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'…' Thought
"…" speech
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Midway Through the Second Year
We had reached the midpoint of the second year, and things were… eventful, to say the least.
If the first year had been about building the foundation, the second year was about testing its limits.
Some of the most dedicated students had already crossed the 50 PL threshold and begun their Nen training. It was an incredible milestone. Watching students go from barely being able to sense their own aura to actively controlling it was like watching children take their first steps.
Vinn, the student with the highest recorded PL so far, had become obsessed with pushing his limits. His goal wasn't just to graduate—he wanted to protect Nova Island. He refused to even consider leaving once he hit 1000 PL. Instead, he asked if he could train to be a guardian of the island.
I didn't expect that kind of devotion, but I couldn't say I disliked it.
Chrollo, on the other hand, wasn't rushing his PL. He was curious about the mechanics of power, about how Nen worked. He spent more time studying techniques than actually training, which made sense. He wasn't just looking to grow stronger—he was looking to understand the system itself.
Morena's progress was… unique. She had stopped questioning the school's structure out loud, but I could tell she was still keeping her own theories in her mind. Her PL had risen steadily, and she had developed a strange, almost eerie, level of charisma. The way some students hung around her was concerning, but not enough to warrant intervention.
Yet.
Mito had finally reached the 50 PL range, and she was determined to reach 100 before the end of the year. She trained diligently, fiercely, as if proving something to herself.
Sambica, despite her softer personality, was growing steadily as well. She wasn't as aggressive in her training, but she had talent, especially when it came to Nen applications in medicine.
With students reaching higher power levels, it was inevitable that duels would start happening.
At first, they were just friendly sparring matches. Then, they got competitive.
Then… they got out of hand.
We had to establish rules to prevent accidental injuries. No fights outside of the designated arena. No fights without supervision. No fights with PL gaps greater than 10.
It was either that or let the infirmary fill up completely.
Vinn, being one of the strongest, was challenged constantly. And he never backed down.
One match between Vinn and Chrollo had drawn half the school into the training arena to watch. It wasn't that Chrollo was physically stronger, but his strategic thinking made the fight a masterclass in tactics vs. raw power.
Chrollo lost.
But he didn't seem upset. If anything, he seemed thrilled—like he had just figured out another puzzle piece.
The Pokémon arena was the place to be during downtime.
At first, the matches were fun and casual. But after a few months, students started developing strategies. Training regimens.Tactics.
Some even tried applying Nen concepts to Pokémon training—which was absolutely not in the curriculum, but I let it slide because it was interesting.
Monferno had become the unofficial mascot of the battle arena, and students idolized him. I still didn't get it. Kirlia was right there.
Illumi Zoldyck remained… an enigma.
He didn't interact much with other students, but he observed everything.
He wasn't particularly competitive, nor did he seem impressed by the school's power system. Instead, he seemed to be analyzing the students themselves.
It was unnerving how easily he could predict people's reactions.
One time, he called the outcome of five separate duels before they even started. When asked how, he simply said, "People are predictable."
By now, the student council had fully integrated into the school system. They handled complaints, conflicts, and requests.
This time, the meeting had an interesting mix of topics:
Mito wanted more study materials added to the library, especially ones focused on aura control.Sambica proposed a wellness program, believing that mental health was just as important as physical training.Chrollo requested access to restricted books, which I immediately rejected.Morena suggested creating a student organization that would allow students to develop their own rules. I wasn't sure if that was a brilliant idea or the beginning of a cult.
All in all, the school was growing.
And I had no doubt that by the time we reached the end of the year, things would only get more intense.
....
The Unexpected Visitors
It started with a call.
A simple, innocent call.
One that immediately told me my day was about to become far more complicated than it had any right to be.
"Hey, kid," Netero's voice crackled over the receiver. "I'm in the neighborhood. Thought I'd drop by."
I blinked.
"In the neighborhood?" I repeated, incredulous. "Netero, we're on an island in the middle of nowhere."
"Yeah, yeah, details. Anyway, I'm bringing a couple of friends."
"…Friends?"
"Zeno and Haunter."
I could feel the headache forming.
