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'…' Thought
"…" speech
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Well, I'm officially 13 now. Some things have changed, while others… not so much. Ging? Yeah, he's definitely in the "not so much" category.
It's been a year since we last set foot on our island, which, thanks to Ging's is now officially named "Cool Island." No, I did not approve this. No, I was not consulted. And no, I am not taking responsibility for it.
Most of the year, I spent hiding in a house we built on the island because I needed to "wish" for some things—don't ask, long story. Meanwhile, we somehow managed to construct a small Hogwarts-like castle. It wasn't meant to be a dorm, but, honestly? It could work just fine.
…If we don't count the part where it still lacks proper plumbing.
We also spent a ridiculous amount of resources—all imported from different parts of the world, wherever Mr. WW thought it would be cheaper. Honestly, I don't even know where half of this stuff came from. For all I know, some of it might be "accidentally acquired" from places we weren't supposed to be buying from. But hey, cost efficiency, right?
The school itself, now officially named Nova Horizon Academy, sounds serious enough to impress people while still being vague enough to mean absolutely nothing. The entire concept was heavily inspired by Hogwarts, so naturally, we built a castle.
One of the key features? Sun Stones—a little something I invented. And what are Sun Stones, you ask? Well, they're basically magical solar panels on steroids. These gems absorb solar energy—which, last time I checked, is completely free—and convert it into natural energy. Think Nen, but not really Nen. The end result? The environment becomes saturated with energy that benefits humans in a bunch of ways.
Body & Nen regeneration speeds up, meaning tired injured fighters can get back to throwing hands even faster.
Boosted concentration, which theoretically helps students focus on their studies especially meditation instead of, you know, plotting chaos.
General mood improvement—basically, everyone's less depressed and more lively. Which, now that I think about it, might be a terrible idea in a school full of hyperactive kids.
Oh, and the best part? Sun Stones can also be used as an energy source for anything that runs on electricity, eco-friendly style. Take that, climate change.
As I explained all this to Ging, he just nodded, then suddenly said, "Wait. So you literally made mood-boosting, Nen-charging, solar-powered magic rocks?"
"Pretty much."
"...You do realize this is some overpowered, civilization-advancing tech, right? Like, V5 would straight-up murder you for it."
I shrugged. "Yeah, but I don't really care , and we kind of made the island transparent to them , might work on the teleportation and banishement array , and it's also my propriety so they can't have it , much less since they wouldn't know that it exist"
Ging gave me a long, knowing look before muttering, "You are such a shounen protagonist."
I couldn't even argue.
And to cap it off, I couldn't help but quote the great philosopher of our time, TeamFourStar Goku:
"Sun, you grow my food, you kill my enemies… you are well worth the occasional skin cancer."
Oh, and did I mention the castle elves? Yeah, we totally made our own version of house elves, except they're way cuter and won't make you feel like a terrible person for not letting them work. At least when you see them, you actually think "elf" and not "malnourished goblin in a pillowcase."
They're basically castle NPCs—they cook, clean, and maintain everything, so neither Ging nor I have to lift a finger for house chores. A truly genius invention, if I say so myself. Unlike actual living beings, they don't need food, rest, or wages (which makes them every capitalist's dream), and as long as they stay within the castle's perimeter, they run on the ambient energy from the Sun Stones.
Ging had questions, obviously.
"So… what happens if one of them leaves the castle?" he asked.
"They stop working."
"Like... they just freeze in place?"
"Yup."
"That sounds horrifying."
"Well, you don't let them leave, simple as that. Why would they want to? Their entire existence is castle maintenance."
Ging stared at one of the little elves sweeping the hallway, its tiny face eerily cheerful as it worked. "…Yeah, this is definitely the start of a sci-fi horror story."
"Relax. It's fine. If anything, they should be afraid of you."
He gave me a flat look. "If one of them ever gains sentience and starts plotting revenge, I'm blaming you."
"Noted."
Oh, and the books—we made a full curriculum, covering everything we deemed necessary for education. We compiled every bit of knowledge we found useful, structured it, and printed entire sets of books for our future students.
The library system? State-of-the-art. It works through an NPC librarian, meaning no more wasting hours digging through endless shelves—just ask the librarian, and boom, the right book appears.
Of course, the nen training part was the real headache. Finding competent nen teachers is harder than getting Ging to pay child support, so I had to bribe Biscuit into copying all her training methods for us. And let me tell you—that was expensive.
