Tonpa received no answer.
The red countdown continued ticking before his eyes, indifferent to his stare and to the last shred of hope he had placed in the possibility that the mission was merely a bad joke.
Five years to become the strongest Hunter in the world, then conquer and rule the Dark Continent—two feats that had eluded people capable of killing him with a single move.
Meanwhile, his greatest qualifications were a large belly, a bag full of poisoned juice, and a criminal record that had unfortunately failed to make the trip with him.
He closed his eyes, drew in a slow breath, and released it just as carefully.
The mission did not disappear, but the trembling in his fingers eased.
‘Panicking won’t send me back, and it won’t make this body any thinner.
Think now.
Fall apart when the schedule allows it.’
He dismissed the mission timer and summoned his status panel.
The translucent interface reappeared, displaying the same information as before.
[Host: Tonpa]
[Level: 1] [Experience: 0/100]
[Talent: E]
[Stats:]
[Strength: F] [Upgrade Cost: 10 Nen]
[Speed: F] [Upgrade Cost: 10 Nen]
[Flexibility: F] [Upgrade Cost: 10 Nen]
[Endurance: E] [Upgrade Cost: 100 Nen]
[Intelligence: E] [Upgrade Cost: 100 Nen]
[Nen Points: 0]
[Nen Status: Unawakened]
[Additional Features:]
[???: Locked]
[???: Locked]
[???: Locked]
Tonpa stared at Strength, Speed, and Flexibility.
Ten points were enough to raise any one of them to the next rank.
The problem was that he did not possess a single point, nor did he know how to earn one.
The three F grades stood beside one another like a collective assessment of his new life.
Talent, meanwhile, was separate from the rest of his stats, with no upgrade option beside it.
Whatever an E-ranked talent meant, it appeared he would simply have to live with it.
‘So all I’ve received so far is neatly organized ignorance inside an elegant panel.’
He studied the interface for another moment.
‘Even my victims used to hesitate longer than I did.’
Then he remembered that he had already selected “Yes.”
He decided not to pursue that line of thought.
Instead, he focused on the Nen Points entry.
‘How do I obtain them?’
The system remained silent for a moment, long enough for him to wonder whether he was expected to discover the answer himself.
Then a new notification appeared.
[Nen Points can be acquired by deceiving or persuading others.]
Tonpa’s eyebrows rose.
A second notification followed.
[Rewards increase according to the target’s strength, intelligence, and resistance to influence.]
He stared at the words, then slowly turned his gaze toward the surrounding crowd.
For the first time since his arrival, it seemed that life had not abandoned him entirely.
He had spent years doing precisely this.
He could not shatter a wall with his fist or outrun a car, but he had once convinced a rational man that an investment company registered three days earlier would double his savings within a week.
‘Finally, an ability based on my actual qualifications.’
He could not decide whether to thank the system or feel insulted that it had assessed his character so accurately.
Before he could investigate further, a sudden disturbance spread through the applicants.
Conversations died away one after another as every face turned toward the front of the tunnel.
A tall, slender man had appeared, dressed in an unusual purple suit, with a thin mustache extending along both sides of his face.
Tonpa had not heard his footsteps or noticed the moment he arrived, but he recognized him immediately.
Satotz.
The man stood before the crowd and calmly swept his gaze over the applicants.
He did not raise his voice by much, yet his words reached all the way to the back of the tunnel.
He introduced himself as the examiner for the First Phase, then told them that their only task was to follow him to the site of the Second Phase.
He gave them neither a distance nor an estimated arrival time.
He merely warned that anyone unable to keep up would be eliminated from the exam.
Uneasy murmurs spread through the crowd.
“That’s all?
We only have to follow him?” asked a man near Tonpa.
Another tightened the belt around his waist.
“It can’t possibly be that easy.”
‘For the first time today, someone said something that justified keeping his head attached.’
Satotz turned and began walking without another word.
His calm steps gradually became a steady jog, and after a brief hesitation, the applicants surged after him.
The entire crowd moved at once.
Tonpa found himself running with them before consciously deciding to do so.
The body seemed to understand what it was doing better than he did.
