Chapter: The Swamp Trial
The evening breeze stirred the fallen leaves, brushing across Jon's back as the golden afterglow of sunset cast long shadows behind him. He sat slumped on a rock, steeped in quiet despair. A small figure stood nearby—a delicate-looking girl with short brown hair, face full of worry.
Correction: Jon shouldn't say girl.
The companion Jon had so nobly dragged along was a man. He introduced himself as Lindsay. Naturally, Jon didn't believe him. How could someone this cute be a boy? Cross-dressing plots were old news, and Jon was confident he wouldn't fall for such a cliché.
That was, until Lindsay pulled that out.
Let's just say... it was very convincing. And horrifying. The voice changer was a nice touch, too—absolutely seamless. But the most humiliating part? His was bigger.
Jon stared at the ground, crushed. What kind of world was this?
Even the infamous mangaka Togashi was guilty of these crimes—creating clearly feminine characters like Kurapika and then swearing up and down they were male. In a world this malicious, even picking up girls had become an expert-level skill.
"Um... thank you," Lindsay said softly, breaking Jon's spiral.
Lindsay had arrived on the island by helicopter, part of the same wave of examinees. His dream? To become a Medical Disease Hunter. Earlier, he'd discovered a unique herb, but a nearby woman mistook it for a Xyston flower, leading to a small misunderstanding and panic.
After sharing some dry food, Jon used [Stone Free] to string a perimeter warning line and went to sleep, still mentally recovering from Lindsay's... truth.
The Next Morning
Jon and Lindsay wandered aimlessly through the dense forest.
"Damn it," Jon cursed, brushing a branch aside. "We'll never find the Xyston flower like this."
"Are you... looking for the Xyston flower?" Lindsay asked shyly.
"I haven't found it yet. If I don't, I'll be eliminated," Jon muttered.
"I know where some are," Lindsay said simply.
Jon stopped dead. "Then why didn't you say that earlier?!"
"You didn't ask."
...Fair. Annoying, but fair.
Barlow Island was vast, filled with unique terrain and dangerous flora and fauna. The jungle climate meant Jon was swarmed by insects the moment they left camp—though Ripple at least neutralized the venom.
After nearly an hour of hiking, they arrived at a swamp deep within the forest. A clearing opened up before them—trees felled and charred, backpacks discarded on the fringes. At the center of the swamp, a small grassy island stood, lush and untouched.
Through Lindsay's telescope, Jon spotted the unmistakable shape of Xyston flowers swaying gently on the tiny lawn.
But between them and the prize was 40 to 50 meters of muck. Anyone who fell in was essentially disqualified. No wonder the area looked abandoned. Jon walked to the ruins, recognizing a familiar item—Tonpa's crumpled blue jacket.
The flowers were still there, untouched. That meant Tonpa's group hadn't secured them. No signs of struggle. No blood. No gunfire residue. Just... silence.
Jon formed three theories:
They were attacked and eliminated early.
They assessed the swamp and gave up.
They died here.
The first theory was plausible. Only someone like Shalnark—or Jon himself—could take down armed men silently using Nen or Stand powers. But Shalnark would've taken the flowers.
The second theory? Most likely.
The third? Less probable. What could kill three armed men without leaving a trace?
Unless Tonpa, being Tonpa, overestimated himself and tried to swim...
Jon eyed the murky waters. Something about this swamp made his skin crawl.
And then, from the depths—a massive shadow surfaced.
A gray-black snake rose from the water, its head the size of Jon's torso. Easily six or seven meters long. It glared at him with golden, vertical pupils. Predatory. Silent. Dangerous.
Jon's throat tightened. [Stone Free] materialized behind him, threads already wrapped around a tree in case he needed to make a quick escape.
"Was this what killed Tonpa's group...?" he whispered.
But the snake didn't move. It loomed, cold and still—then suddenly lost all tension. Its head slumped and it collapsed, lifeless.
Jon blinked in shock.
Following the snake's body, he spotted a gaping wound near the shore—a massive bite mark nearly severing its body.
One bite. Something had killed this monster in one bite.
Jon didn't hesitate. He grabbed Lindsay and yanked the thread attached to the tree, launching them backward.
Just in time.
The swamp exploded.
A massive creature emerged—a blood-red crocodile, its vertical golden eyes locking onto them with eerie calm. It was over ten meters long, had eight thick legs, and no visible scars. Not a natural animal.
A supernatural beast.
Lindsay's face turned ghostly pale. His legs trembled. But Jon's voice snapped her back.
"RUN!"
He obeyed without hesitation.
Jon turned to flee—but then: crack. A branch snapped beneath him.
The creature's head lifted. Its eyes locked onto him.
Jon's heart froze. His hands trembled. Instinct screamed: Run.
"Calm down... breathe..." he muttered to himself, trying to stay focused.
But the crocodile moved.
Not just moved—launched. Its body shot forward like a cannonball, breaking the water surface in a blur of red.
In an instant, it was inches from Jon's face.
He could smell its breath.
"F—"
Jon had already prepared one hand to grab a tree in the distance. With his other arm wrapped around Lindsay, he shot out like Spider-Man—just as the crocodile's jaws snapped shut where they'd been a second before.
"Whew... Close one."
Although the Baro Crocodile had missed its bite, its tongue had flicked out mid-lunge, splattering saliva—and worse, Baro leeches—onto Jon. Lindsay only got a few. Jon, on the other hand...
"Damn it, why do you guys always go for me?!"
The crocodile crashed through several giant trees before it finally stopped, leaving a trail of splintered wood behind it.
