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'…' Thought
"…" speech
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"Insert IMG as an adult"
Being the headmaster started to get a bit boring, to be honest. Don't get me wrong—it's still my school, and I'm proud of it. But day after day of managing clubs, schedules, maintenance, student discipline, curriculum upgrades, and the occasional exploding laboratory… it starts to wear on you. Especially when you're just turning 18.
And guess what? My current Power Level is sitting pretty at 5,000. Even Ging is a little salty about it—he's still hovering in the low 4,000s. That man will never say it out loud, but I saw that twitch in his eye when I told him. Made my week.
A while ago, I ended up fighting Biscuit. Yeah, that Biscuit. The legendary teacher, Nen master, biscuit-fueled monster in disguise. I kicked her ass. Okay, maybe not kicked, but I definitely held my ground and came out on top. She said she was "testing me," but I saw the shock in her face when I pulled off a triple-teleport feint mid-air and caught her with a mid-range staff blast.
It all started because I was trying to find a temporary headmaster. I wanted a little break from the paperwork and the weekly meetings with the student council—which, while helpful, are also emotionally exhausting when Pariston and Morena are in the same room.
Eventually, I picked Cheadle as acting headmaster. She's responsible, logical, and doesn't let personal emotions interfere with leadership. Exactly what the school needed for a semester or two. I also made Biscuit vice principal—because let's face it, she's the best teacher in this world. But, just like Ging, she cannot stay in one place for long. Two months in, she said something about "beauty sallons" and vanished in a puff of glitter and dramatic monologue.
As for my own power—my fighting style hasn't changed much, really. I'm basically a master of Bōjutsu now. You give me a staff, and I'll give you a performance. Whether it's in close-quarters, mid-range combat, or even rapid area suppression, I've got it covered. I've trained this style to the point where it's second nature, like breathing.
My staff has grown with me. Literally. Over time, I refined it with four primary abilities, and a new core upgrade:
Size Manipulation – I can shrink it down into a bracelet or expand it instantly to its full length in battle.
Stun Effect – Every hit I land can channel a jolt of Nen, enough to paralyze or knock out most opponents.
Teleportation – If I throw it or leave it somewhere, I can teleport directly to its location within a certain range. Great for sudden escapes or aggressive entries.
Nen Cannon Mode – I built in a pulse-type launcher that can fire concentrated aura in projectile form. It's like a cannon shot or gun fire depend on my intent.
New Power Source – Most recently, I managed to infuse a sustainable Nen core into the staff, allowing it to store and regulate its own energy. It's practically sentient now, which is both awesome and just great.
I don't even really train in the traditional sense anymore. I live, breathe, and move in rhythm with my weapon. My aura's stabilized, my instincts are sharper than ever, and the only real opponents left are legends and monsters.
Still… I guess that's the curse of getting strong too fast. The battles are fewer, the stakes feel lower, and sometimes, I miss the chaos of early days—before I was a 5,000 PL headmaster, before I had armies of NPCs building districts, and before Ging's jealousy was my daily breakfast.
Well, people who don't know me probably think I trained really hard to reach this level of power—grinding every day, sweating on the mountaintops, fighting tigers in the rain, that kind of thing.
But those who do know me? They know the truth:
I kind of cheated.
At least, depending on how you define "cheating." See, for my Bōjutsu, I didn't learn it the traditional way. I didn't go hopping from one old master to another begging for scraps of wisdom. No. I went full nerd. I spent two years gathering, analyzing, and breaking down every Bōjutsu style I could find—from ancient Chinese staff arts to Japanese jōdō schools, to modern military baton techniques.
Then I did what any genius with access to a Nen-fueled VR lab would do:
I synthesized all of it into one perfect style and uploaded it into my brain.
Yeah. Matrix-style. Instant mastery. Took a bit of tweaking, sure—my nervous system nearly fried the first time—but by the end, my body moved like it had been training with the staff since the womb.
Even Mr. WorldWide—my ever-faithful AI assistant who still insists on speaking with Pitbull's voice and randomly says "Dale" at the end of every sentence—watched my final simulation and said:
"Congratulations, jefe. That's the cleanest Bōjutsu I've ever seen. Dale."
If he says it's perfect, it's perfect.
Honestly, at this point, I feel like I could walk into Konoha and teach Sarutobi Hiruzen a thing or two. And that guy was called The Professor
Of course, cheating the system with high-end tech and Nen hacking doesn't feel like cheating to me. I built the system. I'm just using it better than anyone else.
And besides, the results speak for themselves.
As for my Power Level, the whole obsession kind of started when I ran a simulation out of sheer curiosity. I wanted to know—just how strong was Meruem, the Chimera Ant King?
So, I booted up the high-level VR analyzer, fed it all the available combat data, Nen fluctuation patterns, aura outputs, and battle footage from what little was recorded… and the numbers nearly fried the damn system.
Turns out, the Royal Guards—Pitou, Pouf, and Youpi—were each floating somewhere around 12,000 PL. Each.
