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'…' Thought
"…" speech
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Sky Arena – 251st Floor
The crowd was electric, an ocean of cheers and anticipation. This was one of the rare, hyped-up battles of the year—another challenger trying for Floor Master. Only a handful of fighters ever made it this far, and the stadium was packed to the brim.
Ging Freecss stepped onto the stage, rolling his shoulders casually. His katana was strapped to his waist, but his hands remained relaxed, half-buried in his pockets. Across from him stood Vargas, a lean, sharp-eyed fighter with a predatory grin. His reputation in the arena was that of a manipulator—"The Puppeteer."
The announcer's voice boomed over the speakers.
"On one side, the current Floor Master, Vargas, the man said to control his opponents like marionettes! And on the other, the challenger,Sonic an unpredictable rising star! Will he rise, or will he fall?"
The match began.
Vargas extended a hand toward Ging, fingers curling as if pulling invisible strings. Ging felt a force yanking at his wrist. A thread? No—something subtler. His arm jerked on its own.
"Manipulation?" Ging muttered. He let himself stumble slightly, pretending to resist. The best way to make an enemy overconfident is to let them think their ability works.
Vargas chuckled. "Too bad, rookie. Once I take control of your limbs, you're done."
The audience gasped as Ging's body staggered awkwardly. To them, it looked like magic—a masterful, invisible force was controlling him.
But Ging had already noticed something off.
His other arm? Totally fine. His legs? Still moving freely. A real Manipulator would have complete control, or at least partial disruption. This wasn't that.
Ging relaxed his stance and let Vargas "control" his right arm. Then, he flicked his fingers slightly—testing something. There was no resistance.
His smile widened. Gotcha.
"So, how do you 'control' me exactly?" Ging asked, his voice almost lazy. "Thought manipulation? Muscles? Nerves? Bloodflow?"
Vargas clicked his tongue. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
Ging swung his katana with his "controlled" arm. It was clumsy, slow, as if someone was pulling on his wrist with a rubber band. He was playing along.
Then, with his free hand, he flicked the air in front of him.
The audience saw nothing, but Ging felt something—a thin, rigid strand vibrated against his fingertip.
"A thread, huh?" Ging murmured. "Nah… more like a wire."
Vargas's grin wavered for a fraction of a second.
Bingo.
The ability wasn't direct control. He wasn't manipulating bodies. He was conjuring ultra-thin wires, nearly invisible, wrapping them around joints and pressure points, giving the illusion of control. A Conjurer disguising himself as a Manipulator.
Ging started laughing.
"Oh man, that's tricky. You fool the amateurs with a fake ability while you just set up your strings. Classic misdirection."
Vargas's face twitched. "Tch."
Now that he understood, Ging stopped "resisting." Instead, he did something unexpected—he moved forward.
Vargas tried pulling him back, but Ging was already too close.
Step. Step. Step.
The moment Ging reached striking distance, his free hand snapped to his katana. A flash of silver—one clean slash.
SNAP!
Something in the air shimmered and collapsed—cut wires.
Vargas stumbled back. The tension in the wires snapped against his fingers, causing micro-cuts along his hands. He gritted his teeth.
Ging stretched his fingers, rolling his "freed" wrist. "Man, you really should've gone all-in on Conjuration instead of pretending to be a Manipulator."
Vargas scowled. "I'm not done yet."
He flicked his wrist.
A new set of conjured wires shot from his fingertips, this time moving like whips, aimed directly at Ging's throat and knees.
But Ging was already moving.
Ging had observed everything—the slight delay between Vargas's conjuring and his attacks, the need for his hands to move, the limited range before the wires went slack.
He ducked under the first set of wires, pivoted on his heel, and slashed upward—forcing Vargas's hand higher to block the blade.
That was the opening.
With a single, fluid motion, Ging slammed the hilt of his katana into Vargas's ribs. The impact knocked the wind out of him.
Then, before Vargas could recover, Ging twisted the hilt and hooked it under Vargas's arm—flipping him onto his back.
The crowd exploded into cheers.
Vargas gasped for breath, his wires falling limply to the floor. Ging flicked his katana to the side, shaking off imaginary dust, before sheathing it in one smooth motion.
"Welp," he sighed. "Looks like the strings got cut."
Winner: Ging Freecss.
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Vargas's Ability: "Phantom Strings"
Type: Conjuration (Disguised as Manipulation)Core Mechanic: Vargas conjures ultra-thin, nearly invisible wires that he attaches to his opponent's limbs at key pressure points. By pulling on them, he creates the illusion of controlling their movements.
