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'…' Thought
"…" speech
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NOVA HORIZON ACADEMY
The Totally-Not-Plagiarized School Invitation
I might have accidentally plagiarized the Hogwarts letter. But let's be real—those guys weren't gonna sue me across dimensions.
Instead of a simple letter, I went full production mode.
Each potential student received a brochure—but not just any brochure. No, no, no. This thing was high-tech. As soon as you unfolded it, a holographic video projection activated.
First, it showed off the school in a grand cinematic sweep—epic music, slow-motion shots, and dramatic angles like some over-the-top movie trailer.
🌟 "Welcome to Nova Horizon Academy." 🌟
Then, a montage of our handcrafted, magical-like campus played. Students (which didn't exist yet) were fake-added into the shots to make it look alive and thriving.
Next, I introduced the teachers—well, mostly the NPC staff we made.
A gym instructor who looked like he bench-pressed mountains.
A librarian NPC with glasses and a glare so intense, you could feel your soul shrink just by looking at it.
A combat trainer who literally punched a boulder into dust to prove a point.
A stern looking teacher who is grading one of the student's homework and put an F in it.
Then came the rules and expectations (but presented in a way that made it seem like an adventure).
📜 "Here at Nova Horizon Academy, we train the next generation of hunters, explorers, and protectors. Our mission is to ensure that every student is equipped with the skills to survive and thrive in this world—education comes first ,then you dreams and we promise you as long as you put in the effort you will become somebody who will impact this world and make it better."
And finally, I appeared on the screen—standing on top of the castle, cape dramatically flapping in the wind (I had to CGI the cape; I don't actually wear one).
📢 "I am Insert, your future headmaster and a certified One-Star Hunter. If you're seeing this, congratulations—you've been personally selected to attend Nova Horizon Academy. The school is completely free, fully equipped, and designed to turn you into someone truly capable. Will you take this chance?"
The projection ended with a bold, golden message with a kirlia doing the transition:
👉 "Enroll Now – Or Forever Regret Missing Out" 👈
Ging saw the finished product and just stared at me.
"...You literally turned it into a trailer for a superhero academy."
"Yeah," I admitted. "I really leaned into the shounen anime protagonist school vibe."
"...You even added fake students in the video."
"Look, marketing is important, okay?"
He sighed. "You do realize this is way more effort than just sending a normal invitation, right?"
I waved him off. "Details, details."
At the very least, I knew one thing—this was going to be the most legendary school opening in history.
Of course, it took a ton of energy to produce this. The Sun Stones had to work overtime, soaking up sunlight like a bunch of overachieving solar panels on steroids.
But at least it was pragmatic.
I mean, imagine the alternative—me and Ging traveling around the world, personally recruiting students one by one. Do I look like I have time for that?
No.
This way, I could mass-recruit without leaving the comfort of my castle. Efficiency was the goal, I promise.
It had absolutely nothing to do with me not wanting to leave the island just to deal with the weird personalities we'd probably find. Nope. Not at all.
…Okay, maybe a little.
Oh, I forgot to properly explain—because, you know, details matter.
The letter wasn't just an invitation. It was a portkey.
Yeah, that's right. You had about a week to say "I accept" and then touch the letter—and poof! You'd be teleported straight to the entrance of the school.
No need for planes, boats, or long-ass commutes. Just instant one-way travel to Nova Horizon Academy.
And because I am nothing if not a man of order, I made sure everyone arrived on the same day—November 1st.
Which means, at precisely midnight, a bunch of confused kids were gonna start popping into existence at the school gates like some kind of RPG spawn event.
…This was either going to be really efficient or an absolute disaster.
So, I went ahead and sent out 1,000 brochures to start.
The plan? 200 more every year moving forward.
Now, thanks to the map-tracking system I set up, I got to see where the letters ended up… and let me tell you—at least 100 went straight to Meteor Street.
Like, damn.
I mean, I knew we'd get a rough crowd in the mix, but that? That's a whole different level of rough.
As for the age limit, I set it between 8 and 12—young enough to train properly, but not so young that they'd have no clue what they were getting into.
Also, I made sure to give them a full week before enrollment. You know, so their parents could process everything instead of it looking like a massive, worldwide kidnapping operation.
Because, you know… bad PR.
After the video, I laid out the rules and expectations of the school—because, you know, gotta make it sound all official, but the rules basically translated to "Don't be a di**"
I explained that this was a team of genius One-Star Hunters putting this initiative together. Technically, I wasn't lying—Gings and I are both One-Star Hunters, and we are a team… of two.
