The sea, enraged by the downpour, had shed its usual calm and sapphire-blue hue. Under the dim light of the storm, it had turned a deep, greyish-black—like an endless abyss. Just looking down stirred the eerie sensation of being pulled into its depths.
Towering waves, each several meters high, crashed violently, carrying the strength to crush anything in their path. Lightning split the sky apart, illuminating the storm-tossed ocean for brief, terrifying moments. It felt as though both the heavens and the sea had decided to vent their fury at the same time.
Jon was thoroughly exhausted by the time the storm began to subside. Fortunately, it had been no more than a passing squall—short but brutal. Had it continued any longer, it was likely that the entire group of examinees would have been wiped out.
Compared to the overwhelming power of nature, human beings were laughably small. Even a monstrous Nen user like Uvogin would have eventually succumbed if caught in such a storm for too long.
The number of examinees had already been reduced by more than half. The examiners, curiously, were nowhere in sight.
At that moment, a massive shadow loomed overhead, casting Jon and Lindsay in darkness.
What a ship...
The bow was razor-sharp, slicing cleanly through the waves, and the vessel itself stretched long and imposing—like something out of the Age of Exploration. As it drew nearer, Jon's eyes narrowed. This wasn't an ordinary ship.
The hull was lined with rows of sealed windows—gunports. Anyone who had seen Pirates of the Caribbean would recognize them instantly: they were meant for cannons.
Of course.This was the Hunter World, where logic could be erratic. Despite having technology roughly equivalent to the early 2000s—computers, mobile phones, satellites—people like Gon still traveled the seas in wooden sailboats. It was a bizarre blend of progress and tradition.
This ship, though... it wasn't ancient, but it clearly had a history. The hull bore the scars of battle—patched wooden planks, burn marks, and splinters that hinted at cannon fire and combat.
An armed vessel, Jon assessed silently.
Several ropes were tossed overboard. Jon hesitated for only a moment. Exhausted, soaked, and aware that his strength was waning, he helped Lindsay up and climbed aboard.
Others followed, recognizing that they were unlikely to reach the island on their own. The storm had drained them, and the ship offered a chance at survival—or at least a place to rest. It was a gamble, but for many, there was no other option.
Of course, not everyone was so trusting.
Several veterans kept their distance, choosing to swim the rest of the way. They didn't believe in coincidences—a sudden storm followed by the timely appearance of a ship? Too suspicious. These seasoned examinees continued onward, wary of being trapped.
And they were right to be cautious.
The moment Jon and Lindsay stepped aboard, they were surrounded by five or six large men, each brandishing a rifle. Jon instantly understood the situation.
He raised his hands slowly. With Lindsay beside him, and his body still recovering, now was not the time to fight back. The armed men barked orders. Jon said nothing, following their instructions silently and with practiced calm.
"Clang."Cold iron wrapped around his wrists. Handcuffs.
He and the other new arrivals were escorted to a holding area below deck. There, dozens of other captives sat or slumped—many clearly not examinees. The atmosphere reeked of fear and desperation.
The faces were varied: smugglers, petty criminals, unfortunate travelers. But one thing was certain—none of them were innocent.
Forget about kind pirates. That was a fantasy.
"If you're kind, you wouldn't be a pirate," Jon thought bitterly.
A rough-looking man stepped forward. He had a long scar across his chin and a cruel glint in his eyes.
"I'm the first mate of this ship," he barked. "And I'm here to tell you trash—if you cooperate, I won't kill you."
From him, Jon learned the truth: they were prisoners of the Redbeard Pirates, the most notorious pirate crew in these waters. A few days earlier, they had been pursued by a professional bounty hunter. Desperate, they were now using hostages to bargain for their lives.
Over fifty captives were crammed aboard this ship. If even one of them were killed during the Hunter Exam, the Hunter Association could face serious backlash from the public.
Jon sighed inwardly. He'd made a rookie mistake.
Maybe it was all the anime and movies—he had half-expected pirates to proudly fly their skull-and-crossbones flag high on the mast, like in One Piece. But real pirates weren't that stupid.
Displaying a pirate flag would instantly make them a target. If a Hunter or a law enforcement vessel caught sight of it, they'd swoop in immediately. And merchant ships? They'd flee at the first glimpse of such a flag.
No, real pirates hid in plain sight—just like this ship had done.
And now, Jon was stuck in their den.
Jon barely registered what the first mate was saying. It didn't matter. His top priority now was to recover his strength. After all, the body is the foundation of revolution. Everything else could wait. Once he was fully recovered, he could plan his counterattack.
As for the handcuffs?
A joke.With Stone Free, his body could unravel into threads at will. Who had ever seen handcuffs that could restrain thread? Obviously, no one. If it came down to it, Jon could escape his shackles in an instant.
That was why he remained calm.
Of course, not everyone was so cooperative. Some resisted—and were promptly beaten to death by the pirates. Their bodies were thrown into the sea to feed the fish. Jon hadn't seen it with his own eyes, but he'd overheard enough to believe it. And honestly? The pirates weren't wrong. Killing one or two defiant prisoners sent a message. As long as they kept the rest alive, they still had bargaining power with the Hunter Association.
Jon had long since given up on romantic ideas of becoming a Pirate King. The reality was too disgusting.
Pirates were nothing like the charismatic adventurers from manga. In truth, they were mostly a bunch of twisted freaks—ugly, violent, and perverted from years at sea with no way to vent their desires. This was a cesspool of society, filled with feral men whose morals had long rotted away.
So Jon ignored them.
He didn't scream, didn't cry, didn't curse like the others. Nor did he gather with the rest to whisper about escape plans. He just sat in silence, biding his time—waiting to strike them in the back when it hurt the most.
Roughly two hours passed—maybe more. Then, Jon heard it.
Thud. Thud.
Cannon fire.
The perfect opportunity had finally arrived.
The pirates rushed the prisoners onto the deck. Across the choppy waves, a large warship loomed, its cannons smoking. A huge, burly man with a fiery red beard stepped forward and began shouting at the opposing ship.
Jon couldn't understand the words exactly—some dialect or local jargon, maybe. But the intent was clear: "Surrender, or I'll execute a hostage every five minutes."
To make his point, Redbeard pulled out a pistol and shot one of the prisoners in the head.
Bang.
It happened so fast that Jon didn't even have time to process it. One second the man was standing there, the next his lifeless body crumpled to the deck, blood soaking the wood.
Across the water, the bounty hunter finally spoke, trying to calm Redbeard down, clearly hoping to stall.
"Don't come any closer! I'll kill them!" Redbeard threatened again, his voice booming across the sea.
Whatever plan the bounty hunter had for a stealthy melee takedown was now completely shattered.
Jon's eyes narrowed. It was time.
His body unraveled into string, seamlessly escaping the handcuffs.
『King Crimson』, come forth.A shimmering crimson aura flared beside him as his Stand emerged, and Epitaph activated.
A flicker of the future.
Jon watched as Redbeard lifted his pistol—again—and fired directly at him.
Three shots.
Jon tilted his head slightly. Two bullets missed entirely. The third grazed through his thread-like form, harmlessly.
Identical. Just as Epitaph had predicted.
Jon smirked.
"K I N G U... C R I M S O N."
Time skipped.