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'…' Thought
"…" speech
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"Call - letters -fight Scene .... son long chapter ahead "
Biscuit Krueger's POV – Phone Call with Netero
Biscuit sat on the edge of the bed, phone pressed to her ear, legs swinging slightly as she exhaled sharply. She had so many things to say.
After a few rings, the line clicked.
"Bisky~! To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"You know exactly why I'm calling."
"Hehehe, do I? I'm just an old man minding his own business."
"Oh, cut the act, you old troll! The adoption thing?! Really?!"
Netero let out a belly laugh. "Ohhh, so Ging fell for it? Priceless! Tell me, did he cry? Was there a heartfelt moment?"
Biscuit clenched her fist. "I woke up to an eleven-year-old looking at me like I was his long-lost daughter! He was proud, Netero! He was making plans for my future! He told Insert he had to be a 'good uncle'!"
Netero was wheezing now. "Ahhh, I haven't had this much fun in ages!"
Biscuit growled. "Chairman."
"Alright, alright, I'll take responsibility—"
"Damn right you will."
"—by letting you deal with it. Have fun!"Click.
Biscuit stared at her phone in disbelief.
"...That bastard."
Biscuit rubbed her temples, took a deep breath, and called Netero again.
The old man answered immediately, sounding way too pleased with himself. "Miss me already, Bisky?"
"Shut up and listen. I'm actually calling about the mission this time."
"Oh? So you're finally done complaining about the adoption prank?"
"We'll get back to that later." She sighed. "I found your two rookie Hunters. And let me tell you… they're something else."
"Oh-ho? Do tell."
"First off, Ging. He's a genius. There's no denying it. When it comes to Nen, combat, analysis—he picks things up faster than anyone I've ever seen. But he's also reckless, arrogant, and has the self-preservation instincts of a rabid ferret."
Netero chuckled. "Sounds about right."
"His fighting style is unpredictable and creative, and he's already developing advanced techniques. But the real problem? He has zero concern for consequences. He just does whatever pops into his head without thinking about what comes next."
"Heh. That's what makes him fun."
"That's what makes him stupid & dangerous."
Netero hummed. "And what about Insert?"
Biscuit leaned back against the wall. "Insert is… different. Not as naturally gifted as Ging in raw combat, but he makes up for it with sheer adaptability and planning. He actually thinks things through, which is why they work so well together—Insert is the brakes to Ging's out-of-control engine."
"Hmmm… Interesting dynamic."
"But don't let that fool you. Insert can be just as crazy, just in a different way. He has an incredible instinct for survival and manipulation. He's always looking at the bigger picture, figuring out ways to turn situations in his favor. It's not just that he's smart—he's opportunistic in a way that's almost scary."
Netero chuckled again. "So you like them."
"What?"
"Come on, Bisky. You wouldn't be this worked up if you didn't think they had potential."
Biscuit scoffed, crossing her arms. "Potential doesn't mean they aren't brats. But yeah, fine. They're the real deal. If they don't get themselves killed first, they could be monsters."
Netero was silent for a moment, then sighed. "Good. Keep an eye on them, will you?"
"You're just making this my problem, aren't you?"
"Of course. Have fun with your new 'family,' Bisky~"Click.
Biscuit groaned, throwing herself onto the bed.
"...I swear, I'm gonna kill that old man one day."
The moment Netero hung up on her, Biscuit saw red.
Her fingers moved on their own, furiously redialing his number. It rang once. Twice.
Then—
"You have reached the esteemed Chairman—"
"DON'T YOU 'ESTEEMED CHAIRMAN' ME, YOU SHRIVELED OLD RAISIN!" Biscuit roared the moment he picked up. "HOW DARE YOU HANG UP ON ME?!"
"Ah, Biscuit! My dear, I thought our business was concluded!"
"Oh, IT'S NOT! Not until I get what I deserve, you smug, senile—!" She cut herself off before her insults became physically manifest through the phone. "I DEMAND COMPENSATION."*
"Compensation? Whatever for?"
"FOR THE FACT THAT I HAVE HAD TO ENDURE TWO WEEKS OF CHAOS! TWO! WEEKS!"
"Ah, so you're admitting it was fun?"
"I AM ADMITTING THAT I NOW HAVE STRESS-INDUCED GRAY HAIRS!"
"Oh, now that I'd love to see."
"I SWEAR TO ALL THAT IS HOLY, NETERO, I WILL BURY YOU IN THE RUBBLE OF YOUR OWN DAMN DOJO!"*
"Hoh? A spar, perhaps? You know, I've been looking for a new training partner—"
"I DON'T WANT TO FIGHT YOU, I WANT MY DAMN SAPPHIRE!"
