HunterxHunter: Reborn With Crazy Potential

The moment I step into the room from the hallway, the air presses in, thick and suffocating. Silence swallows me whole, the kind of quiet that makes my people unnerved. The space stretches on, swallowed by a fog so dense it blurs everything beyond my reach. The walls and ceiling are lost in the mist, and beneath my feet, the ground feels uneven soft, and treacherous. Moss, dead leaves, and loose earth cover the floor, every step sinking just a little too much. The sounds of my footsteps vanish instantly, absorbed by the heavy stillness.

This room, It's a vast, dimly lit forest except it's unlike any forest I've ever seen. Towering trees twist up, their gnarled branches disappearing into the dark abyss. A weak, pale light struggles to break through the canopy, casting only faint shadows. Dark vines coil around the trunks, alive, twitching in a way that would unsettle anybody else. The air reeks of damp earth, decay, and something sharper, like burning wood a strange contrast to the suffocating mustiness around me.

I breathe deeply, feeling the weight of the place pressing down as if the very space is aware of me. No wind, but every so often, the temperature shifts. A whisper of something brushes my ears. No, not a whisper more like a presence. Something's watching me.

Then, without warning, the loudspeaker crackles to life, and Lippo's voice slices through the silence. "This is your second trial, the Hidden. By the way, we've hired some of the prisoners as examiners, and for every hour you spend here, one year is taken off their sentences. Your goal is to avoid getting hit and catch the predators. Oh, and if you die, their sentences get all the hours you have left as years off. So, if you were to die right now, they'd get 66 years off."

I smirk, already forming my plan. My En wraps around the room, sensing the hidden mechanisms embedded in the walls. An extra wall covered in mirrors creates the illusion of space, multiplying the trees and making the room seem far larger than it is. Between the walls, passageways twist, and I sense the presence of 15 prisoners each armed with a bow or spear.

They don't know who they're dealing with. I've trained my Nen to perfection. This test is nothing.

I cloak myself in some shadows, using the tree's shadows to blend in and become invisible to anybody without Gyo. I move silently through the fog. The passageways are narrow, and I slip into one without making a sound. They won't see me coming unless they can use En or Gyo. But even then, they're as good as dead. They don't have the subtlety, or the precision to attack me.

The first prisoner doesn't even see me coming. He's fumbling with his spear trying to get it into a comfortable hold. I move in silently, my feet barely disturbing the moss beneath me. In one fluid motion, I disarm him, grabbing his wrist and twisting until he drops his spear with a choked gasp.

Before he can react, I swipe the spear from his hand, the metal glinting in the misty air. He stumbles back, his eyes wide with surprise, but I don't give him the chance to recover. I lunge forward, sending the blunt end of the spear slamming into his chest. The force knocks him back against a twisted tree trunk, and his breath whooshes out in a desperate, panicked gasp. I don't waste time. A sharp thrust to the neck takes him down. His body crumples, limp, and I move on.

The next prisoner seems to sense me coming. He raises his spear swiping at something he can't see, but the fog disorients him, and he swings wide. I duck, feeling the air cut by the sharp edge of his weapon, and at that moment, I'm already on him. My hand grips his arm, twisting it violently, the crack of his shoulder joint audible in the thick silence. His weapon falls from his hand, and before he can scream, I slam the heel of my boot into his knee, collapsing his leg. He hits the ground hard, his breath ragged, but he doesn't get a chance to recover. A quick slash to the nape kills him with ease.

I keep moving, my senses on full alert using En, my Nen wrapped tightly around the room. The others are lost in their fear, disoriented, and panicked, seeing their "Comerades" be killed by something none of them can see, and that's exactly what I need. Their confusion makes them easy prey.

I catch sight of the third prisoner trying to slip into one of the narrow passageways, his feet sloshing through the wet earth. He's slower than the rest his breathing shallow, his movements jerky. I'm on him before he even touches a foot to the passageway. I slide into the passage, and as I turn around to face him, I drive the spear's point into his chest. He collapses to the ground with a strangled scream, and I leave him behind, moving forward.

The next few prisoners don't even get a chance to raise their weapons. Their eyes dart around, frantic, but they can't find me. They're already too late. I step out of the shadows, quick as a whisper, and disarm the fourth. His spear clatters uselessly to the ground, and before he can make a move, I spin, using the momentum to strike him across the face with the flat of the spear. His nose breaks with a sickening crack, blood spraying across the floor. He stumbles back, clutching his face in shock. I don't let him go further. A quick stab to the temple dispatches him, and I move on.

The next one, a larger man with heavy footsteps, charges at the space where the last man died swinging blindly, weapon raised high. His movements are too predictable. I let him come, and, grab his arm as he swings again. I twist, using his momentum against him, and slam him into the ground, pinning him with my knee. His winded gasp fills the air as I knock the breath from him. He tries to grab a dagger from his belt, but I'm faster. I pin his neck to the ground with my boot, twisting until I hear the satisfying snap of his bones.