They arrived by airship, because of course they did.
As soon as the ramp lowered, the presence of the three of them was impossible to ignore.
Netero stepped down first, wearing his usual carefree grin, hands tucked behind his back like he was on a casual stroll.
Zeno followed, expression unreadable, his piercing gaze sweeping across the school grounds as if evaluating everything at once.
And then there was Haunter.
The ghost Pokémon floated lazily behind them, its wide grin filled with far too many sharp teeth. Its eyes flicked toward me, glowing with mischief.
I sighed.
"This is a school, not a battlefield," I muttered.
"Relax," Netero said, clapping a hand on my shoulder. "Just came to see what you've built here."
Zeno's gaze locked onto the students training in the open field. "So… these are the next generation?"
"Some of them, yeah."
Haunter cackled and immediately phased through a group of students, sending a few of them shrieking.
I shot Netero a look.
"Control your Pokémon."
He just laughed. "Haunter does what Haunter wants."
Of course he does.
I gave them the grand tour—because it's not like I had a choice.
We walked through the training fields, where a group of students were sparring. Some had barely reached 50 PL, while others were closing in on 100.
Vinn was, as usual, off to the side practicing on his own.
Netero watched him for a moment, stroking his beard.
"That one's got a goal," he noted.
I nodded. "He wants to protect the island."
"Interesting," Zeno murmured. "Not many children think like that."
The library was our next stop, where Chrollo was buried in books—probably plotting something.
Netero leaned in and whispered, "That one's either gonna be a genius or a problem."
I sighed. "Both, most likely."
As we walked past the Pokémon training field, Zeno actually stopped to watch a battle. Two students—one with a Growlithe, the other with a Nidorino—were locked in a surprisingly tactical match, they weren't their pokemon but the schools, figures got to have them start to know the basics before owning one of their own.
"Fascinating," Zeno mused.
"Thinking of getting one?" I teased.
He shot me a dry look. "I think I'll stick to dragons."
Haunter, meanwhile, was having the time of its life terrorizing students.
Morena watched from a distance, expression unreadable. When she caught me looking, she simply tilted her head, then walked off.
Yeah. That wasn't ominous at all.
By the time the tour ended, we were back in the main hall.
Netero stretched. "I gotta say, kid—you've done something impressive here."
Zeno nodded. "It's structured, but not rigid. You allow growth, but maintain control. That's not easy."
I exhaled. "So… what's the verdict?"
Zeno smirked. "I approve.maybe even let future Zoldichs enroll for a while"
Haunter floated over and licked my face.
I gagged.
Netero just laughed.
"Alright," he said, cracking his knuckles. "Now that we've seen what the students can do, how about a little demonstration?"
I frowned. "Demonstration?"
"Let's see if you can keep up."
I sighed.
This was going to be a long day.
Before the tour, before the chaos, before Haunter decided to traumatize an entire generation of students—Zeno had a quiet conversation with his grandson.
Illumi had been standing near the outskirts of the training field when Zeno found him, watching the students with his usual unreadable expression. His arms were crossed, posture straight, utterly still.
Zeno approached, hands tucked behind his back.
"You've been here for a few months now," he said casually. "What do you think?"
Illumi blinked once. "It is… different."
Zeno raised an eyebrow. "Different how?"
Illumi was silent for a moment before answering. "The students here are strong. Not all of them, but some. But they are… too free."
Zeno hummed. He glanced at the field, where a group of children were sparring. Some were laughing, others focused, a few overly serious—but none of them were being forced to do anything.
"And you?" Zeno asked.
Illumi's fingers twitched, a rare sign of hesitation.
"I will become stronger," he said simply. "That is why I am here."
Zeno studied him for a long moment. Then he smirked. "Good."
Illumi's head tilted slightly, as if he hadn't expected approval.
Zeno chuckled. "Let's see how strong you've gotten."
The Fight—Zeno vs. Illumi
Word spread fast.
Within minutes, students had gathered around the training grounds, murmuring with excitement. A Zoldyck sparring? Against his own grandfather?
Netero arrived just in time, grinning. "Oho, now this I want to see."