Then came Meruem.
Pre-Rose?
21,000 PL.
Let that sink in.
And after that little "rose incident", once his body adapted absorbed youpi and pouf and Nen mutated him into something beyond comprehension?
35,000 PL.
Yeah. Thirty. Five. Thousand.
To put that in perspective, even Netero, at his absolute peak, before the years and the monk-ish dieting wore him down, would've been sitting at around 12,000 PL. Which made me realize…
I had a long way to go.
I also came to a cold, hard truth about myself:
I'm not the type who'll grind endlessly, sweating blood and tears, just to inch closer to power. I respect it—I really do. But me? I want the results now. Maybe it's impatience, maybe it's laziness, or maybe I'm just too clever for my own good. Either way, one thing was clear:
I wanted to reach the level of monsters like Pitou—I just didn't want to suffer for it.
So, I did what any lazy genius with a cheat code would do:
I turned to my Fairy Godmother.
I asked her, point-blank, "How long would it take if I wished to reach Pitou-level PL?"
She ran the calculations.
Aura reserves, mental conditioning, nervous system strain, Nen core expansion…
Then she gave me a number.
"Nine years," she said.
Nine. Years. Sealed.
Now, listen—for anyone else, that'd be a god-tier deal. Go into stasis, fast-track through nine years of focused aura evolution, and come out on the other side the strongest human alive. Not just the strongest in Nova—the strongest on like mobius.
But for me?
Absolutely not.
Spending nine years in a coma or sealed just to wake up strong felt like skipping life entirely. I'd come out in my early twenties—sure, with absurd power—but I'd eather have missed everything:
The students, the projects, the island, the fights, the chaos, the fun. Or spent it living like a rat.
So instead?
I did what I do best.
I cheated.
I got the inspiration during a late-night movie binge—the kind that fries your brain a little but leaves you full of "what ifs." It was that old DBZ film, Tree of Might, mixed with a touch of Naruto's chakra nature lore. Something clicked. I sat back in my chair and whispered to myself:
"I could make that… but better."
Of course, I didn't want to crash the entire ecosystem or suck the island dry like Turles did. So, I toned it down, dialed it back from "planet-killer" to "long-term enhancement tool."
What I ended up creating was a Degraded Tree of Might—a living structure that drew small, sustainable amounts of nen-charged life force from the environment and compressed it into fruit.
The result?
Power-rich fruit that looked unassuming—plump, jewel-toned, faintly glowing. But once consumed, the real magic happened.
The fruit didn't give you raw power instantly like a wish. No, this wasn't a cheap fix. It gave you something better—vitality.
True, cellular-level vitality.
That vitality seeped into your core, nourishing your cells, enhancing your physical form, and strengthening your Nen foundation, slowly enriching your aura base For those who trained consistently while absorbing it, the effects were exponential. One fruit alone could potentially push someone's PL by 5 to 10 points, depending on how efficient their body was at metabolizing it.
But for those who mastered the absorption process—through meditation, refinement, and physical conditioning—the gains weren't just power.
We're talking:
Faster healingIncreased aura reservesHeightened sensesDelayed agingAnd, maybe one day… evolving beyond what a human was ever meant to be.
A new kind of transhumanism.
Nen-based evolution.
I planted the tree deep in the island, in a closed-off bio-dome saturated with natural aura. It only bore fruit once every few weeks. I restricted access heavily—only for me.
No mass-production. No shortcuts. Just a little miracle rooted in stolen inspiration and plagiarism.
And sometimes, late at night, when the island hums quietly and the stars are out, I go visit the tree.
I sometimes eat a few of the fruits myself. Not all at once, of course—I'm not trying to implode. Just enough to feel the pulse of something new stirring under my skin. Enough to let myself get familiar with the power before showing up to any meeting glowing like a nuclear battery.
I also started stockpiling them. Some I tucked away in hidden compartments in the headmaster's office. Others I locked inside nen-sealed cases only I could open. I even tossed one into a vault beneath the island, just in case I ever needed to simulate a "final arc power boost."
Naturally, I shared some with my… let's call them "friends."
Ging got one, of course. He sniffed it like it was a trap, then ate it in two bites like it was candy. Typical. He said it felt like his aura was "doing push-ups with weights on," and I had to admit, he looked sharper afterward.
Even Netero was impressed. He took one look, sensed the vitality inside, and raised his eyebrows so high I thought they'd fly off his face. Then he asked, "How much?"
And that's where the game began.
I smiled and leaned back in my chair. "Oh, they're rare. I can make Maybe one a month. Can't just hand them out like candy, y'know."
Netero: "Hmph. What's the exchange rate?"
Me: "One fruit… 100 million. Zenny. And a favor. A big one."
He stared at me for a solid ten seconds. Then chuckled. "You're lucky I like you, brat."
But in the end, he didn't bite. Said it wouldn't help him much at his stage. Too refined already. Said it was better suited for younger bodies, ones still malleable. Still growing.