His feet settled into a stable rhythm, and his breathing became controlled in a way that contradicted his heavy appearance.
Perhaps his E-ranked Endurance was not merely the result of carrying that belly around for years.
The original Tonpa had participated in more than thirty Hunter Exams.
Even if he had never passed, repeatedly fleeing dangerous phases still counted as physical training.
‘Apparently, regular retreat is a certified fitness program.’
Gon, Kurapika, and Leorio moved through the middle of the group, while Killua glided between the applicants on his skateboard as though he were out for a leisurely ride.
At the front, Satotz maintained his pace without showing the slightest effort.
Tonpa chose a position near the center of the crowd.
Staying close to the front would waste his energy, while falling behind would make him one of the first to be eliminated if the pace increased.
The middle was safer, and it placed a comforting number of bodies between him and Hisoka.
Using strangers as human shields was not particularly noble, but he could not recall the system asking him to be noble.
A notification chimed inside his head as he ran.
[Side Quest Generated.]
Tonpa’s expression tightened.
‘Of course.
The first mission left far too much room for hope in my life.’
He opened the notification.
[Side Quest: Pass the Hunter Exam.]
[Reward: Determined according to performance.]
[Penalty for Failure: Forced transfer to the Dark Continent.]
His stride faltered, and he nearly collided with the applicant ahead of him.
He recovered his balance with difficulty, then stared at the message, hoping he had somehow misread it.
The penalty was not death this time.
It was death after a very long journey.
Blurred images of the Dark Continent surfaced in his memory: colossal creatures, unnatural diseases, and calamities that had wiped out entire expeditions.
Even the finest fighters currently inside the tunnel were not prepared to enter it yet.
So what chance did Tonpa have when his Strength was ranked F and his finest weapon was a bottle of laxatives?
‘The main mission pretended to be merciful and gave me five years.
This one didn’t even give me five minutes.’
He cursed his luck, the system, and whatever entity had sent him here before forcing himself to focus on his breathing.
He had no choice but to pass the Hunter Exam—something the original Tonpa had failed to accomplish after dozens of attempts.
But the original Tonpa had not possessed a system.
Nor had he been Asnos.
Several minutes passed, and some applicants’ breathing began to grow heavier.
The pace was not particularly fast yet, but anxiety was already causing many of them to waste their energy.
Tonpa approached a thin young man running with both hands clenched around the straps of his bag.
The youth kept staring at Satotz’s back as if expecting the examiner to vanish and abandon them inside the tunnel.
Frightened, nervous, and unfamiliar with Tonpa.
A suitable beginning.
Tonpa slowed slightly until he was running beside him.
“This is your first attempt, isn’t it?”
The young man gave him a wary look, then nodded.
“Is it that obvious?”
“You’re watching the examiner more than the road.
Every rookie does that.”
The young man’s expression shifted.
His suspicion did not disappear entirely, but interest entered his eyes.
“Have you taken the exam before?”
Tonpa offered a small smile, careful not to make it look condescending.
“More times than I care to admit.”
That was true, even if the experiences did not personally belong to him.
Truth was the best wrapping for a lie.
It saved a con artist the trouble of inventing everything from nothing and gave him something solid to stand on when the rest began to collapse.
The young man swallowed.
“Do you know how long this phase is?”
Tonpa could have told him the truth: the phase was absurdly long and could continue for hours.
But aside from being discouraging, the truth would earn him nothing.
He pointed toward a distant bend in the tunnel.
“This section is shorter than it looks.
We’ll reach a rest point after a few kilometers, so maintain this pace and you’ll be fine.”
Relief immediately appeared on the young man’s face.
His shoulders loosened, and his breathing became steadier.
“Really?
Thank you.
I thought we might be running for hours.”
“Don’t worry.
The examiners are harsh, but they’re not insane.”
Tonpa nearly choked on the sheer audacity of the lie.
He knew perfectly well that the examiners were insane, and some of them carried sharpened playing cards to prove it.
A notification appeared before him.
[Deception registered.]
[Nen Points +1]
[Experience +1]
Tonpa blinked, then stopped his smile from widening.
It had worked.