Hissss— What power. Jon finally understood where all the broken trees came from. That kind of momentum couldn't be stopped easily. If it charged, it had to hit something—or someone.
"Unless you're a monster-tier Enhancer, no way you're tanking that."
Still, there was a silver lining: the Baro Crocodile wasn't agile. It needed all that force to move, and just as much to stop. That gave Jon an opening.
Without hesitation, he flung Lindsay into the mud more than ten meters away."Get outta here!"
With her out of the picture, Jon could fight without holding back.
Then—burning pain.His arm was on fire. He looked down to see several fat, dark leeches stuck to his skin. With a grimace, he tore them off, blood spurting from the wounds.
"Salt would've been better, but I don't have that luxury right now."
The Baro Crocodile seemed to catch the scent of his blood and let out a low growl, saliva dripping.
Jon's body shifted, parts of him unraveling into thread as [Stone Free] materialized behind him."Alright, come on then, you overgrown handbag."
He struck a dramatic JoJo pose."A person's abilities have limits… unless they transcend humanity!"Then frowned."Wait, I'm not done—"
Too late. The Baro Crocodile didn't care for theatrics. It lunged forward again, another full-body charge.
Jon's upper body whipped sideways, threads unraveling from his waist up. His lower half remained planted, allowing him to twist unnaturally and avoid the snap of those massive jaws. The sight seemed to confuse the crocodile's tiny brain.
It kept charging anyway, relying on brute force.
"Tch. You're not even gonna let me finish my monologue?"
Jon's upper body slithered to its side.
This was a move inspired by Orochimaru from Naruto—a soft-body fighting style that made the user's form disturbingly flexible. It increased resistance and allowed attacks from bizarre angles. Ugly, but effective.
With [Stone Free], Jon could replicate that and more.
He darted around the Baro Crocodile's side, fists elongating.
"Gomu Gomu no—Gatling!"
Yeah, shamelessly plagiarized. But effective.
"Ora Ora Ora Ora Ora!"
A barrage of punches slammed into the Baro Crocodile's side, but…
"So hard!"
Its hide was like steel. A full-power [Stone Free] might've broken through, but his own destructive power was still developing. Not quite at the "Star Platinum" tier.
Jon leapt back two steps as the beast began to turn.
Halfway through its pivot, it stopped—and opened its mouth.
Wait. Why isn't it moving?
Jon's heart chilled. He heard the whistle of something slicing through air.
—It's the tail.
The crocodile had feinted its rotation and instead swung its massive tail like a whip.
It was already too late to dodge.
Jon reacted on instinct. His body unraveled, converting to threads as the tail hit.
BOOM!
He flew like a ragdoll, arms shielding his face, knees tucking up. The impact still hurt like hell.
The Baro Crocodile, expecting an easy kill, lunged—only to bite nothing.
Jon had used the physics of his launch, his own body mass, and trajectory, to steer clear.
"That… is my escape route. " He grinned grimly.
"You might have muscle, but I have high school-level physics."
Not that he was unscathed.
Pfft. Jon spat out blood. Even as thread, the impact had dealt damage. His organs were rattled, ribs aching.
But he was still breathing.
Still fighting.
Suddenly, the Baro Crocodile twisted violently—its entire body rolling in one swift, brutal motion.
"Yikes—!"
Jon realized what was coming a split second too late.
The beast caught him in the roll.
BOOM—CRUNCH—
The world spun into a blur of scales, mud, and crushing force. Jon tumbled with the crocodile, his ribs compressing under the monster's mass before he was flung like a ragdoll and slammed into the ground, dazed and half-crushed.
On the African savannah, predators used this very tactic: the Death Roll—a crocodile's natural, horrific finishing move. If it couldn't tear off flesh with a single bite, it would spin violently, making the prey dizzy, breaking bones, snapping limbs.
The Baro Crocodile, being a supernatural beast superior to normal Crocs, had perfected it.
And unlike Jon, it wasn't affected by spinning at all.
His vision swam. Then—crack—a claw pinned his waist to the ground.
"Tch—!" Jon reacted instantly, turning his lower body into threads. He slithered partway out, but the crocodile's full weight still pressed down.
[Stone Free] lashed out with all its strength, pounding into the crocodile's soft underbelly.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
The hits echoed like fists on a steel drum.
"Ugh... So this is what Jotaro felt under the Road Roller," Jon grunted. "Except [Stone Free] isn't [Star Platinum]—not even close."
Power? Speed? Not A-rank. And Jon couldn't stop time. This thing was heavier than a damn road roller.
He was mostly free—except for his foot, still pinned beneath its bulk. Thankfully, it had already unraveled into thread, minimizing damage, but his mobility was crippled.
"Damn it... And of course, my second Stand's [Atum]. Useless in fights. Why couldn't I get [Grateful Dead] or something?"
Jon's body was durable, bolstered by his training in Ripple Breathing Technique, and among Hunters, he was no slouch physically. But compared to a monster like the Baro Crocodile, he was still outclassed.
If this dragged on any longer, he'd die.
"No time for stalling." He clenched his fists. "I'm ending this."
The crocodile sprawled out, body flat against the ground, pressing its advantage.
Jon's lower half unraveled again. Threads slithered out, and his upper body surged up from the ground like a genie from a lamp.
"ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA!" he roared, hammering the beast's side in a fury of blows.
The Baro Crocodile didn't even flinch.
"Tch—Fine! ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA—!"
His fists blurred, raining down in a storm of thread-augmented strikes. Still, the beast endured. Its scales were too thick, its body too massive.
Was this really a dead end?