Which—fine. I might've exaggerated the rarity a bit. I mean, yeah, it technically grows once (most like ten) every few weeks, but… let's just say my storage vault isn't exactly empty.
And hey, if people think something is legendary, then it is. Perception is nine-tenths of power.
One fruit at a time. I became the real fruit farmer ( sorry HISOKA)
.......
Location: The Headmaster's Office
Time: Afternoon—because no one should make life-changing decisions before lunch
Participants: The Protagonist (Current Headmaster, 18 years old, terrifyingly competent), Cheadle Yorkshire (Candidate), Mr. Worldwide (AI assistant, suspiciously chipper)
The walls of the Headmaster's office were lined with shifting bookshelves, glowing screens, and at least one sentient plant. A magical tea kettle whistled politely on the side table. Cheadle sat across from me, her tailored green jacket spotless, clipboard in hand, eyebrows already raised.
Mr. Worldwide's holographic form flickered in next to me, looking like Pitbull in a three-piece suit. "Welcome, Miss Cheadle. May I say, you look radiantly administrative today."
Cheadle gave him a look only a seasoned Hunter and medical professional could give to a talking hologram. Then she turned to me.
"I still don't understand why you're stepping down."
"I'm not stepping down," I said, "I'm… delegating. Taking a backseat. Becoming a spiritual guide to the chaos I built."
"You mean you got bored."
"Exactly."
She sighed. "Alright. Let's begin the formal part. Why do you want me as Headmaster?"
"You're responsible. You don't run off for 'mystery side quests' like Ging or Biscuit. You don't actively want to blow up the world like many of our future graduates. You believe in systems. Order. Rubrics."
"And how would you describe your current system?"
I paused. "…efficient."
Cheadle jotted something. "The curriculum?"
"Flexible. Nen threshold-based. Modular advancement. PL-based assessments. Pokémon integration."
She blinked. "Wait—why the Pokémon?"
"Ah. Right. Everyone gets a partner after 100 Power Level. Ethical bonding?
Long story short ,some form of companionship can help a lot of our students."
She scanned the student data on her clipboard. "You've created a balanced yet totally unpredictable hybrid of an arcane academy, a dojo, and a daycare with elite-tier potential."
"Exactly."
"Discipline protocols?"
"Mostly handled by the serious room and Sambica's student council."
She stared at me. "You realize this is not enough , right?"
I leaned forward. "But it works."
Silence stretched between us. The tea kettle sang a nervous little tune.
Finally, she set her clipboard down.
"I'll do it."
Mr. Worldwide clapped. "Dale!"
"But," she added, holding up a finger, "I want full authority on educational reforms, staffing, scheduling, and you're not allowed to vanish into the woods for three months and come back with a new project."
"Fair, you do realize that I'm not gings"
"Oh," she said, glancing back at her notes. "And no more shady deals behind the gym for the students"
"Define 'deals', also it's not me it's morena"
Cheadle sighed again. "You have no idea how much paperwork I'm going to be buried in, do you?"
"Oh, I do. That's why I hired you."
And just like that, I got myself a new Headmaster.
Cheadle took the reins of the school with the stern composure of someone who'd been preparing her entire life to untangle the knot I tied around this place—and to be fair, she probably was. The school felt… quieter now. Not in sound, but in the way a storm settles into rhythm after months of spontaneous lightning bolts.
With her in charge, I finally allowed myself the thought I'd been shelving for a while:
Once my first class of graduates walk across that stage, I'll be stepping down.
Not vanishing, not hiding. Just… stepping back.
There are around 2,300 students currently enrolled. A number I still struggle to believe considering this all started as a half-baked dream, some Nen shenanigans, a healthy dose of NPCs, and a lot of overengineering.
Out of them, 600 will graduate this year. Six hundred. Some of them I saw grow from nervous, barely-aura-literate kids into walking powerhouses with Pokémon by their side and actual dreams in their hearts.
And here's the wild part—about 400 of them decided to stay.
They chose Nova Island.
Not just as a school. Not as a checkpoint in their life.
They chose it as home.
They applied for the dual citizenship, picked up their N-insignia pins, scoped out the housing sectors built by the BOBs, and started helping the architects of this chaotic utopia build it even further. They believed in it—hell, in me—enough to plant roots.
So I kept myself busy. The graduation ceremony wouldn't prepare itself.
I watched as Mr. Worldwide coordinated logistics like he was organizing a concert, occasionally singing "Fireball" under his breath while ordering confetti drones. The staff—NPCs, volunteers, Cheadle's new reforms—castle elfs who were cleaning up every corner of campus.
I even found myself polishing the stage personally. Not because I had to.
Because I wanted to.
This ceremony wouldn't just be the closing of a chapter. It'd be a handoff. A farewell to an era I somehow I created. One where I was Headmaster, creator, cheater, inventor, and accidental role model.
Soon I'd be none of those things well not all of the time, the island and school still mine and no one can take was I don't want them to take or know something don't want them to know
And honestly?
I was lookin forward to the future.