The curriculum? It lasts until age 18, but students have the option to graduate early if they're skilled enough.
Oh, and don't worry—they get holidays. A solid two months off each year to go home, relax, or whatever.
I also made it clear that while the school is free, we'd appreciate if graduates helped fund it in the future—but it's not mandatory. (Translation: If you don't wanna donate, fine, but don't be surprised if you mysteriously get haunted by an untraceable prankster ghost.)
And of course, for the sake of not making this seem like a cult, students can call their parents once a week while they're here.
(Again, PR matters.)
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Meteor Street – The Arrival of the Letters
In the filth-ridden slums of Meteor Street, where survival was the only currency, a group of children gathered in the dim glow of a half-working streetlamp. The usual rustling of scavengers in the alleys was drowned out by a peculiar event—a stack of crisp, pristine envelopes falling from the sky like misplaced stars.
Young Chrollo Lucilfer, no older than ten, stood in the center, his sharp gray eyes scanning the scene with cautious curiosity. The Phantom Troupe—though not yet known by that name—huddled close, watching as the strange letters fluttered to the ground, untouched by the grime of their surroundings.
Sheila, ever the first to investigate, picked up a letter with delicate fingers, flipping it over to examine the wax seal. It was unlike anything they had ever seen—too clean, too official for Meteor Street.
"What the hell is this?" Phinks muttered, crossing his arms. "Some kind of scam?"
"Looks like a fancy invitation," Franklin rumbled, his voice skeptical but intrigued.
Sarasa, always the dreamer, clutched her own letter with barely contained excitement. "What if it's a secret treasure hunt? Like in those old stories?"
Chrollo carefully opened his letter, his fingers running over the fine paper. Inside, a small holographic projection flickered to life, casting an ethereal glow against the bleak walls. The group tensed, ready to destroy it if needed, but then—a voice spoke.
"Greetings, future students! I am Insert, a One-Star Hunter and the Headmaster of Nova Horizon Academy..."
The children stared, wide-eyed, as the projection continued, showcasing an immense castle-like school, full of books, training grounds, and strange mechanical creatures that moved like they were alive. Chrollo's fingers tightened around the letter.
"A school...?" Shalnark mused. "For people like us?"
Machi, silent as always, watched Chrollo's reaction. The boy's expression was unreadable, his mind already analyzing the situation from every angle.
"No one gives something for free," Chrollo finally said, voice quiet yet firm. "What's the catch?"
Uvogin grinned, already sold on the idea. "Who cares? Free food, free beds, and we get stronger. Sounds like a damn good deal to me."
Sarasa and Sheila exchanged a look, hope flickering in their eyes. "Maybe..." Sarasa began hesitantly, "maybe it's a real chance to learn about the outside world?"
Chrollo didn't reply immediately. He turned the letter over, inspecting its craftsmanship, feeling the undeniable weight of something greater than just an invitation. An opportunity.
For the first time in his life, the unknown wasn't just a threat—it was a door.
And Chrollo Lucilfer had never been one to ignore a door waiting to be opened.
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Gyro – The Letter That Meant Nothing
In the cold, damp underground tunnels of NGL, a boy sat against the wall, idly sharpening a rusted piece of metal against a stone. His clothes were tattered, his hands calloused, and his eyes—lifeless.
Gyro had long since given up on the idea of change.
The weak survived by clinging to delusions. The strong survived by discarding them.
A letter slipped through the cracks of the wooden ceiling above, landing near his foot. His first instinct was to ignore it. Junk. Just another thing that didn't matter in the grand scheme of this rotting world. But the golden wax seal caught his eye—too perfect, too foreign for a place like this.
Frowning, he picked it up and ripped it open.
A small, glowing projection flickered to life, casting an eerie blue hue over the grime-covered walls.
"Greetings, future students! I am Insert, a One-Star Hunter and the Headmaster of Nova Horizon Academy..."
Gyro's lip curled in disgust as he watched the images of a pristine castle, an academy that promised power, education, a better life.
A joke.
A sick joke.
He stood up, crushing the letter under his boot.
"People like me don't get saved," he muttered. "We rot until we don't."
He turned his back on the glowing message, leaving the crumpled letter behind.
He had already chosen his path.
And no school, no fantasy, was going to change that.
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Morena – The Invitation to Chaos
The backstreets of a decayed city reeked of cheap alcohol, stale cigarettes, and quiet despair.
