridors that felt both efficiently modern and subtly imposing. The air here was clean, cool, and seemed to hum with a focused energy. The corridors felt both familiar from my memories of the series and utterly surreal to be walking through them in person. Beans finally stopped before a nondescript door, opened it, and gestured for us to enter.
The room inside was well-lit, set up like a classroom or briefing hall, with comfortable chairs arranged around a central space – recognizably similar in layout to where Gon's group had their orientation in the series. And waiting inside, perched impossibly, casually, on the back of a chair as if it were the most natural seat in the world, was Chairman Isaac Netero himself.
He looked exactly as I remembered from Anon's clear memories – ancient, his face a roadmap of wrinkles, yet radiating more vitality, more sheer life, than anyone I'd ever met, a mischievous twinkle dancing in his eyes.
"Welcome, welcome!" he chirped, his voice full of energy, hopping down from the chair with surprising agility for someone so old. "The successful trio of the 276th! Ho ho ho! Excellent work getting this far!" He moved towards us, his presence filling the room. He lamented, with exaggerated disappointment that didn't quite mask his genuine amusement, "I was planning five phases this year! Had a wonderful final test all lined up myself, a real doozy, something to truly test your limits! But you three were just too efficient! Finished Botobai's test too quickly! Ruined all my fun! Ho ho ho!" He chuckled, the sound deep and resonant.
Observing him up close, I felt the sheer, overwhelming depth of his Nen. It wasn't loud or oppressive like Botobai's contained potential power; it was something else entirely. Infinitely vast, calm, like staring directly into the heart of a star – playful and seemingly light on the surface, but containing unimaginable, god-like energy within. Beside Netero, even Botobai, the formidable Dragon of the Zodiacs, would seem… small. Truly an eccentric and terrifying old man, the pinnacle of power in this world.
Netero beamed at us, his eyes sparkling. "Well done again! The real journey starts now! Beans here will handle the boring bits! Listen closely!" He gestured towards his secretary. "I hope to see great things from all three of you! Produce some excellent results for the Hunter Association!" And with another hearty laugh, a sound that seemed to shake the very air in the room, he moved with a speed my eyes, honed as they were, could barely track, leaving the room.
Beans stepped up to the podium at the front of the room, his posture straightening further, his previous role as simple escort dissolving into one of professional authority. The atmosphere became instantly formal, shifting from the overwhelming presence of Netero to the quiet, focused competence of his secretary. The room fell silent; the coordinated pair who had won the previous phase sat attentively in their chairs, their focus absolute. I mirrored their posture, pushing aside my internal analyses and awe for now, ready to listen.
"As newly licensed Hunters," Beans began, his voice crisp, precise, and devoid of unnecessary inflection, "you are now privy to certain privileges and responsibilities that are unique to your status." He gestured towards a plain, sample Hunter License card he produced seemingly from nowhere, holding it up for us to see. It looked simple enough, like a standard ID card, but I knew its true value. "This card," he stated, his voice gaining a quiet emphasis, "grants unparalleled access. Access to facilities and restricted zones unavailable to civilians – nearly ninety percent of countries worldwide recognize its authority, granting you passage, exemptions, and permissions that others can only dream of."
The sheer scope of that privilege hit me again, even knowing it intellectually from the series. Access almost anywhere. The ability to bypass conventional laws and restrictions. Information. Freedom. Power. It was a key to unlocking the world.
"It also grants access," Beans continued, his tone becoming notably sterner, the air in the room tightening slightly, "to the Hunter-exclusive website. This is a secure network containing mission postings from governments and private clients across the globe, access to secure databases on everything from dangerous Magical Beasts to ancient ruins and historical records, and communication networks vital for coordinating with other Hunters and the Hunter Association. Information is a Hunter's greatest tool."
And greatest weapon, I added mentally, the thought sharp and clear. That website alone was a treasure trove of knowledge and opportunity that Anon in his past life would have killed for, a gateway to the hidden information of the world.
Beans placed the sample card down carefully on the podium, his gaze sweeping over the three of us, sharp and direct. "However, understand this clearly: The Hunter Association does not reissue lost or stolen licenses. Ever." His voice was flat, absolute. "Guard it with your life. Its value on the black market is astronomical, attracting thieves and worse, individuals who would kill for the privileges it grants. Its loss is permanent and removes all associated privileges. Consider it a vital organ. You cannot function without it." The message was unambiguous, delivered with chilling clarity. Protect the card, or lose everything you've just gained. Right, I thought, the weight of the upcoming responsibility settling in. Mental note: devise a secure, highly reliable way to carry this thing at all times.