Illumi stood in the center of the field, his expression utterly calm. His nails were already sharpened to points.
Zeno rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck.
"No killing intent," Zeno instructed. "Just a test."
Illumi nodded.
Then he moved.
His speed was impressive—far beyond what most of the students had seen before. He closed the distance between them in an instant, aiming for a precise, calculated strike to the throat.
Zeno blocked it effortlessly, his forearm deflecting the attack.
"Too direct."
Illumi twisted, aiming a kick—Zeno sidestepped.
The exchange was fast, nearly invisible to the untrained eye.
Illumi was quick, surgical, his strikes meant to incapacitate with precision. But Zeno was… Zeno.
He dodged with minimal movement, never wasting energy, every block perfectly placed.
"Good instincts," Zeno remarked, parrying a strike. "But predictable."
Illumi's eyes narrowed.
And then—he changed tactics.
He feinted, shifting his weight subtly before launching a flurry of needle strikes aimed at Zeno's blind spots.
For a split second, it almost seemed like one would land.
And then—
BOOM.
A wave of Nen pressure erupted from Zeno.
Illumi was blown back, skidding across the field.
Silence.
Zeno exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "You're getting better," he admitted. "But you still have a long way to go."
Illumi slowly got to his feet. His nails were still sharp, but he didn't attack again.
Zeno smirked.
"Keep training, boy."
And just like that, the match was over.
Hisoka's Interest is Piqued
Hisoka had been watching from the very start.
Unlike the others, who murmured with awe or whispered about the legendary Zoldyck assassin, Hisoka's reaction was different. His breath was slow, controlled, but inside, his pulse quickened in excitement.
This… was delicious.
Illumi was good. Fast, precise, unwavering. He fought with such calm detachment, as if he were merely completing a task rather than battling a legendary assassin. And yet, despite his skill—
He still lost.
Hisoka licked his lips, his eyes gleaming.
How long will it take for him to ripen?
He watched as Illumi got to his feet, his expression as unreadable as ever. No frustration, no disappointment—just cold calculation.
Fascinating.
Hisoka grinned.
When he had first received the letter to this school, he had only accepted because he was bored. A place full of talented children? Mmm~, at best, it was something to pass the time.
But this?
This changed things.
There were strong ones here. Future adversaries, future toys.
And Illumi?
Illumi had potential.
Hisoka's fingers twitched, resisting the urge to approach him right away. No, no, no~, that would ruin the fun. He had to wait. Watch. Let the fruit ripen.
His tongue flicked across his lips again.
This school might actually be worth my time.
...
The Beginning of a Dangerous Friendship
Morena had seen him around before.
Pariston Hill.
A boy with an easy smile, always pleasant, always polite. He was the kind of person most people underestimated—a golden-haired child who never looked ruffled, who always seemed to enjoy everything, even the most mundane school tasks.
Morena didn't trust him.
Not because he was particularly suspicious, but because he reminded her of herself—someone who smiled but never meant it.
So when he strolled into the Student Council room one afternoon, all bright-eyed and full of fake enthusiasm, she barely reacted. She simply raised an eyebrow as he stood before the council members, hands behind his back, smiling as if he had already won.
"I'd like to join."
Mito, ever the responsible one, crossed her arms. "Why?"
Pariston tilted his head as if the question amused him. "Because it looks fun."
Sambica frowned. "This isn't just for fun. We handle real issues—"
"Oh, I know," he interrupted smoothly, eyes twinkling. "And I think I'd be very good at it."
Morena studied him carefully. Most people would flinch under her gaze—there was something in her eyes that made others uncomfortable. But not Pariston. He just kept smiling.
Interesting.
Chrollo, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. "If you're serious about joining, then we need to know what you can bring to the table."
Pariston's lips curved into a wider grin.
"Oh, I'm very good at solving problems," he said lightly. "I just have a different approach than most."
Morena's curiosity deepened.
"You mean you manipulate people into doing what you want," she said bluntly.
Pariston chuckled. "Oh, you wound me, Morena. But isn't that what leaders do?"
Mito and Sambica exchanged looks, unsure.
