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'…' Thought
"…" speech
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Another week passed, and now both Gings and I are going for Floor Master. After looking into it, I have to say—the perks are actually pretty good. You get about 1% of the Sky Arena's revenue each month. Now, that's nowhere near the kind of money Gings and I are pulling in, but it's still enough for three generations to live comfortably without lifting a finger. The payout keeps coming as long as you hold the title, and if you win the Sky Olympia, that percentage jumps to 2%.
But more than the money, it's about status. Your face gets printed on your floor, plastered on posters—it's great for vain people. You also get sponsorships, commercial deals, and suddenly, local authorities start seeing you as someone worth knowing. For us, though? It's more about convenience. A place to crash, free food, and a base of operations whenever we need it. Might as well take the title if it's up for grabs.
We ran some tests on our Pokémon, and for now, their moves are pretty basic. Chimchar's got Scratch, Leer, and Ember, while Ralts has Growl, Double Team, and Disarming Voice. Not exactly game-changers yet, but they'll get there eventually. Surprisingly ? They do eat a lot.
Ralts mostly sticks to honey, berries, and fruit, while Chimchar's all about hot food—banana pancakes, spiced curry, anything with a kick. And no, they're not nen beasts anymore. They've become full-fledged biological creatures, which means, in theory… you could eat Chimchar. But Ralts? Yeah, I dare anyone to even suggest that out loud.
When it comes to money, we're still a little short, but we've already contacted the sellers, and they were beyond thrilled. They even pulled some strings and got me recommended for a One-Star Hunter. Turns out, having a bank account with around 1 trillion as a Jackpot Hunter makes things a lot easier.
Gings, on the other hand, still hasn't explored any ruins, so he's completely starless. That fact pissed him off enough that he swore to go on an expedition immediately—only to come back 15 minutes later
As I finished up the call with the sellers, Gings stormed into the room, arms crossed, scowling like he just lost a bet.
"This is rigged," he huffed. "How do you get a star before me?!"
I barely looked up from my phone. "Because I'm the one handling the business and the money, dumbass."
He clicked his tongue. "Well, I can go raid a ruin right now and get mine. Watch me."
I waved him off. "Go for it. Just don't come back… hey you need your license for that , you know."
Silence. I counted mentally.
One.
Two.
Three—
"Shit."
Gings stood there, brows furrowed, clearly debating if he should admit defeat or double down. He went with the latter.
"Fine. Where's my Hunter License?"
I leaned back, grinning. "Dunno. Maybe you left it with your pride back at the entrance exam?"
Mr. WW, ever the instigator, chose this moment to chime in. His voice blared from my phone:
"Mr. Worldwide reporting in! Looks like our local wannabe explorer forgot his passport! Ay dios mío!"
Gings groaned. "Shut up."
I smirked, scrolling through my phone. "You know, I can just make you an AI assistant to help keep track of your stuff."
He scoffed. "I already have a monkey to take care of."
At that, Chimchar—perched on his shoulder—chirped and stuck his tongue out at him.
Gings sighed, rubbing his temple. "I swear, if I don't get a star soon, I'm going to punch Netero."
"Yeah, yeah," I laughed. "Get in line.But do you want one though , do you know what it does??"
Gings frowned at me, arms still crossed. "Of course I know what it does."
I raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Enlighten me, oh wise one."
He hesitated. "Uh… It shows you're, you know… important?"
I sighed, shaking my head. "That's what I thought. You just want one because I got one first."
"No!" he protested, but his voice lacked conviction.
Mr. WW, ever the agent of chaos, chimed in. "Breaking news! Man-child throws tantrum after best friend achieves success first!"
Gings shot the phone a glare. "I swear I'll delete you."
Mr. WW didn't miss a beat. "You can't delete me, chico. I'm forever. Dale!"
I snorted. "Anyway, back to the actual point—having a star lets you get access to classified missions, high-level jobs, and you can even apply for special permits. You could probably get funding for an expedition, or recognition in historical research, get your name in the books if you actually wanted to do that."
Gings seemed to consider this, rubbing his chin. "So... I could get paid to go dig through ruins?"
I nodded. "Basically, yeah."
His eyes gleamed. "Why the hell didn't anyone tell me this sooner?!"
Chimchar smacked his forehead in what I could only assume was secondhand embarrassment.
"Because," I said, "you never asked. You just wanted to flex."