Misdirection: He pretends to be a Manipulator, making people believe he is hijacking their nervous system when in reality, he is physically restricting them like a puppet on strings.
Why Ging Won
He Analyzed the Ability Instead of Panicking
When Vargas "controlled" his arm, Ging pretended to resist but actually tested it.
He noticed that only one arm was affected, meaning it wasn't true Manipulation.
Instead of fighting back randomly, he observed how the force acted on his limb.
He Figured Out It Wasn't Manipulation, but Conjuration
Real Manipulation abilities would have given Vargas full control over his body, not just tension-based movement.By flicking his fingers and feeling resistance, Ging realized there was a physical object—wires.This told him Vargas was a Conjurer faking another category to mislead his opponents.
He Used the Right Counter: Close-Quarters CombatConjuration-based abilities often have set conditions and weaknesses (e.g., range, durability, setup time).
Ging moved forward instead of backward, shortening the distance between him and Vargas.With his superior reaction speed and battle instincts, he cut the wires before Vargas could adjust.This left Vargas momentarily vulnerable, which Ging exploited by attacking his ribs and flipping him onto his back.
Final Verdict: Why This Was an Easy Win for Ging
Vargas relied too much on deception.Once the trick was exposed, his strategy fell apart.
Ging's battle IQ is insane.He instantly figured out the ability's true nature and exploited its weaknesses.Close-quarters combat ruined Vargas's setup.Ging knew that once inside his opponent's personal space, Vargas's ability became ineffective.Ging fights with adaptability.
Unlike fighters who rely purely on brute force, Ging uses reading, countering, and dismantling his opponent's abilities.
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With both Ging and Insert securing their floor master titles, they decided it was time to call it quits from the Sky Arena. The fights had been lucrative, the experience invaluable, but at this point, they had bigger plans in motion. Besides, staying any longer would only attract more unnecessary attention.
Their next stop? Whale Island.
A break from all the constant fighting sounded nice, even if just for a little while. More importantly, they needed time to finalize the legal paperwork for Little Croixia—the name of the island they had just secured. Soon enough, it would become their personal domain, a place where they could fully lay the foundation for Greed Island 2.0.
As they packed up, Ging, with Chimchar clinging to his shoulder, stretched lazily.
"I feel like I should be getting paid more for all this work."
Insert rolled his eyes, stuffing the last of his belongings into his bag. "You literally made a fortune here."
"Yeah, but a man can always have more." Ging grinned.
Mr. Worldwide chimed in from the side, already packed and ready.
"Don't worry, amigos! With me, your favorite Mr. WW, we'll have that island running smoother than a my world tour!"
Insert sighed. It was going to be a long trip back.
As the ship docked at Whale Island, Insert felt the salty breeze hit his face. It had been a while since they'd been back, and honestly, it felt strange returning after all they'd done. Fighting, making absurd amounts of money, securing an island, and of course, creating actual Pokémon. Now, they were just two kids coming back home for a break.
Ging, as usual, looked completely relaxed, hands in his pockets, Chimchar perched lazily on his shoulder. Meanwhile, Insert carried two bags—one with his own belongings and another filled with gifts for Mito. He didn't bother telling Ging. He knew the idiot would forget.
As they walked up to the house, the door slammed open. Mito stood there, arms crossed, her foot tapping rapidly against the wooden porch. Her sharp eyes zeroed in on Ging first.
"You—"
Before she could even get started, Insert quickly stepped forward, holding out the neatly wrapped gifts.
"Mito! Look, I got you some things from our travels!"
Her gaze shifted to the gifts, and her expression softened just a little.
"Oh? You actually thought about me?" She took them, inspecting the wrapping.
Ging, on the other hand, blinked, looking between Insert and Mito. "Wait… we were supposed to bring gifts?"
Mito turned back to him so fast that even Chimchar flinched.
"YOU VANISHED FOR OVER A YEAR AND DIDN'T THINK TO BRING ME A SINGLE THING?!"
Ging rubbed the back of his head, grinning nervously. "I mean… I brought myself back. That counts, right?"
Mito cracked her knuckles. Insert took a step back.
"Ging, buddy, I'd start running."
Too late.
A loud THWACK echoed across the island as Mito decks Ging straight in the face. Chimchar barely managed to jump off in time as Ging crashed into the ground.
Mito sighed, shaking her head. "Honestly, what am I gonna do with you?"
Insert just chuckled as he helped Ging up. "Good to be back, huh?"