A pause. Then, in a mocking tone—"Oh? That old thing? Now why would I part with such a rare and valuable gem?"
Biscuit's grip on the phone nearly cracked it in half. "Because if you don't, I will personally come over there, crush every single hair on your beard into powder, and then force-feed it to you, you crusty old MONKEY!"*
A deep, thoughtful hum. "…Hoh. You are mad."
"SAPPHIRE. NOW."*
"…Fine."
"Good. Expect me never to answer one of your calls again."
"Oh, Bisky. We both know that's a lie."
Click.
Netero stared at the phone in his hand, a slow grin spreading across his face.
"Well, well… She really was mad, huh?"
With a chuckle, he leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling of his office. He'd expected some backlash from Biscuit, but this? This was a full-blown natural disaster aimed directly at him.
But… worth it.
Oh, so worth it.
The idea of sending Biscuit after those two had been a stroke of genius. Not only did it entertain him immensely, but it also ensured they got proper training. He'd been keeping tabs—those two brats were learning at record speed. Ging's wild talent, Insert's resourcefulness… Those two are going to be terrifying one day.
And now? Now they had Biscuit keeping them in check.
Netero snickered to himself. "Or trying to, at least."
But, of course, no great joke came without a price.
With a sigh, he opened a locked drawer and pulled out a small, very expensive-looking sapphire.
"Hmph. Even at my age, I still have to pay for my entertainment."
He stared at the gem for a moment before chuckling again. "Well, let's be honest. This is a bargain."*
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Letter from Ging to Mito & Granny
Hey little Mito, Auntie,
Still alive. Still causing trouble. But at least this time, it's productive trouble.
Insert and I are at the Sky Arena right now, fighting our way up, making money, and somehow not getting banned (yet). We've got a nice setup—big rooms, free food, and a decent stash of money. It's honestly kind of like a vacation, except we punch people for a living.
Now, before you ask when we're coming back… uh, about that. We're going to be busy for a while. Training, fighting, making connections, and, well… doing Hunter stuff. Basically, we're giving ourselves a year to get stronger and set things up for the future. By the time we return, we'll have something solid to show for it. Hopefully, that makes up for the extended absence.
Take care of yourselves, and don't worry—we won't die. (At least, I won't. Insert's got a habit of overthinking, so he might stress himself into an early grave.)
We'll write again when we can.
—Ging
P.S. If anyone tries to claim I'm being responsible, please correct them.
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Letter from Insert to Mito & Granny
Dear Mito & Granny,
Hope you're both doing well. Just writing to let you know that Ging and I are not dead, not in jail, and not causing a diplomatic incident (yet). We're currently at the Sky Arena, making money and improving our skills. Things are going well—better than expected, honestly.
Now, about visiting… we're kind of caught up in a long-term plan. We've decided to spend the next year training, fighting, and setting up some future projects. That means we won't be back for a while, but it's not because we're avoiding you. (Okay, maybe Ging is, but I swear I'm not.)
We'll check in from time to time, and I promise we'll come back stronger, richer, and hopefully wiser (though I can't promise that for Ging). In the meantime, take care, and don't let anyone trick you into thinking we've grown up completely.
—Insert
P.S. If Ging sends a letter promising "big things coming," just assume it's chaos.
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Mito's POV After Reading the Letters
Mito, at eight years old, sat at the table with her arms crossed, staring at the two letters like they had personally offended her. Which, in a way, they had.
She knew they weren't coming back anytime soon. She wasn't dumb. But still—an entire year?
She puffed out her cheeks in frustration.
Granny, sitting nearby, chuckled. "You look mad."
"I am mad," Mito huffed. "They should've at least asked if I wanted anything from Sky Arena!"
Granny laughed harder. "That's what bothers you?"
Mito pouted, picking up Insert's letter again. His was nicer, at least. He actually explained what they were doing, how they were making money, and sort of apologized for not coming back yet.
Ging's, on the other hand…
"If anyone tries to claim I'm being responsible, please correct them."
Mito's eye twitched. "I'm definitely beating him up when he gets back."
Granny nodded sagely. "That's the spirit."
Mito sighed, folding the letters and stuffing them into her pocket. Fine. They could go do their dumb Hunter stuff. But when they did come back, they owed her a lot of gifts.
And maybe some good stories, too.
"...Think they'll send more letters?"
Granny smirked. "Only if you threaten them."
Mito grinned. "Good idea."
Meanwhile…
Ging and Insert walked into the 200th-floor waiting area, expecting a normal registration. Instead, they were immediately surrounded by Sky Arena staff and a few other fighters with suspicious grins.
Insert: (Deadpan) "I don't like this."
Ging: (Smirking) "What? The grand welcome? Yeah, me neither. Too formal."
