Chapter 34 – The Brilliant Osren
"Please follow me," said Satotz, his calm voice echoing through the tunnel. "Before we begin, I must remind you—the Hunter Exam is extremely dangerous. Even a slight lack of courage or luck can result in serious injury… or death. If you still wish to continue, come with me."
He turned and began walking forward at a steady, unhurried pace.
The crowd—hundreds of aspiring Hunters—followed in silence, their footsteps filling the corridor like a heartbeat. Osren and his group were at the very back; arriving last meant they'd started last.
Satotz's even tone carried easily through the air. "I now confirm that this year's first test begins with four hundred and five examinees."
Originally, there had been four hundred and six… but one had already been removed by Hisoka's "warm-up."
Leorio looked around, counting roughly in his head. "No one's dropped out yet? Even knowing the risk? Guess that's… impressive."
"Hmm?" Gon tilted his head, noticing something off. "Hey, is it just me, or is everyone walking faster?"
"The exam has already started," Osren replied simply.
Tonpa, who was walking nearby, chuckled. "You noticed that, huh?"
Kurapika adjusted his steps, his analytical gaze sharp. "The examiner's pace is increasing."
Indeed, Satotz's strides were growing longer, faster. Walking became jogging; jogging became running.
Tonpa nodded approvingly. "So this year's first phase is a marathon, huh? Looks like your friend's right—the test has begun."
Satotz's voice floated calmly back through the tunnel, unaffected by his own rising speed. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Satotz, examiner for the first phase of the Hunter Exam. I will now lead you to the site of the second test. I believe by now you've realized… this journey itself is your first trial."
He didn't pant. He didn't even sound winded. His tone remained smooth and controlled, which somehow made the challenge feel even more intimidating.
It hadn't even been ten minutes, and already the enormous crowd split into two sections.
The first half—the veterans—kept pace with Satotz. The rest, slower to react or simply less experienced, fell behind. Gon and his friends were, naturally, in the second group.
For first-timers, no amount of focus could match the rhythm of the pros.
Soon, they could barely even see the examiner ahead.
Leorio tried pushing forward through the wall of people, but was instantly shoved back. "This is insane! There's no way to get to the front! These people are built like tanks!"
"Gon," Osren said calmly, "we're moving up. To the front."
"Huh? But it's packed! How?" Gon asked, blinking.
"Yeah," Leorio huffed. "I just tried that—you saw what happened. It's impossible!"
Kurapika frowned thoughtfully, scanning the mass of bodies. His brain ticked rapidly, calculating possibilities, but after a few moments he sighed. "There's no feasible route."
Tonpa, trotting a few steps behind them, smirked. These rookies are too easy. No brains, no strategy. This won't even be a challenge.
Up ahead, Killua had slowed his pace slightly, curious. Two boys around his own age were talking—one of them, the one with the calm eyes and dark hair, was giving orders with a confidence that piqued his interest.
Heh… let's see what this guy does, Killua thought, deciding to keep watching.
"Relax," Osren said with a faint smile. "I've got a plan. Just follow my lead."
Because really—what's life without a little flair?
If you're not showing off once in a while, are you even living?
To pull this off, Osren had actually done quite a bit of prep work beforehand. And now was the perfect time to cash in on it.
The group exchanged uncertain glances but nodded. Whether they believed him or not, all eyes were on him now.
Osren started jogging lightly, weaving between people with surprising grace. When he passed Hisoka, he slowed just enough to whisper something only the two of them could hear.
"Hisoka," he murmured, his voice low and steady, "pretend I don't exist. Just… give me that much, yeah?"
Hisoka's crimson eyes flicked toward him, amused.
Osren continued under his breath, as if explaining to himself, "A glass of specially prepared juice, mixed with a Basilisk egg. That should buy me a little peace… maybe even forever."
In truth, Hisoka had never cared much about people who didn't interest him. To him, Osren was still just background noise—a face in the crowd.
And that was exactly how Osren wanted it.
He smiled faintly. For now, staying invisible is the smartest move.
After all, no one pokes a sleeping lion—especially one who juggles razor-sharp cards for fun.
So in short—if Hisoka could be made to permanently ignore him, the plan was solid.
A Basilisk egg, a rare cut of steak, and a custom-blended drink—surely that was enough of a "tribute."
At the very least, being treated as nonexistent didn't mean invisible. It just meant that as long as Osren didn't do anything suicidal—like, say, jumping up and down in front of Hisoka—he wouldn't attract the magician's attention.
Still, it was a risky play.
Because, really—imagine being Hisoka, and some random stranger suddenly walks up to you just to say, "Hey, please pretend I don't exist."
Even Osren had to admit, if the "Face Fruit" ability hadn't judged correctly, that might've been his last sentence alive.
But the gamble had to be made.
He and Gon were destined to cross paths with Hisoka, and survival was nonnegotiable. Gon and Killua were Togashi's golden children—plot armor included.
Osren wasn't.
So he had to build his own.
He quickened his pace, running past Hisoka. The magician's attention didn't follow. No gaze. No killing intent. No reaction.
Osren exhaled slowly, relief washing through him.
The contract worked.
With the basics handled, it was time for step two—making a scene.
He cleared his throat loudly.
"Ahem!"
Then, in a voice that rang through the tunnel, he declared:
"Everyone running up ahead—give me a little room, yeah? Let me through!"
His voice echoed across the corridor, bold and commanding enough for everyone to hear.
For a second, silence.
Then—
"Huh!?"
Both Tonpa and Leorio nearly tripped over their own feet.
"What the hell was that!?" Leorio gawked, mouth open.
Tonpa's jaw clenched, equal parts confusion and disbelief. Is this kid serious!?
Even Killua, gliding effortlessly on his skateboard, twitched mid-motion—the board tilting for half a second before he steadied it.
Kurapika blinked. "...That's your plan?"
Leorio shot Osren a look like he'd lost his mind. "You've gotta be kidding me! You just… asked them?!"
Tonpa snorted internally. So much for cleverness. You're just a naïve kid who doesn't know how the world works. These people don't even know you, and they're all competitors—why would they move aside for you?
Kurapika frowned, silently analyzing the situation. "There's no logic in it… this isn't how you get through a crowd."
But Gon—oh, Gon.
His eyes shone like twin emeralds, his entire body tense and ready to move.
Because he believed.
If Osren said the path would open—then it would.
Pure faith. A die-hard fan's conviction.
And then—
Shfff.
It happened.
The crowd ahead—without really thinking about it—shifted. Bodies moved slightly left, slightly right.
And just like that, a narrow path opened straight down the center—barely wide enough for two people to run side by side.
The strangest part?
No one protested.
Most of them had heard the shout and rolled their eyes. But then they saw who'd said it—just a kid, smaller than most of them, his voice steady but harmless.
What's the harm in letting him through?
It's not like first place mattered in a marathon like this.
And besides—who wants to be that guy arguing with a kid in the middle of the first test?
So, one by one, they moved aside.
A path. Wide enough for Osren and his group to sprint through.
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