He ignored me, pacing now. "Alright, so I just need to do something 'noteworthy' to get a star. Fine. I'll just go find some ruins, solve an ancient mystery, and get my damn star."
I gave him a deadpan look. "Oh yeah, just like that? 'Find some ruins' like they're laying around the corner store?"
"They have to be somewhere," he grumbled.
Mr. WW chimed in again, smug as ever. "Did you try looking under the couch? Or maybe inside your thick skull?"
I patted him on the shoulder. "Face it, man. You're stuck with us, just focus on the damn fights first."
Just as Gings was about to start another rant, Mr. WW interrupted with a dramatic "Bzzzt! Incoming transmission, caballeros!"
We both turned to the phone as the AI continued, "Guess who just found a list of possible unexplored ruins that even novices like you two can handle?"
Gings narrowed his eyes. "Wait, what? You serious?"
"Serious as a heart attack, papi "Mr. WW's voice was practically oozing with smugness. "I ran a cross-check through various Hunter Association logs, archaeological surveys, and some ahem slightly classified expedition failures—turns out, there are at least three minor ruins that haven't been fully explored yet. No one's even registered them as officially discovered."
I crossed my arms. "And let me guess, they're in the middle of nowhere?"
"Bingo, chico! Two in the Azian region, one near the Mitene Union border."
Gings practically snatched the phone from my hands. "Show me."
A digital map popped up, marking three locations with flashing red dots. Mr. WW added, "These ruins aren't big enough to interest the top-tier hunters, but they're just forgotten enough that if you make a proper discovery, the Association will have to acknowledge it."
I raised an eyebrow. "And you're sure nobody's touched these?"
"Not officially, no. Some poachers and illegal diggers might have snooped around, but no registered hunter has claimed a find there. That means if you go in, document something significant, and report it first—boom! Instant credibility."
Gings grinned. "Perfect. Looks like I am getting my star after all."
I sighed. "You do realize we still have to fight for floor master first, right?"
He waved me off. "Yeah, yeah, I'll beat up some guys first. Then we go treasure hunting."
Mr. WW added, "Ooh, treasure hunting! Can I play the theme from Indiana Jones?"
Gings smirked. "Only if I get a whip."
I rolled my eyes. "No whips. Just focus on winning your fight first, Indiana Gings, But seriously, why ruins? You could just fight a bunch of strong guys, get a reputation, and the Association would eventually give you a star for bounty hunting. Why go the archaeologist route?"
Gings leaned back, tossing a banana chip to Chimchar, who caught it mid-air. "You wouldn't get it."
I crossed my arms. "Try me."
He sighed, cracking his neck before answering. "It's not just about the star. I actually like ruins, okay? They're like…" He waved his hands vaguely. "Forgotten knowledge, things left behind. People think history is all about kings, wars, and fancy artifacts, but there's so much more than that. It's like reading an unfinished book—except the ending is buried somewhere, waiting for the right idiot to dig it up."
I tilted my head. "So, you wanna be that idiot?"
Gings grinned. "Damn right I do. There's stuff out there that could completely change how we see the world. Nen techniques lost to time, civilizations that might've known more about the Dark Continent than we do now. Hell, what if we find proof that humans weren't always stuck in Mobius Lake? That maybe—just maybe—we could leave like that grandpa of mine?"
I paused, considering it. "So, it's less about the star and more about the thrill of uncovering something big?"
He smirked. "Pretty much. Plus, let's be honest—getting rich off ancient loot doesn't sound too bad either."
I sighed. "So, you're a treasure hunter with a historical curiosity."
Mr. WW cut in with a dramatic "More like Dora the Explorer, but with less singing and more property damage."
Gings threw a banana peel at the phone. "Shut up, Bito."
I chuckled. "Alright, fine. After the floor master fights, we'll go ruin-diving. But if it's just a pile of old rocks, I'm calling you out on this nonsense."
He smirked. "Deal. But if I do find something crazy, you owe me an apology."
Mr. WW added, "And a theme song! I'm thinking something heroic, maybe with trumpets!"
I shook my head. "Let's just survive the fights first."
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Insert vs. Floor Master: The Dance of Air
The Sky Arena was packed tonight. The crowd roared, their voices bouncing off the high walls as Insert stepped onto the 251st floor ring. Across from him stood Hale Vendrell, a veteran Floor Master—tall, lean, and wrapped in loose robes that fluttered despite the lack of wind.