Morena, however, smirked.
Now this could be interesting.
"Fine," she said. "Let's see what you can do."
Chrollo didn't object. The vote passed.
And just like that, Pariston Hill became a member of the Student Council.
—
Later, as they left the meeting, Morena walked beside him.
"You're not fooling me," she said.
Pariston glanced at her with a mock-wounded look. "Oh? And here I thought we were friends."
She scoffed. "We'll see."
But in that moment, she amused herself with the thought that perhaps, with someone as familiar to her as Pariston, she had just found the perfect partner for her plans.
Meanwhile….
Tserriednich despised every moment he spent at this so-called "academy."
From the very first day, he had been forced to sit among commoners, breathe the same air as them, and—unforgivably—eat at the same tables. No designated servants, no personal space, no deference to his birthright. It was as if they had forgotten who he was.
The student council, a bunch of self-important children playing at politics, had the audacity to treat him like any other student. Even worse, some of them even dared to correct him, as if he needed to abide by the same rules as the rest. It was an insult beyond words.
He had given it a chance. He had watched, observed, taken in the way things operated. But the longer he stayed, the more disgusted he became. The students were too cheerful, too unrestrained. There was no order, no hierarchy—just an illusion of it, barely maintained.
So, without hesitation, he left.
Let them have their little utopia. It meant nothing to him. He would carve out his own place in this world, one where people bowed at his feet as they were meant to.
This school was a mistake. He had no use for it.
....
THE FIGHT
The students sat in front of the massive screens, excitement and tension thick in the air. They had gathered to witness something unprecedented— a battle between their headmaster and the legendary Chairman of the Hunter Association, Isaac Netero.
The battlefield was a vast, open plain, surrounded by cliffs and waterfalls. The air was still, heavy with anticipation, before the first move was made.
The headmaster stood tall, his upgraded power pole resting against his shoulder. He had reached an impressive 2,000 PL, but the gap between him and Netero was vast. The old man's aura burned like the sun itself, his monstrous 7,000 PL looming over the battlefield like an unshakable mountain.
Yet, the headmaster grinned. "I always wanted to see how I'd do against the legendary Netero."
Netero, floating midair in a meditative stance, chuckled. "Then entertain me, boy."
The moment the words left his mouth, Netero's palms clapped together. The ground cracked as a massive golden construct materialized behind him—the Hundred-Type Guanyin Bodhisattva.
BOOM!
A colossal palm shot forward at a speed that most wouldn't even register. The headmaster barely had time to react, using his weapon's first ability—Shrink and Expand. His power pole condensed to the size of a dagger, letting him slip through the golden hand's crushing impact.
But before he could land his counterattack, a second palm was already upon him.
He swung his pole midair—Teleport to Weapon—and in an instant, he vanished, reappearing right behind Netero. His weapon expanded in a flash, growing back to its full size as he struck with full force.
CRACK!
The hit landed cleanly on Netero's shoulder, but instead of wincing, the old man grinned.
Stun Effect Activated.
For the briefest moment, Netero's movement halted.
The headmaster didn't waste time. He twisted his stance, swinging his power pole in a wide arc, aiming to capitalize on the opening. But just before the next hit could land—
BOOM!
A third golden hand crashed down with impossible speed, forcing the headmaster to teleport away just in time. The moment he reappeared, he was already on the defensive again.
Palm after palm rained down from all angles, each strike carrying the force of a thousand explosions. The headmaster weaved through the assault, shrinking his weapon to dodge, expanding it to block, teleporting from spot to spot to keep ahead of the relentless barrage.
But Netero was grinning.
"You're good, but let's see how long you can keep up."
His hands clapped together again, and in an instant, the entire battlefield trembled. The students watching on the screens gasped as a hundred golden palms rose all at once, surrounding the headmaster completely.
A rain of divine fury descended.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The sheer force of the impacts sent shockwaves through the land, uprooting trees, shattering boulders, kicking up a storm of dust and debris. The screens flickered as the cameras struggled to keep up.
And then—silence.
The dust settled, revealing a crater where the headmaster once stood. The crowd of students held their breath, expecting the fight to be over.