She didn't want money. She didn't want favors. She wanted treasure.
So, in the end, it cost me countless rare gems… and a Sableye.
Yes. A living Sableye.
"So do you really want it, It's not really pretty but he is perfect for a gem hunter like you?" I had asked.
"As long as it help me find gems then it's cute," Biscuit had answered without hesitation.
I wanted to argue that Sableye is literally a gremlin that eats rocks, but at that point, I just handed it over before she changed her mind. The deal was done.
Nen curriculum secured.
Oh, and I didn't stop there. Why rely on human teachers when I could just… make my own?
So I went ahead and created NPC teachers—each one specialized in different subjects. We've got a history professor, a mathematics expert, a science teacher, some special NEN teachers and of course, a full-fledged gym instructor for physical training. There's even a battle trainer for combat lessons.also got a happiny to help with healing.
The castle basically runs itself now.
Students will have automated lessons, personalized training, and even gym workouts—all without me having to lift a finger. I mean, sure, I still have to be the headmaster, but at this point, that's purely for show. Just slap my name on a few documents, maybe give an occasional inspiring speech, and boom—job done.
Honestly, I have it even easier than Dumbledore.
At least that guy had to pretend he was working.
For food production, we created "Garden Elves"—basically, tiny, cute, hardworking farming NPCs. These little guys grow all the crops, take care of the animals, and when harvest time comes, they just toss everything into the warehouse. From there, it all gets automatically sorted into meats, vegetables, fruits, fish, eggs, and dairy—everything the Castle Elves in the kitchen would need.
Honestly? It took forever to structure all that.
But was it worth it? Absolutely.
Now we have a fully automated, self-sustaining food system, meaning:
✔ No need to rely on outside imports.
✔ Always fresh ingredients.
✔ No risk of food poisoning. (Well, unless Ging tries cooking something new.)
Security?
Yeah, I handled that too. I installed some advanced sensing devices—because who knows what kind of lunatics might try sneaking in somewhere? Maybe some rogue student, a lost animal, or worse… Ging deciding to surprise-visit in the middle of the night.
Plumbing & Restrooms?
Oh, don't even get me started on that nightmare.
Let's just say, designing a working bathroom system in a giant magical castle took more brainpower than anything else. You'd think figuring out nen-powered security would be the hardest part, but nope—it was the damn pipes, drainage, and making sure the baths don't flood the whole school.
In the end, I managed to get it right, but I swear… this whole castle would've fallen apart if I hadn't thought about the toilets first.
All in all, we built a fully functional, self-sufficient school.
Honestly, I could probably just sit back, be the lazy headmaster, and let the NPCs run everything. Dumbledore had to deal with Voldemort—meanwhile, my biggest problem is making sure Ging doesn't mess with the plumbing.
Meanwhile, Ging...
While I was busy making this place actually work, Ging went off on some hunting jobs and, somehow, made quite a name for himself in the field of archaeology. (I'm not saying he's looting ancient sites, but… let's just say the museums are suspiciously well-stocked now.)
He also brought back some interesting concepts and treasures, which—knowing him—are either priceless historical artifacts or random junk he found in a ditch and insists is important.
We are fully capable of accepting around 800 students.
And before you ask—no, we don't do scholarships. Why? Because the school is free. But not just for anyone. We choose who gets in.
That might sound elitist, but it's not about money—it's about talent, potential, and, most importantly, not being a little shit.
That being said, if some of our future graduates decide to help us out or contribute in the future, who am I to refuse? After all, I'm basically investing in my future carefree life.
Oh, and Ralts evolved into Kirlia! It can teleport now, which is both cool and mildly satisfying.
But the first one to evolve? Ging's Chimchar. It turned into Monferno right in front of him, and let me tell you, it was hilarious.
Ging, the so-called genius, the man who supposedly "understands things at a glance," completely freaked out. I mean, you'd think he was watching a ghost rise from the grave instead of his own Pokémon growing up.
Ging and I were sitting outside, enjoying a lazy afternoon. Well, I was enjoying it. Ging was messing with an old relic he got from some tomb, trying to figure out if it was a cursed artifact or just a really ugly cup.
Monferno—formerly Chimchar—was playing nearby when it suddenly froze mid-step. A glow enveloped its body.
"Hey, what's wrong with my monkey?" Ging asked, squinting at it.
I smirked. "Oh, eather it's going to explode. Or it's Just evolution."