Something felt… off.
Insert planted his feet, gripping his Power Pole, its weight familiar in his hands. He focused, extending Gyo over his eyes to read Hale's Nen. His opponent was already coated in aura, but something was strange—it wasn't concentrated around his fists or feet like most Enhancers or Transmuters. Instead, it swirled subtly around him, as if it were moving on its own.
The referee's voice cut through the noise: "FIGHT!"
Hale vanished.
No, not vanished—moved.
Insert barely had time to raise his pole before a sudden pressure hit his left side. A split second later, a fist hammered into his ribs, sending him skidding back. He managed to pivot, absorbing the impact with his pole, but his entire side ached from the single strike.
Fast.
No—slippery.
Hale moved like a shadow in the wind, darting forward with another blurred step, his palm thrusting toward Insert's solar plexus. Insert barely blocked, twisting his pole to absorb the impact, but the air itself seemed to push against him.
There it is.
He wasn't just fast—he was manipulating the air.
Hale smirked. "Figured it out?"
Insert tightened his grip. "Kind of. It's not just speed—you're controlling air pressure to assist your movements. Makes it harder to read your attacks."
Hale's smirk widened. "Close. But you're only seeing the first layer."
He raised his hands, and suddenly, Insert felt his lungs tighten—the air around him thickened, like invisible hands pressing down on his shoulders, his chest.
He's not just using air pressure to move—he's controlling it around me too.
Insert tried to step forward, but the force resisted him. It wasn't like an Enhancer's raw strength—it was subtle, like walking against an invisible current. His movements felt lagged, as if the air itself was turning against him.
Hale took advantage of the hesitation, darting in. Insert barely managed to deflect the first strike, but the second one landed clean on his jaw, making his vision blur for a second.
I can't just fight normally—I need to break his control.
Insert exhaled, switching gears. If air was his enemy, then he'd have to ignore it.
He shifted his stance, lowering his center of gravity, gripping his Power Pole tightly. Instead of pushing through the pressure, he'd ride it.
Hale dashed forward—his biggest mistake.
Insert twisted with the air flow, making Hale's own manipulation work against him. The pressure that slowed Insert before now helped accelerate his movement, and with a single sharp step, he closed the distance faster than Hale expected.
Hale's eyes widened—too late.
Insert's pole shot forward like a spear, extending at the last moment. Hale barely had time to throw up his arm to block, but the sheer force sent him flying back, crashing against the ring floor.
The crowd erupted.
Hale rolled to his feet, wiping blood from his lip. His expression was no longer amused—it was focused.
"Smart. You're using my own pressure waves against me."
Insert spun his pole, adjusting his stance. "You rely on controlling movement—so if I stop resisting and move with your flow, I can turn it to my advantage."
Hale exhaled, then smiled. "Then I'll just have to stop holding back."
The air exploded.
A sudden vacuum formed around Insert, stealing the oxygen from his lungs. His ears popped, and his body instinctively screamed for air.
A sudden change in pressure—he's suffocating me.
Hale blurred again, but this time, Insert was ready. He focused all his aura into his pole, then slammed it into the ground.
BOOM!
The force shattered the stone beneath them, sending up a cloud of debris—disrupting the air pressure.
Insert surged forward through the broken vacuum, catching Hale off guard. A feint left, a real strike right. The pole whipped through the opening, catching Hale in the ribs.
Another crack echoed.
Hale staggered, gasping. The technique required delicate balance—if he lost control for even a second, it backfired. And Insert had just made him lose control.
Now.
Insert twisted his pole, pulling back for the final strike.
Hale grinned.
Insert felt his stomach drop—something was wrong.
Hale's aura flared violently.
He had let Insert hit him on purpose.
A sudden, deafening shockwaverippled outward, sending Insert flying as if a bomb had gone off point-blank.
He crashed into the ring's far edge, coughing as he felt his ribs bruise.
Hale wiped blood from his mouth. "Took a gamble there. But now you see the final layer of my ability."
Insert forced himself up, pole in hand. "Yeah. You store up all the air pressure from our fight, then release it all at once. Like a shockwave bomb."
Hale cracked his knuckles. "Exactly. So the real question is... can you handle another one?"
Insert smirked, spinning his pole. "Guess we'll find out."
The match wasn't over yet.
Insert exhaled sharply, steadying himself as his muscles burned from the previous shockwave. Hale stood at the other end of the ring, rolling his shoulders, the faintest smirk playing on his lips.