But then—
FWOOSH!
A streak of light shot through the air. The headmaster teleported directly above Netero, pole fully extended, descending like a meteor.
"Gotcha."
He swung with all his might—
BOOM!
The hit connected, sending Netero plummeting into the earth below, a crater forming from the impact. The students erupted into cheers.
But then—
A deep, hearty laugh echoed from the pit.
The dust cleared, and there Netero stood, brushing off his robes as if he had just taken a light stroll.
"Amazing," he said, stretching his arms. "But I think we both know—"
FWOOSH!
He vanished.
The headmaster barely had time to process before a golden palm appeared inches from his face.
And then—
Darkness.
—
The fight had ended. The headmaster, breathing heavily, opened his eyes, finding himself flat on his back, staring at the sky.
Netero stood over him, offering a hand. "Not bad. You actually managed to hit me."
The headmaster groaned, accepting the hand as he got back up. "So… did I pass?"
Netero grinned. "You're still alive, aren't you?"
The students erupted into cheers, some in awe, others still trying to process what they had just witnessed.
The headmaster exhaled, shaking his head. "Alright. I'll take it."
Netero patted him on the back, his laughter booming through the island. "That was fun. Let's do it again sometime."
The students stood frozen, eyes wide, as they watched the fight unfold in front of them. The sheer intensity of the exchange, which only lasted a mere 30 seconds, left them breathless, jaws dropped. Even those who had witnessed strong battles before couldn't quite grasp the speed and sheer power that both Netero and Insert displayed.
Chrollo, arms crossed, leaned against a wall, his usual cool demeanor replaced by awe. His sharp eyes never left the combatants. "This is a different level of strength," he muttered under his breath, lips curling ever so slightly at the edges. "Fighting like this... it's almost beyond any strategy."
Morena, sitting at a nearby desk with her head tilted slightly to the side, watched with an almost puzzled expression. "So that's what real strength looks like." Her voice was soft, but there was a spark in her eyes. She'd seen plenty of fights, but the fluidity and control of the power in this one—everything had been so precise. She wasn't intimidated, though. No, she was more intrigued than anything.
Vinn, who'd been training harder than most to reach his goal of 100 PL, clenched his fists. The power, the grace—it was all so... so effortless for them. "I'm nowhere near that level." His expression was a mix of disbelief and determination. "But I'll get there. I'll surpass that."
Sambica, on the other hand, couldn't help but feel the weight of the experience. Her eyes were wide, her breath shallow as she whispered, "That's what I have to work towards?" The display of raw power had left a lasting impression, but it also filled her with resolve. She was already pushing herself, but now she knew where the true goal lay.
Hisoka, who'd been leaning against the corner of the room, a grin slowly spread across his face as he watched Netero's rapid movements. He wasn't paying much attention to Insert. "Interesting," he mused aloud, eyes never leaving the older man. "So much control... But I wonder, how much fun could he have with someone who could really challenge him?" The way his thoughts seemed to float, drifting into a more personal fantasy, was all too clear.
Meanwhile, Illumi stood straight, his usual stoic expression unshaken. "Control," he observed. "It's all about control. If you lose it, you lose everything." He was thinking more about the tactical side of things than the spectacle, as always, but his words held a hint of understanding that even Netero had to keep his composure to avoid being outmaneuvered.
The other students were equally stunned by the fight, but they all knew one thing: They had just witnessed the level of power they would one day have to face if they ever wished to rise beyond the ordinary. pure, unrelenting power.
As the battle came to a sudden and abrupt end, Netero and Insert exchanged a brief, respectful nod. It was over in an instant, but the atmosphere in the room felt like it had just shattered any illusion they may have had of being "strong." There was always someone stronger, and that reality was more daunting than any test they would face in the future.
The students stood in silence, collectively processing the magnitude of the fight they'd just witnessed.
"Well, that was something," Vinn finally said, breaking the silence. "Can't wait to be at that level one day."
And as the room buzzed with murmurs of excitement and disbelief, they all realized something : The bar had been set higher, and the road had just become a lot more intense.