The Hunter Association provided only one form of accommodation: tents—one per person. On the designated rest day, although tensions occasionally flared and arguments broke out, no one crossed the line. Fighting during rest hours was a violation of the exam rules—one drop of blood spilled, and your qualifications were revoked on the spot.
And so, Jon and the others endured the uneasy peace of the day, surrounded by a stifling atmosphere of suppressed hostility.
As dawn broke, the sun rose slowly from the sea, casting its golden rays across the surface of the water. The ocean sparkled like a sheet of shifting silver and gold. Onshore, sunlight filtered through Ballowe Island's thick canopy, scattering green light onto the heads of the gathered examinees.
For some reason, Jon felt unsettled by the green shimmer. It filtered through the trees like watchful eyes—beautiful, yet strangely ominous.
Although the sun was now fully risen, the moon still lingered faintly in the sky, refusing to relinquish its place. It was high tide, and the waves had swallowed the beaches, forcing all examinees to retreat deeper inland.
According to the schedule, transport to the venue for the second phase of the exam would arrive at 6:30 AM. Jon had woken up at 5:30, starting his morning routine with light training to prepare both body and mind. By 6:00, all the examinees had assembled, waiting anxiously.
The buzzing of cicadas and the steady crash of waves against the reef gnawed at their patience. Still, they waited in silence for the next phase to begin.
Then—A figure appeared on the water, drawing closer at a rapid pace. It was a shirtless man in his mid-twenties, surfing across the waves with casual grace, his balance impeccable.
Jon narrowed his eyes.
That ability... it felt familiar. Hadn't he seen this guy in the original story? Some background character, maybe? Jon didn't dwell on it. This wasn't the time.
"Yo, Old Boone."
"Hey, Little Grahame. Been a while."
The two men embraced, though the hug looked awkward—like two people from vastly different worlds trying to bridge a strange familiarity. Jon, listening in, caught enough of their conversation to learn the name of the surfing examiner: Grahame. Despite his youthful appearance, he was actually in his forties.
Then came the announcement.
Second Phase of the Exam: Swim to Orphalese Island
The examinees were to swim 45 kilometers east to Orphalese Island. While a daunting distance, it was a test befitting would-be Hunters. Many of the examinees couldn't use Nen yet, but their physical capabilities were monstrous enough to overcome it.
Grahame gave them a day and a half to reach the island.
However, no one jumped into the sea right away. They knew better.
The waters surrounding Ballowe Island were teeming with sharks. Normally, these predators might have avoided human contact, but the residual injuries from the first test had left many bleeding—and sharks were drawn to the scent of blood like iron to a magnet.
Jumping in now would be suicidal.
Some began gathering logs, hoping to construct makeshift rafts. But without a proper map of reef locations, setting out blindly on bamboo rafts could be just as fatal.
Jon, however, remained calm.
From the corner of his eye, he noticed Shalnark looking at him. Jon nodded. Shalnark returned a small smile and quietly made his way into the forest.
A short while later, he returned, carrying several freshly-killed animals—still warm, blood leaking faintly from their wounds.
Then, with casual precision, Shalnark hurled the carcasses into the ocean, far from the shoreline.
Without waiting, he sprinted down the beach, leaping into the surf with practiced ease. Jon watched closely as the sharks—dozens of them—swarmed toward the animal blood. The diversion worked.
Shalnark slipped into the water and began swimming, bypassing the danger zone entirely.
Jon narrowed his eyes.Why didn't he use Black Voice? He could've controlled the sharks directly with his antennae... but instead, he chose this more primitive approach.
There had to be a reason.
Was it to conserve energy? Or was he hiding the full extent of his Nen abilities from the other examinees?
This little trick fooled most of the examinees—but it couldn't deceive the more seasoned participants or the sharp-eyed examiners, many of whom were Hunters themselves.
Speaking of which, the Phantom Troupe, for all their infamy as master thieves, are ironically not very good at infiltration or stealth.
More often than not, the moment they make a move to steal something, they're discovered. Most of the Troupe members are far too distinctive to blend in. Uvogin and Phinks, for instance, stand out immediately with their bizarre appearances and overwhelming presence.
Add to that their volatile tempers and constant, barely-contained killing intent, and you're left with a group that seems pathologically allergic to subtlety. Sure, their intelligence is enough to defeat enemies—but strategy isn't exactly their strong suit.
You could almost say the Phantom Troupe has its own philosophy of stealth: "If no one is left alive to report you, then you were never discovered."
They call it assassination. The rest of the world calls it mass murder.
During their infamous auction heist, they didn't sneak into the venue. They simply slaughtered everyone present, then calmly looted the treasures at their leisure. That's their brand of "theft."