(One of the staff members, a middle-aged man in a suit, stepped forward, holding out a contract.)
Official:
"Congratulations on making it to the 200th floor! However, due to… certain circumstances, your first match has been assigned as a cooperative battle. You'll be fighting together against a team of two seasoned 200th-floor fighters. If you refuse, you forfeit."
Ging: "That doesn't sound suspicious at all."
Insert: "Most likely retribution for the sh*t we did before , This means if we lose, we only have two more losses left before we're out."
Ging: "Which means... we just have to win."
They both signed the contract. As they were led into the arena, Insert discreetly tapped on his smart app, placing a hefty anonymous bet on their victory. The odds? 1 to 13.5. Ging noticed and grinned.
Ging: "Smart. Easy money."
The lights dimmed, and the announcer's voice boomed throughout the Sky Arena.
Commentator:"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome back to Sky Arena! And what a night we have ahead of us! For the first time in history, the 200th floor will welcome not one, but TWO of the youngest contestants EVER to step foot on this level!"
Co-Commentator:"That's right! We've seen prodigies before, but these two? They've been tearing through the competition like a storm! Let's talk about them individually—starting with the wild card himself, the one and only… 'Sonic the Hedgehog,' Ging!"
Commentator:"And let me tell you, folks—this nickname isn't just for show! He's fast, unpredictable, and somehow always finds a way to make things more chaotic than they need to be! Whether it's running circles around his opponents or somehow talking them into their own downfall, this kid is dangerous!"
Co-Commentator:"And then there's the perfect contrast—his partner-in-crime, a fighter who's all about efficiency, precision, and complete control over the battle… We're talking about 'Little Silence' himself—Insert!"
Commentator:"A fitting nickname, if you ask me. Unlike Ging, who never stops moving or talking, Insert barely speaks during his matches. But don't let that fool you—his cold, calculated style has left opponent after opponent completely overwhelmed before they even realize what happened!"
Co-Commentator:"Two totally different styles, yet both completely unstoppable in their own ways. And tonight, folks, we get to see if these two rising stars can handle the legendary 200th floor!"
Commentator:"One thing's for sure—Sky Arena has never seen anything like them before! Stay tuned, because history is about to be made!"
Ging and Insert entered the arena under less-than-ideal circumstances. Their first fight on the 200th floor wasn't a standard one-on-one match—it was a cooperative fight against two veteran Enhancers.
Of course, that just made it more exciting.
Their opponents, the Twin Fangs, were both straightforward brawlers but with raw Enhancer power backing them up. Rudo, the taller of the two, was built like a moving wall of muscle, while Mesk had a leaner frame but wielded massive steel gauntlets shaped like claws. Their strategy was obvious—overwhelm and crush.
(Too bad for them. Ging and Insert weren't exactly normal fighters.)
The match began with Rudo charging Ging like a rampaging bull, his entire body glowing with violent aura. At the same time, Mesk lunged at Insert, his gauntlets vibrating with nen, ready to rip through flesh like paper.
Ging, standing still, gripped the handle of his katana. He didn't move until the very last second.
SHING!
A single step forward. A flash of steel. And suddenly—Rudo stopped.
(He wasn't hit—no visible wound. But his charge had been completely neutralized. He took a step back, visibly shaken.)
Insert, on the other hand, didn't bother dodging. He merely raised his staff—a seemingly ordinary wooden pole—to meet Mesk's claws head-on. Instead of being cut apart, the pole absorbed the force, dispersing the impact through his own aura.
Then, in one swift motion, Insert twisted his grip, swung the pole downward, and—
BAM!
Mesk barely managed to block the downward strike with both arms, but the ground beneath him cracked from the sheer force.
He slid backward, shaking his arms, trying to recover from the impact.
Rudo exhaled sharply, re-centering himself. His aura surged, covering his entire body like a protective shell. He realized now—Ging's nen wasn't stronger than his, but it was precise. Too precise. The katana wasn't meant to cut—it was meant to interrupt.
Mesk, meanwhile, reinforced his gauntlets, shifting to a more aggressive stance. He had underestimated Insert's strength. That wouldn't happen again.
(Both fighters attacked at the same time.)
Rudo threw a full-force punch, aiming to shatter Ging's guard in one blow. But before his fist connected—
SHING!
Ging's katana grazed his knuckle—just a tiny cut.
It should've been nothing. It should've been harmless. But Rudo suddenly felt his strength vanish. His aura fluctuated wildly, and his fist lost momentum.
A faint smirk appeared on Ging's face as he stepped inside Rudo's guard.
Ging: "Oops. Looks like you lost control for a second."
Then, without warning, he slammed the pommel of his katana into Rudo's gut.