He then spoke briefly about the inherent challenges of the profession, his tone matter-of-fact. "The life of a Hunter is one of significant challenge and risk. You will face difficult situations – human, beast, and environmental – far exceeding those encountered during this exam. Success often requires venturing into the unknown and confronting lethal threats. Proceed with caution, adequate preparation, and a clear understanding of the risks involved." He didn't elaborate further, didn't need to. The implication was clear. Becoming a Hunter wasn't just about gaining power and privilege; it was about stepping onto a path that demanded constant vigilance.
Throughout the briefing, as expected based on my memory of the canon orientation, there was absolutely no mention of Nen, aura, or any of the hidden powers that truly defined the Hunter world. The Hunter Association guarded its deepest secrets well, revealing them only through direct mentorship, or to those who discovered it themselves, never in a general orientation for new recruits. But I know the truth, I thought. This license is just the start. The real test, the one that determines if you're a real Hunter capable of surviving out there, is learning Nen. It's the secret second exam, and you won't get far without it.
"That concludes the preliminary briefing," Beans announced, his posture relaxing fractionally, seemingly satisfied we had absorbed the key points and warnings. He picked up three official licenses from the podium, their plastic glinting under the light. "I will now distribute your Hunter Licenses. Please step forward when your name is called."
He looked at the first card. "Applicant Number 88, Lukas Hoffman." The tall blonde man stood, walked forward stiffly, accepted his license with a curt, efficient nod, and returned to his seat, his focus unwavering.
"Applicant Number 89, Clara Hoffman." The dark-haired woman followed, her movements precise and economical, taking her license with the same stoic composure, her sharp eyes briefly meeting Beans's before she rejoined Lukas.
Hoffman. They shared the same last name. Interesting. As suspected, they were a coordinated unit, their different appearances suggesting not twins, but their synchronicity indicating a long-standing, deeply ingrained partnership. Their consecutive applicant numbers, 88 and 89, confirmed they had arrived together at the very start of the exam.
"Applicant Number 143, Kess Kobayashi." My turn. I stood, walked to the podium, trying to project the same calm confidence I didn't entirely feel internally. My heart was beating a little faster now. Beans handed me the card. It felt surprisingly light, just a piece of laminated plastic, cool to the touch, yet holding it felt momentous. The tangible proof. Years of training, a lifetime of memory, culminating in this single object. Kess Kobayashi, officially a Hunter.
After I returned to my seat, securing the card carefully in an inner pocket, Beans concluded the orientation. "That is all. Welcome, officially, to the ranks of Hunters. Your journey begins now."
We filed out of the room together. In the polished corridor outside, we paused instinctively, turning slightly to face each other. Lukas and Clara Hoffman looked at me, their expressions neutral but acknowledging, a silent recognition of the shared ordeal and shared success. I met their gaze and offered a slight nod of respect – earned, I felt, through the brutal winnowing of the past few days. They returned the nod in unison before turning and walking down the corridor together, moving with practiced synchronicity, a single, unified unit even in simple movement.
I stood alone in the polished corridor for a moment, the vastness of the Hunter Association Headquarters stretching around me. I looked down at the Hunter License in my hand, pulling it out again to examine it under the bright lights. A deep sigh escaped me – not of exhaustion this time, but of pure, unadulterated relief, mixed with a surge of profound accomplishment. The tension I hadn't even fully realized I was carrying since leaving Ryujinshima finally dissipated. It wasn't about the exam's difficulty – which, for me, had been manageable thanks to Dad's training – it was about reaching this point, the official starting line of the rest of my life in this world. I was officially a Hunter.
A small smile touched my lips, genuine and bright. First step: return home to Ryujinshima. Tell Mom and Dad. They would be worried, but hopefully proud. Then... plan. Twelve years stretched before me, a vast expanse of opportunity, yet it felt like no time at all when considering the scale of the events I knew were coming. The prospect of days without Dad's demanding training schedule, without his direct supervision, felt strangely awkward, almost like a missing limb. I'd need to structure my own path now, maintain my own discipline, decide what kind of Hunter I wanted to be and how I would use this incredible new status.
But first, home. The journey here had been the prologue. The true journey, the path of Kess Kobayashi, Hunter, was just beginning.