This was no theory or vague promise from the system.
One simple deception had earned him a real point, and ten similar lies could raise his Strength, Speed, or Flexibility to the next rank.
He looked at the young man beside him and felt something close to professional gratitude.
‘My first customer in this world.
He’ll only lose some stamina and hope, so this is still the most ethical transaction I’ve ever conducted.’
Tonpa gradually fell back, then summoned the system interface while continuing to run.
His first point had appeared in the deception record, and the experience counter had changed as well.
[Nen Points: 1]
[Experience: 1/100]
[???: Locked]
[???: Locked]
[???: Locked]
He focused on one of them, but all he received was a brief notification.
[Unlock conditions have not been met.]
‘Wonderful.
Even the system meant to save my life hides its conditions in the fine print.’
He closed the interface and began searching for another target.
He avoided anyone who recognized Tonpa or openly stared at the number sixteen on his chest with disgust.
His body’s old reputation would make deceiving veterans difficult, but most rookies had never heard of him—and there were plenty of them nearby.
He told two applicants that Satotz was watching anyone who moved too close to the front and that crossing a certain point would be considered a challenge to the examiner.
The pair exchanged nervous glances before dropping behind Tonpa.
[Deception registered.]
[Target Count: 2]
[Nen Points +2]
[Experience +2]
Both of his balances rose to three.
‘Even lies come with bulk discounts.’
Next, he approached a muscular applicant who was forcing his way toward the front by shoving aside anyone in his path.
Tonpa told him that Satotz might suddenly reverse direction to test their reaction speed, and that conserving his strength was more important than gaining ground now.
The man was not easily convinced.
He looked at Tonpa’s belly, then at his face, as though Tonpa’s physique alone were reason enough to reject any advice he offered about running.
Tonpa had to mention how many times he had participated in the exam, describe several previous trials, and add small, useless details whose only purpose was to make the rest of his story sound true.
The man finally hesitated, then reduced his pace.
[Deception registered.]
[Target Difficulty: Moderate.]
[Nen Points +3]
[Experience +3]
Both totals reached six.
‘So the system doesn’t care only about the number of lies.
The quality of the victim matters more than the quantity of words.’
That made sense.
Deceiving someone frightened was not equal to deceiving someone strong or intelligent, just as persuading an old man to transfer ten dollars was not the same as convincing a company to hand over its entire budget.
Tonpa continued running as pain gradually began to spread through his legs.
He did not allow it to interrupt his work.
Poverty was an excellent motivator, and the threat of forced transfer to the Dark Continent was even better.
He selected four rookies running near one another, then approached them in a confidential tone that suggested he was sharing information no one else was meant to hear.
He told them that this phase secretly evaluated teamwork and that applicants who maintained a stable formation would receive an advantage in the next stage.
They did not believe him immediately.
Tonpa had to cite the number of exams he had taken, describe several previous trials, and point toward other small groups while claiming they had already discovered the hidden rule.
The four rookies looked toward the groups he had indicated.
Those applicants had no idea they had just become supporting evidence in an unrelated scam, but the fact that they happened to be standing close together was enough.
After a brief discussion, the four rookies were convinced and fell into formation behind Tonpa.
A new window appeared.
[Group deception registered.]
[Target Count: 4]
[Nen Points +4]
[Experience +4]
[Total Nen Points: 10]
[Experience: 10/100]
A small thrill ran through Tonpa, reminiscent of the feeling he used to get whenever a successful bank transfer notification appeared on his screen.
Ten points, gathered near the beginning of the First Phase alone.
If he maintained this pace, he might be able to improve his body before they reached the end of the tunnel.
In a world where a child could tear a man’s heart out with his bare hand, advancing from “humiliatingly weak” to “acceptably weak” was no minor achievement.
‘The first round of capital has been raised.’
He glanced back at the four applicants behind him and found them working hard to maintain their imaginary formation.
‘And no successful enterprise can exist without investors.’
Before he could open the Stats section, the system interface suddenly trembled.
The first unknown slot lit up, and its question marks slowly began to fade.
[Unlock condition for the first feature fulfilled.]
[Unlocking new feature…]