The Phantom Troupe had other infamous encounters with the exam process. Both Uvogin and Nobunaga had taken the Hunter Exam before. Predictably, Uvogin failed the intelligence test and responded the only way he knew how—by killing everyone. That entire session ended in disaster. All the proctors and participants were wiped out, and both Uvogin and Nobunaga were blacklisted from the Hunter Association.
Thankfully, some examinees were more rational in this exam. They chose to find another way—bypassing the path Shalnark blocked instead of confronting him head-on. Had they not done so, the Hunter Association might've been facing another massacre.
Maybe it was this habit that influenced Shalnark, or maybe he just didn't care enough to be discreet—but his escape strategy wasn't exactly subtle, and several people noticed it.
Of course, noticing is one thing. Having the ability to imitate it is another.
Only someone like Shalnark—an elite with Nen mastery—would dare attempt something so reckless. Sharks, after all, have limits. The diversion wouldn't last forever, and once they caught on, even the smallest misstep could lead to death. It was a high-risk maneuver.
Still, despite its simplicity, his plan was undeniably creative. Even the examiners had to acknowledge its ingenuity.
Others soon followed Shalnark's example, diving into the sea or hastily building makeshift rafts in an attempt to reach Orphalese Island, which lay close to Barowe Island.
But most would never make it.
Many of the examinees had small, unnoticed wounds—barely visible, but enough to draw predators. Sharks, with their acute sense of smell, could detect the faintest trace of blood from miles away.
And then there were the moving sea reefs—massive, shifting underwater obstacles that frequently capsized rafts and disrupted swimmers. The current in these waters was irregular, chaotic. Swimming through it required immense physical endurance and finely honed instincts just to stay afloat.
Jon chose to swim as well. Since Shalnark hadn't used his Nen abilities, Jon decided to hold back too, keeping his true strength in reserve.
Almost all of the examinees had now thrown themselves into the ocean in a desperate dash. What had been a quiet seascape moments ago turned into a scene of chaos—a frenzy of bodies splashing, struggling, and bleeding. Blood churned in the water, attracting predators, while some participants tried to use the confusion to eliminate their rivals.
But this had no effect on either Shalnark or Jon.
Shalnark had swum far beyond reach, steadily disappearing into the horizon. Jon, on the other hand, remained at the very back of the group. His youthful appearance and small frame made him seem harmless—just a mere elementary school student. Most didn't even bother acknowledging him as competition.
Silently, Jon chose a floating wooden stake to serve as his vessel. He closed his eyes and began sensing the movements of the sea reef.
Some participants had already reached the halfway mark of the reef zone.
But Jon didn't feel pleased by their progress.
This can't be it.
The Hunter Exam would never be this straightforward.
Sure, the distance was impressive by ordinary standards—perhaps even overwhelming in his past life. But here, in the world of Hunters, such feats were well within reach for many.
From time to time, the examiners did intervene to rescue drowning participants. However, anyone who had to be saved was automatically disqualified. Survival was the minimum requirement.
Then, just five minutes in, the sky began to shift.
Clouds rolled in quickly, thick and ominous. The sun vanished behind a curtain of gray, and the wind picked up. The previously calm sea turned restless again. Storm clouds gathered rapidly on the horizon.
Rain.
The examinees quickly came to the same conclusion—this was no coincidence. Could this be the second trial of the Hunter Exam?
Hunters often face extreme weather during missions. It was only fitting that examinees be tested on their endurance and composure in such conditions.
This downpour wasn't natural—it was planned.
Examiner Grahame had enlisted his close friend, Morel, to assist in monitoring the storm conditions and helping with rescues. While the examiners were responsible for salvaging those at risk, the consequences were clear—once saved, the examinee was out.
In the chaos, Jon used a thread of [Stone Free] to discreetly pull Lindsay along, preventing him from being swept away and disqualified.
Jon himself floated in the waves, buffeted by the wind and rain. He knew he could no longer afford to hide his capabilities.
He activated his Ripple breathing technique, drawing energy from his controlled respiration, and tapped into his Stand ability, wrapping invisible threads around his limbs to anchor and guide him through the turbulent sea.
But the rainstorm, fierce as it was, didn't last.
It was only a sudden, violent squall—common in ocean regions. After a short while, the rain passed. The waves began to settle. The clouds dispersed, revealing the clear blue sky once more. Seagulls circled overhead, their cries echoing across the now calm waters, painting a picturesque scene above the still-churning sea.
Jon wiped the water from his eyes.
Really? Was that it?
He blinked, staring at the horizon.
And then he saw it—A dark shadow slowly emerging in the distance.
His eyes widened in disbelief.
"What… is that?"