"Evolution?" he echoed, frowning.
And then it happened—Chimchar's body stretched, limbs lengthening, tail flame blazing even brighter. In a flash of light, Chimchar was gone, replaced by Monferno.
Ging jumped back like it had just exploded. "WHAT THE HELL?!"
I laughed. "Relax, it's supposed to do that."
He pointed accusingly at Monferno, who was now flexing its new limbs, looking very pleased with itself. "Supposed to do that?! It just mutated! In front of me! That's not normal!"
"Dude, it's literally the most normal thing ever," I said, wiping away tears of laughter. "I told you these things evolve."
"You said grow! Not turn into an entirely different monkey!"
Monferno, sensing Ging's panic, grinned mischievously and suddenly jumped onto his shoulders.
Ging let out a strangled yelp, flailing. "GET IT OFF! He's way heavier NOW!"
I doubled over, wheezing. "Congrats, Ging. You officially have a Super Monkey."
Monferno patted his head like it was comforting him. Ging just groaned. "He was cuter."
Ralts, sitting beside me, jumped onto Ging's lap just to mess with him more.
He stared down at the cute fairy thing. Then at the evolved monkey on his shoulders. Then at me.
"You've ruined me.I wanted a monkey not a gorilla"
I shrugged. "You're welcome."
Meanwhile, in Netero's Office…
Netero had seen many things in his long life. Wars, assassins, the rise and fall of nations… but nothing could have prepared him for Haunter.
This floating, cackling, purple menace had made itself right at home in the Hunter Association's headquarters, and it tormented everyone—but especially Netero.
Netero was sitting at his desk, buried under a mountain of paperwork. He sighed, picked up a pen, and just as he was about to sign the first document—
POOF. The entire stack vanished.
He blinked. Looked left. Looked right.
"...Hmph."
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Haunter floating upside down, holding all the papers.
"Give those back," Netero said, unimpressed.
Haunter stuck out its tongue, shredded the top document into confetti, and then just... disappeared through the wall.
Netero let out a deep sigh. "I should've expected this."
....
Beans, the Association's ever-loyal secretary, had the misfortune of stepping into the elevator alone.
As soon as the doors closed—
The lights went out.
Then, in the darkness…
A glowing purple face with massive red eyes and an impossibly long tongue appeared right in front of him.
"Boo."
Beans' scream was heard throughout the entire building.
When the doors finally opened, he stumbled out, pale as a sheet. Netero, sipping his tea outside the elevator, didn't even look up.
"Ah, Haunter got you too, huh?"
Beans just nodded, shaking.
Haunter floated out, laughing hysterically.
...
Netero, determined to show who was boss, decided to challenge Haunter to a game of chess.
"Now listen here, ghost," Netero said, cracking his knuckles. "I've beaten world champions, tactical geniuses, and even a supercomputer once. You don't stand a chance."
Haunter grinned and floated over the board.
Five minutes later—
Netero was losing.
Badly.
"What the hell?" he muttered, eye twitching.
Haunter snickered and moved a piece. Checkmate.
Netero leaned back, arms crossed. "Alright, I admit it. You're good."
Haunter stuck its tongue out and flipped the board over anyway. Pieces flew everywhere.
"…You little bastard."
Haunter cackled and disappeared through the ceiling.
...
Netero woke up in the middle of the night in his office chair, groggy from yet another day of dodging work.
He heard a noise. Looked around. Nothing.
Then—
His desk drawer slowly creaked open by itself.
Then another.
Then another.
A deep whisper filled the air.
"Neeeeeteeroooooo…."
Netero stared at the drawer. "Haunter."
The ghost Pokémon slowly floated up from inside the desk, waving its little hands menacingly.
Netero didn't react.
Haunter's eyes narrowed. It reached behind itself and pulled out—
A rubber chicken.
It squeezed it.
SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAK.
Netero burst out laughing.
Haunter, delighted that someone actually enjoyed its prank, started spamming the rubber chicken like a child discovering a new toy.
The two sat there, laughing like idiots in the dead of night.
Back at Insert and Ging's Place…
Insert looked at his phone. "Huh. I have twelve missed calls from Netero."
Ging, lounging on the couch, raised an eyebrow. "Bet you he wants another egg."
Insert smirked. "Nah. I bet Haunter finally broke him."
They both shared a knowing nod and went back to ignoring their responsibilities.