So he absorbs air pressure throughout the fight, then expels it in one massive shockwave… Insert thought, gripping his Power Pole tighter. That means the longer the fight goes, the more dangerous he becomes.
The worst part? Insert had been the one accelerating it. Every strike, every counter, every movement had contributed to his power. If this kept going, he'd eventually unleash a shockwave big enough to end the match in one hit.
I can't let him build up any more pressure. I have to end this now.
He inhaled, shifting into a lower stance, centering his aura along his arms and through his weapon. He had been testing different Nen applications in the Sky Arena, and it was time to use them.
Hale noticed the change. His eyes narrowed slightly. "Trying something new?"
Insert smirked. "Something like that."
Hale launched forward, riding the wind, closing the distance in an instant. Insert didn't move—he simply waited. At the last moment, just as Hale's fist was about to connect—
He vanished.
No—he dropped below Hale's field of vision.
A technique he had refined from fighting speed-based opponents in the past. By lowering his stance and kicking off with a sharp, controlled burst of aura, Insert used the force to slip underneath Hale's attack without resistance—like a leaf riding the wind.
Hale's fist struck empty air.
Too late.
Insert's pole was already swinging upward.
WHAM!
The strike landed flush against Hale's ribs, sending him skidding backward, the air whipping violently around him as he lost his balance. The force should have been enough to knock most fighters out instantly, but Hale had reinforced himself with Ken, dampening the damage.
Tough bastard.
Hale barely had time to breathe before Insert followed up, launching himself forward, pole spinning.
Phase two.
Hale prepared to counter, adjusting the air pressure to slow Insert's approach—but that was the trap.
Insert had coated the tip of his pole in Ko, condensing all his aura into a single strike. The moment Hale moved to redirect the air around him, Insert thrust forward.
BOOM!
The sheer force of the impact disrupted Hale's control over the air. His ability required precise management of atmospheric pressure, but the sudden shock messed with his balance. For the first time, his Nen flickered.
Insert saw it—the opening.
"This is checkmate."
He adjusted his grip and spun the pole one last time, using the recoil from the previous attack to chain into a full-force horizontal strike.
Hale tried to regain control, but the earlier attack had forced him to expend his stored-up air pressure to stabilize himself.
He had nothing left to defend with.
The pole connected.
The sound of wood meeting flesh and bone echoed through the arena. Hale's body twisted mid-air before slamming into the ring floor, a crater forming beneath him.
Silence.
The referee blinked, stunned. Then, after a few beats, he raised his hand.
"The winner: INSERT!"
The arena erupted.
After the match, Insert sat on the ring's edge, rolling his shoulders. Hale groaned, rubbing his side as he sat up.
"Not bad, kid." Hale muttered, coughing. "Guess I overdid it."
Insert grinned. "Nah, I just figured out your ability."
Hale raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
**"You're an Emitter, not a manipulator but your ability actually works in stages."**Insert began, holding up a hand as he went through it step by step.
First, you manipulate air pressure passively. This lets you move faster, making you seem untouchable. It also lets you control your opponent's movements, slowing them down.Second, you absorb kinetic force. Every impact, every movement around you contributes to your ability, like charging up a battery.Finally, you release it in a devastating shockwave. This was your trump card and the basis of your true ability not the air manipulation—the longer the fight, the more powerful it becomes.
Hale nodded slowly. "Yeah, that sums it up. But what tipped you off?"
Insert tapped his Power Pole. **"Your attacks never hit as hard as they should. At first, I thought you were holding back, but then I realized—you weren't attacking, you were absorbing the force itself.
Hale smirked. "And? How'd you counter it?"
Insert leaned back. "Two things. One: I forced you to burn through your stored-up power before you could unleash it. Every time I struck you at full power, you had to use some of your pressure just to maintain control."
"Two: I messed with your air balance. You rely on precise control over the atmosphere, so I disrupted it with rapid, high-impact strikes at unexpected angles."
Hale let out a tired chuckle. "Smart. Most guys try to overpower me, but you broke the system itself."
Insert stretched, feeling the bruises set in. "Yeah, well. I've fought worse."
Hale shot him a sideways look. "Yeah? Who?"
Insert smirked. "Gings."
Hale blinked. Then laughed.
"Sonic, okay. You win, congratulation on getting the floor , I got a better oppurtunity anyway , might as well try it."