As the remaining prisoners scatter, their movements more frantic now, I find myself enjoying the rhythm of the massacre. Each strike is measured, efficiently, as if this is all a practice drill. They can't hide from my senses. The fog does little to obscure my awareness because En is active, and with each passing second more of them die.

The next prisoner, smaller and quicker, runs past me unable to see me. I spin on my heel, intercepting him before he can even think about escaping. He tries to get away, but I catch him by the back of his tunic, yanking him off balance. His breath hitches, but it's too late for him to fight. I slam him against a tree, knocking the wind out of him. I follow up by collapsing his windpipe and he crumbles to the ground unable to breathe.

One by one, they fall. Their panic is palpable, their fear almost tangible in the air. They don't know how to fight back, not against an opponent they can't even see. My movements are fluid, and my mind is sharp. Each prisoner falls with almost surgical precision.

By the time I reach the last one, he's trembling, his weapon shaking in his hands. His eyes are wide with terror, the fog twisting around him as though it, too, can sense his fear. He tries to speak, to beg, but I silence him with a single, cold look.

He swings wildly, but I'm already there disarming him with a single flick of my wrist, sending his weapon flying. He's wide open now, vulnerable. But instead of finishing him immediately, I let him struggle. His breath comes faster, his panic rising as he realizes how hopeless his situation is. I could end him now but instead, I watch him falter, his movements sluggish as his fear takes over.

Finally, I decide it's time to finish him. I step forward, grabbing him by the collar of his tunic, and with one swift motion, I slam him against the moss-covered ground his head hitting the ground first. His body goes limp almost immediately probably dying of B.F.T (Blunt Force Trauma)

The room goes eerily silent, save for the distant rustling of leaves and the soft, rhythmic sound of my own breathing. The prisoners are all down, and the room seems to hold its breath. There's no celebration, no joy. Just the quiet aftermath of what's been done.

The ground shifts beneath me. The floor sinks down, revealing a circular staircase. Without hesitation, I step forward, my feet firm beneath me, ready for whatever comes next. The next challenge awaits. And I'm already prepared.

the floor starts sinking and revealing a circular staircase-like structure. I step forward, my feet steady despite the disorienting change, and look down. Below, another room awaits me vast, empty, its air thick with stale pressure. Gray ash covers the floor, absorbing every sound, and leaving me in unnerving silence.

No windows. No doors. Just endless walls, stretching upward into a fog so thick I can't see where it ends. The ceiling is a swirl of mist, and the emptiness feels infinite, but it presses on me, like a box closing in.

Then, Lippo's voice crackles again, breaking the oppressive silence. "This is the Void of Resilience. It's a sensory deprivation chamber meant to test your endurance. You'll be left here, and you can say 'stop' anytime between 1 and 5 hours. Afterward, you need to guess how long you've been here, rounding to the nearest 10 minutes. If you say stop before 1 hour or after 5, you fail. Good luck."

I grin to myself. I've had a timer on my wrist the entire time, hidden beneath my sleeve. I've been timing since the first trial. This is just a formality.

I check the time 65 hours, 47 minutes. No one's noticed. I'm sure of it. I settle into a stance, the cold air pressing in around me. I wait for the timer to hit 64 hours and 47 minutes.

But just as I relax, a spear suddenly flies toward me, aimed directly at my chest. I don't even flinch. Another follows, then another four spears, each spaced perfectly to cover every possible dodge.

I activate my En to about a 40-meter radius, feeling the spears before they even reach me. I catch one midair, using it to deflect the others that come from behind. For the next hour, spears keep coming relentlessly, their metallic hiss slicing through the silence.

The timer goes off, and I shout, "Stop!"

I glance at the broken spears scattered around me, the ones I've deflected or caught. "It's been 1 hour and 1 minute since I entered this room and a full hour since you finished explaining," I say, my voice calm, and steady.

I hear Lippo's sharp intake of breath through the speaker. He's probably confused, unsure how I know the exact time. He probably doesn't expect me to have a timer. Not that it matters.

A blinding light washes over me, and I squint, struggling to adjust. A black trap door appears in the corner, swinging open to reveal a steep metal slide, and without hesitation, I jump, feeling the rush of wind as I slide down, faster and faster, into the next room just as vast, just as confounding as the last.

Lippo's voice crackles again, cutting through the chaos. "This is the Room of Cognitive Trials. It's designed to mirror the complexity and challenges of an entire human life. This place will test your mind, pushing the limits of perception, memory, and reasoning. To pass and reach the final stage, you must solve all the puzzles and escape."