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Mito's POV
Mito had a feeling.
It wasn't some Nen ability—she didn't have one, after all—but years of dealing with Ging and his nonsense had honed her instincts to a razor's edge. And right now, her instincts told her that something stupid was about to walk through that door.
When she heard the boat dock, she crossed her arms and tapped her foot impatiently. They better not show up empty-handed, she thought. It had been over a year since Ging had disappeared without a word, and now, just like that, he was back? No letters, no calls—just suddenly appearing as if nothing happened?
The door swung open.
And there they were. Insert and Ging.
Her eyes locked onto Ging first, and just as she was about to let him have it, Insert quickly shoved a bunch of neatly wrapped gifts into her hands.
"Mito! Look, I got you some things from our travels!"
She blinked. That… actually threw her off.Since when did anyone around here have manners?
She carefully took the packages, her expression softening. At least one of them had some common sense.
Then she turned to Ging.
"Wait… we were supposed to bring gifts?" he said, blinking like a complete idiot.
Mito's patience snapped.
"YOU VANISHED FOR OVER A YEAR AND DIDN'T THINK TO BRING ME A SINGLE THING?!"
And then—BAM.
She punched him hard enough to send him tumbling to the ground. Insert did nothing to stop her.
"Honestly, what am I gonna do with you?" she muttered, rubbing her temples.
Then, she noticed something moving.
She turned her gaze toward the two small creatures clinging to Insert and Ging. One looked like a tiny monkey with flames on its rear, and the other was a pale little thing with a helmet-like head.
"…What the hell are those?"
Insert grinned. "Oh, these are our Pokémon!"
She frowned. "Your what?"
Ging, still rubbing his jaw, added, "They're like… tiny animals with powers or something. Insert made them."
Mito's eyes narrowed. "You made them?"
Insert nodded proudly. "Yeah, well, using Magic and a little creativity. Meet Chimchar and Ralts!"
Mito crossed her arms, studying the creatures. Ralts looked at her with large, curious eyes, while Chimchar seemed more interested in picking at Ging's hair.
"So let me get this straight. You two spent over a year fighting in some death arena, made a fortune, bought an island, and in your free time… you created adorable tiny, magical pets?"
Ging nodded. "Pretty much, yeah, I got you one too."
Mito let out a long sigh. She had so many questions. But for now, she just pinched the bridge of her nose.just for her mother to speak :
"Just… go wash up. Dinner's in an hour. And if those things try to eat my furniture, they're sleeping outside."
Insert saluted. "Yes, ma'am!"
Ging, still rubbing his sore face, mumbled, "You hit harder than some fighters in the arena, you know that?"
Mito cracked her knuckles.
"Would you like another round?"
Ging immediately shut up.
After Dinner
The night air was cool as they all sat around, full from dinner. Mito and her mother had made way too much food, but considering how much Ging and Insert ate, there were barely any leftovers.
As the plates were being cleared, Insert pulled out a small, smooth egg and placed it in front of Mito.
"Here. I made this for you."
Mito raised an eyebrow. "…A rock?"
Insert snorted. "It's not a rock, it's an egg. You need to hatch it."
Mito deadpanned. "Hatch it? You do realize I'm a nine-year-old girl, not a chicken, right?"
Ging let out a loud laugh from the side, nearly choking on his drink. "She got you there, Insert."
Insert rolled his eyes. "Just keep it warm, okay? Trust me, it'll be worth it."
Mito sighed, but she still took the egg, holding it carefully in her hands. Despite her earlier complaint, she was already feeling curious. It was warm, almost pulsing faintly, as if something inside was waiting.
A few days later, the egg hatched.
A small, round bird emerged, chirping softly as it blinked up at her. It had gray feathers, tiny wings, and the cutest little beak.
"A… bird?" Mito muttered in wonder.
Insert grinned. "Not just any bird. That's a Starly. And by the way you're looking at it, I'd say you're already attached."
Mito huffed but didn't deny it. She gently stroked the Starly's head, and it let out a happy little trill, rubbing against her palm.
"…Fine. I like it."
Ging smirked. "More like you love it."
She threw a spoon at his head.
Insert watched the exchange with a chuckle, feeling relieved.
At least now, Mito had something to keep her company and protect her. He knew she could handle herself, but this world was dangerous. And, honestly, thinking about it…
Maybe I should send one to Biscuit too.
If nothing else, just to see how she'd react. Yes let's send it
It turned out it was a Happiny but that's for later maybe.