Morena Prudo stood on the balcony of an old, crumbling apartment, gazing down at the alley below. A man had just died there an hour ago—his body was still warm, but no one had bothered to move him. No one ever did.
A letter drifted onto the table next to her.
At first, she assumed it was just another debt notice, but the elegant golden seal told her otherwise. With a smirk, she peeled it open.
The holographic projection began, displaying the grandeur of Nova Horizon Academy. A school for the gifted. A place of knowledge. A future.
Morena laughed.
A long, sweet, mocking laugh.
"A school, huh?" She swirled the cheap liquor in her glass. "For people like me?"
She watched the little animated projection of Insert, enthusiastically explaining the curriculum, the rules, the expectations. It was all so civilized. So structured.
So painfully naïve.
She leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm, her eyes gleaming with wicked amusement.
"Let's see," she mused. "If I accept, will they regret inviting me?"
She placed a single finger on the letter and whispered, "I accept."
The letter flashed, sealing her fate.
Morena smiled.
This was going to be fun.
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Mito – A Letter from the two that cannot be trusted
Mito Freecss sat on the front porch of her home on Whale Island, kicking her legs idly as she peeled an apple with careful, practiced movements. The sun hung low in the sky, casting warm hues across the ocean.
It was a normal day—until a letter drifted down, landing gently on the wooden floor beside her.
She blinked.
There was no wind.
Mito cautiously picked up the thick envelope, noticing the golden wax seal. It looked fancy. Important. Like something from one of those old adventure books she read when she was bored.
With a frown, she tore it open.
A holographic projection flickered to life, floating above her hands. The image of a young man, grinning confidently, filled the air.
"Hello, future students! I am Insert, a One-Star Hunter and the Headmaster of Nova Horizon Academy—"
Mito dropped the letter like it had caught fire.
"WHAT?!?"
Her cousin. The idiot. The walking disaster waiting to happen.
Was running a school?!
A school?!
With Ging?!?!
The projection continued despite her horror.
"Our academy is designed to train the next generation of talented individuals in a safe and controlled environment—"
Mito snatched the letter back up. "LIES! There is nothing safe or controlled about anything you and Ging touch!"
She listened on, arms crossed, lips pursed in deep suspicion. He spoke about a castle, free education, powerful teachers, and something about a self-sufficient school run by elf-like creatures (which made her squint).
By the time the letter finished, she had a thousand questions and zero trust in whatever Insert and Ging had built.
She did what any sensible person would do in this situation.
She stormed inside, grabbed the phone, and called Insert immediately.
—
[Phone Call – Insert & Mito]
Insert:"Yo, Mito! What's up?"
Mito:"Don't 'yo' me! I just got a letter from your so-called 'school!'"
Insert:"Oh, cool! So, what do you think? Pretty fancy, right? We put a lot of effort into—"
Mito:"You and Ging built a school. A SCHOOL. And you expect me to believe it's a functioning, safe place? Do you hear how insane that sounds?"
Insert:"Wow, first of all, rude. Second, we did a fantastic job. Third, we have a brochure—"
Mito:"THAT'S NOT HELPING."
Ging (in the background):"Who is it?"
Insert:"Mito. She got the letter."
Ging:"Ah. She's yelling, isn't she?"
Insert:"NO."
Ging:"Huh. Thought she'd yell sooner."
Mito:"I CAN HEAR YOU, YOU MORONS!"
Mito took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of her nose. She had so many concerns.
Mito:"Are there actual adults running this? You two don't count."
Insert:"Excuse you, I am a very responsible—"
Ging:"No, you're not."
Insert:"Okay, fair, but that's why we have teachers!"
Mito:"Like who?"
Insert:"Biscuit, for one—"
Mito:"You bribed her, didn't you?"
Insert:"I only sponsored her ."
Mito:"...That's a bribe."
She let out a long sigh. She knew they were crazy, but this was a new level of crazy.
And despite herself... a part of her was curious.
A free school. A place of learning. A place for people to grow stronger and smarter. Could it actually be something good?
Mito:"So... what happens if I accept the letter?"
Silence.
Then—
Ging:"Wait. You're considering it?"
Insert:"Hold up, is Mito gonna be a student?!"
Mito:"DON'T GET ANY IDEAS! I'm just—ugh, forget it! I'll call you back later!"
She slammed the phone down, face flushed, mind racing.
For now, she'd keep the letter.
And think about it.