THUD!
The force sent Rudo skidding across the arena. He barely stayed on his feet, but his body trembled. He didn't understand—how had a mere graze weakened his nen flow?
That was Ging's trick—his katana was coated in a specialized nen disruption aura. "STUN" He didn't need to cut deep—just a single touch was enough to throw off his opponent's control over their own aura.
Rudo gritted his teeth. This was bad.
Mesk vanished from sight, his speed-enhanced aura making him move in blurs. He struck from behind—only for Insert to casually swing his staff backward, blocking it without even looking.
Frustrated, Mesk unleashed a rapid barrage of slashes, each strike powerful enough to tear steel apart. Insert didn't dodge. He didn't move. He parried every single one with the pole, redirecting the force like it was nothing.
Then, with a single tap of his foot, Insert launched himself upward—his pole extended mid-air, lengthening rapidly as he spun it around.
Mesk's eyes widened—what the hell was that?!
Insert: "Too slow."
With a final swing, the staff's now-extended form came crashing down, slamming into Mesk's shoulder like a falling tree. The impact sent him flying, embedding him into the arena wall.
Rudo and Mesk were barely standing now. They had tried everything, but these "rookies" were monsters.
Ging sheathed his katana with a soft click.
Insert shrunk his staff back to normal size, resting it on his shoulder.
Ging: "I think that's enough, don't you?"
Rudo and Mesk charged one last time—desperation in their eyes. But before they could even finish their attacks…
Ging's katana was already at Rudo's neck.
Insert's pole was already pressed against Mesk's throat.
Silence. The fight was over.
Post-Match – Aftermath
(The crowd erupted into a mix of cheers and disbelief. The so-called "rookies" had crushed their first fight on the 200th floor without breaking a sweat.)
(The crowd is still roaring after the match. The arena screens show slow-motion replays of Insert and Ging with a massive grin. The two youngest fighters to ever reach the 200th floor stand in the center of the ring, barely looking tired, as a reporter rushes in to capture the moment.)
Reporter:"Ladies and gentlemen, history has been made tonight! The youngest fighters ever to reach the 200th floor—no, dominate to the 200th floor—are standing right here! Give it up for 'Sonic' Ging and 'Little Silence' Insert!"
(The audience erupts into cheers and chants of their nicknames. Ging waves enthusiastically, while Insert simply nods, arms crossed.)
Reporter: "First off, congratulations! You two just proved that age doesn't mean a thing when it comes to skill! How does it feel to win in such a decisive fashion?"
Ging: (Grinning) "Feels great! But honestly, I thought they'd be tougher. I mean, this is the 200th floor, right? Shouldn't they have at least tried to keep up?"
(The audience laughs, while Insert sighs quietly beside him.)
Insert: "They did try. You just kept talking and distracting them."
Ging: "Tactics, my friend. Tactics."
Reporter: (Chuckling) "You both made it look way too easy. Speaking of tactics—Insert, you barely said a word during the entire match, just like in your previous fights. Some people are calling you 'The Silent Executioner.' What's your strategy out there?"
Insert: "It's simple. If you don't give away your intentions, they can't react properly. The less I speak, the less they can predict me."
Ging: (Leaning into the mic) "Which is super annoying, by the way. I swear, half the time I don't even know what he's planning."
(More laughter from the crowd.)
Reporter: "And yet, you two work incredibly well together! It's rare to see such different fighting styles complement each other so perfectly. What's the secret to your teamwork?"
Ging: "Oh, that's easy—Insert yells at me to stop doing dumb things, and I completely ignore him!"
(Insert closes his eyes briefly, as if contemplating all of his life choices leading up to this moment.)
Insert: "I don't yell. I advise. He just refuses to listen."
Reporter: (Laughing) "Well, whatever it is, it's clearly working! Now, what's next for you two? Any plans after conquering the 200th floor?"
Ging: "First, we're gonna find a way to make a lot more money. Then, maybe we'll start taking over the world. Y'know, little goals."
Insert: "More training. More fights. And maybe stopping Ging from getting us thrown out of this place."
Reporter: "Well, whatever you do next, I have no doubt it'll be explosive! Once again, congratulations to the youngest warriors to ever claim victory here at Sky Arena! Give it up for Ging and Insert!"
(The crowd erupts in cheers once more as Ging and Insert leave the stage, heading toward whatever chaos they'll inevitably cause next.)
Back in their room, Insert checked their smart app. The bets had gone through. Their payout had turned their money into 13 billions zeni "87 million USD"
Ging: "Sooooo… how much did we win?"
Insert: "Enough to start making investements, we will have 200 MZ a month ."1.34 million USD".
Ging grinned. This was just the beginning.