Netero’s smile remained in place as he turned toward Menchi.
“What do you think?”
She did not answer immediately.
She was still staring at Tonpa, but the irritation she had shown during the applicants’ protests had been replaced by interest.
“It’s an excellent proposal.”
Expressions shifted throughout the crowd.
Even Tonpa needed a moment to make sure he had heard her correctly.
Menchi continued, “Spider Eagle eggs are among the finest ingredients found in this region, and obtaining them requires more than brute strength.
In fact, I was planning to propose the exact same test if the applicants were granted another chance.”
She looked directly at him.
“I didn’t expect any of you to know about them.
You have a good understanding of ingredients, and you chose a suitable test.”
‘Of course I did.
It was your idea in the first place.’
From where he stood, Buhara added that boiled eggs would be easier on his stomach after all the pork he had eaten.
Tonpa had no idea how a man who had devoured dozens of pigs could use the phrase “easier on my stomach” with a straight face, but he kept the question to himself.
Tonpa maintained a modest expression and lowered his head slightly as notifications began appearing before him again.
[Deception Registered.]
[Nen Points +1]
[Experience Points +1]
[Deception Registered.]
[Nen Points +2]
[Experience Points +2]
Menchi’s praise made his speech sound more sincere than it had any right to.
Applicants who had remained hesitant only moments earlier now began looking at him differently.
Gratitude alone meant nothing to the System, but whenever hesitation gave way to belief in Tonpa’s supposed sincerity, another notification appeared.
Netero nodded slowly.
“You didn’t merely object.
You offered an alternative the examiners could accept.
Well done.”
Several applicants behind Tonpa nodded after hearing the Chairman’s judgment.
Their remaining doubts began to fade.
Another chime sounded, followed by one more.
[Deception Registered.]
[Nen Points +3]
[Experience Points +3]
[Deception Registered.]
[Nen Points +1]
[Experience Points +1]
Tonpa could no longer keep track of the windows.
They overlapped in front of his eyes until he was forced to dismiss them just so he could see Netero.
‘Even the Chairman is helping me.’
Nothing in Netero’s expression suggested that he had believed a single word of Tonpa’s supposed concern for the other applicants.
That no longer mattered.
The Chairman’s praise alone was enough to make the others believe.
Menchi stood and announced that Tonpa’s proposal would become the replacement test for her portion of the Second Phase, provided the Chairman approved. You are reading on NovelPing, the official source.
Netero agreed, and cries of relief rose from the applicants.
Some looked at Tonpa with gratitude, while those familiar with his past remained considerably less enthusiastic.
He was preparing to retreat into the crowd before he attracted any more attention when a different window appeared.
[Warning.]
[The main events have diverged from their original course by 0.1%.]
Tonpa stopped where he was.
His gaze remained fixed on the decimal point.
The number was small enough to look harmless, which only made the warning above it more unsettling.
‘Zero point one percent?’
Until now, events had unfolded almost exactly as he remembered them.
Hisoka had appeared in Swindlers’ Swamp, Gon had saved Leorio, and everyone had failed Menchi’s test.
Tonpa’s interference had changed how a few people viewed him, not the course of the story itself.
But now, he had proposed a test Menchi was supposed to suggest.
He dismissed the window and tried to steady his breathing.
The future had not collapsed because of a single sentence.
The outcome remained the same as he remembered it: they would travel to the mountain, retrieve the eggs, and continue with the Hunter Exam.
But the System would not have warned him if the difference were meaningless.
‘Wonderful.
The future has started moving.’
A divergence of 0.1% was insignificant for now.
But only one day of the Hunter Exam had passed, and Tonpa had barely begun forcing himself into major events for the System’s rewards.
If every intervention added another small fraction, the path he knew would not remain recognizable for long.
‘What will be left after five years?’
He had no answer, nor did he want to hear one from the System if it involved the Dark Continent.
He cursed himself for stepping out of the crowd, then cursed the System for rewarding him for doing it.
His knowledge of future events was the best tool he possessed for staying alive, yet every successful intervention could make that knowledge less useful.
On the other hand, if he stayed away from important events, he would gain points far too slowly and earn none of the main characters’ trust.
He would remain weak until he encountered an exam his memories could not save him from.
‘Interfere, and I ruin everything.
Stay out of it, and I die.’
There did not seem to be a third option.
Before Menchi could lead them away, the airship pilot approached Netero and whispered something to him.
The Chairman listened, then motioned for the man to address everyone.
The pilot raised his voice.
“We apologize, but the airship requires brief maintenance before it can take off safely.
It should take approximately thirty minutes.
Please wait here until the work is complete.”
Low murmurs of protest spread among the applicants, but Tonpa barely heard them.
‘I don’t remember this.’
He looked toward the airship.
Several crew members moved along its side, and two of them opened a metal access panel near the engine.
The problem appeared genuine rather than another trick arranged by the examiners.
His memory was incomplete, and he had admitted that to himself more than once.
Still, the malfunction occurring immediately after the divergence warning made it difficult to dismiss.
‘Did I somehow break the engine too?’
It made no sense, but fear did not require logic to get started.
He watched Netero and Menchi for any indication that something was wrong, but both received the news calmly.
Perhaps it truly was routine maintenance.
Or perhaps the System had placed a frightening number in front of him, and now he was seeing the consequences of his actions in everything around him.
Tonpa decided to put the percentage out of his mind for the time being.
He could not repair the airship, reverse what had happened, or lower the number by worrying about it.
The examination hall was reopened, and the applicants settled around the tables to wait for the maintenance to finish.
Tonpa initially chose a distant seat, only to notice Gon, Killua, Kurapika, and Leorio sitting together at one of the tables.
There was an empty chair.
Sitting alone immediately after delivering a speech about solidarity would look suspicious.
‘Doing good deeds is exhausting.’
He walked over and pulled out the chair without asking permission.
Leorio looked at him immediately.
“Aren’t there any other tables?”
“There are, but this chair is empty.”
“It was empty for a reason.”
Before the argument could continue, Gon spoke.
“It’s fine.
Tonpa is the one who gave us another chance.”
“He hasn’t given us anything yet,” Leorio said.
“All he did was make a speech.”
Tonpa sat down and rested his forearms on the table.
“Then there’s no need to thank me.”
Leorio opened his mouth, then closed it again when he failed to find anything in the response worth arguing with.
Kurapika watched Tonpa for a moment longer than necessary, while Gon smiled as though the matter had been resolved satisfactorily.
Leorio leaned back in his chair, muttering under his breath, while Kurapika remained silent.
Killua, meanwhile, rested his cheek against his palm and stared at Tonpa as if waiting for him to do something suspicious.
Tonpa did not entirely disappoint him.
He wanted to know whether he had collected ten points or fifty.
If he had reached one hundred, he could upgrade one of his Stats to D-rank—or make a draw from the Hunter’s Lottery.
The second option was obviously worse, which made it far more tempting than it had any right to be.
He closed his eyes for a moment and summoned his Status panel.
It appeared before him alone, while to everyone else, he merely looked as though he were resting.
His gaze moved across the lines.
Then stopped.
His breath caught, and his fingers tightened around the edge of the table without him realizing it.
He blinked once, then leaned slightly closer to the panel as though distance were responsible for what he had seen.
“What’s wrong?” Killua asked.
Tonpa did not answer.
He read the panel again from the beginning, more slowly this time.
Then he read it a third time.
The number was still there.