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A Letter for Sambica
Sambica sat quietly in the Hunter Association's medical wing, her small hands carefully flipping through a thick medical textbook that was far too advanced for most children her age. But for her, it was a comfort—something logical, something she could fixate on instead of thinking about… other things.
Across the room, Cheadle Yorkshire, her mentor, and the woman who had all but taken her in, was finishing up some reports when a letter materialized out of thin air and landed right on Sambica's book with a soft thump.
The girl blinked.
Cheadle looked up.
Sambica tilted her head and cautiously picked up the thick envelope. It had a golden wax seal, the kind that important people use.
"Uh… Miss Cheadle?" she murmured.
Cheadle stood, approaching as she adjusted her glasses. "Let me see that."
Sambica handed it over, and the dog-like Zodiac carefully sniffed the envelope before tearing it open. A holographic projection flickered to life above their heads.
"Hello, future students! I am Insert, a One-Star Hunter and the Headmaster of Nova Horizon Academy—"
Sambica's eyes widened.
Cheadle's nose twitched.
A school?
The projection continued, explaining about a free education, a castle, a self-sufficient campus, powerful teachers, and special training. Sambica listened, hands clenching the hem of her sleeves.
A school… for kids like her?
Cheadle, however, was not as convinced. Her ears twitched as the explanation went on, and by the time Insert started talking about elf-like NPC servants, she pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Oh no," she sighed. "This has young Ging's nonsense written all over it."
Sambica looked up, confused. "You know the Headmaster?"
Cheadle sighed. "Not him, but I know Ging. And if Insert is involved with him… this is either an incredible opportunity or an absolute disaster."
Sambica hesitated, clutching the letter. "But… if it's real, I'd like to go."
Cheadle's ears perked up, and she looked down at the girl. "You would?"
A tiny nod.
Cheadle exhaled. "Alright. Before we make any decisions, let's take this to the chairman. If anyone can tell us if this is legitimate or just another one of Ging's scams, it's him."
—
Netero's Reaction
Inside the Hunter Association's President's Office, Isaac Netero sat at his desk, casually balancing a spinning top on one finger while sipping his tea.
Cheadle entered with Sambica, holding the mysterious letter.
"President," Cheadle began, "we need your insight on something."
Netero opened one eye, grinning. "Something serious, eh? Lay it on me."
Cheadle handed him the letter, and once again, the holographic projection began.
"Hello, future students! I am Insert, a One-Star Hunter and the Headmaster of Nova Horizon Academy—"
Netero watched. The grin grew wider.
By the time the message finished, he was laughing.
"Hohhh? A school, huh? And Ging's involved? This is either the best idea I've heard in years or a catastrophe waiting to happen!"
Cheadle sighed. "That's what I said."
Sambica clutched the letter. "Is it… safe?"
Netero stroked his beard, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Safe? Ha! Maybe not. But it'll be an adventure. And tell me, little missy, do you want to play it safe, or do you want to see what you're capable of?"
Sambica hesitated… then, ever so slightly, nodded.
Netero chuckled. "Then I say go for it. Worst case? You come back stronger. Best case? You get to witness Ging and his friend's stupidity up close. Win-win!"
Cheadle groaned. "That's not reassuring."
But Sambica was smiling. For the first time in a long time.
..........
Netero leaned back in his chair, flipping through the brochure with an amused chuckle. A school, huh? Built by two of the most reckless, troublesome, and unpredictable hunters alive? He wasn't sure whether to be impressed, horrified, or just sit back and enjoy the inevitable chaos.
"They actually did it…" he muttered, turning the page to see the grand castle-like structure. "A fully self-sufficient, free-entry school for the most talented kids they can find… What a gamble."
He glanced at the list of features—castle elves, training programs, a digitalized library, and of course, an entirely automated faculty of Nen-powered NPCs.Lazy bastards, Netero mused. They even rigged the admission process so they wouldn't have to travel the world recruiting—just toss out a thousand letters and let fate decide.
And yet…
"They actually thought it through," he admitted, rubbing his beard. "They're training them young, giving them structure, but not forcing them into any ideology." Unlike the V5 or the Hunter Association itself, this wasn't about control. This was about talent cultivation—and the possibility that a generation raised in this school wouldn't be bound by the same old world order.
That made him grin.
"Heh… The old farts in the V5 would throw a fit if they knew about the real talents of these two and actually took them seriously."
Then, his eyes fell on the list of students a thousand of them ,His amusement wavered.
"…This school's either going to save the world or be its biggest headache."
He tossed the brochure onto his desk and stretched.
"Welp. Either way, this is gonna be fun."