POV: Sullivan Prentiss Morteuxe (Age 11)
The end of the First Phase deposited the remaining applicants onto a high, windswept ridge overlooking a dense, dangerous jungle.
Exhaustion was a visible, unifying factor, but Sullivan felt a detached satisfaction. He had passed the initial filtration test by being the smartest, not the strongest.
He checked his inventory: water reserves were good, his energy was managed, and his mind was already constructing predictive maps of the dense jungle terrain below.
As he was performing a quick, subtle stretch—a habit Silas had ingrained in him—a shadow fell over him.
"You're slow," a voice said, low and devoid of warmth, like the chill of a winter morning.
Sullivan looked up, his jade eyes coolly assessing the new variable.
Standing over him was a girl, perhaps a year or two older than him, but radiating an unsettling maturity. She was slender, almost wispy, but her posture was that of a coiled spring.
Her hair was a startling shade of deep crimson, pulled back severely, highlighting sharp, intelligent features. Her uniform was simple, utilitarian black leather—no frills, no weapons visible, yet she carried herself with the lethal confidence of a razor's edge.
"I am not slow," Sullivan countered, not standing up, maintaining his position of calm neutrality. "I am efficient. I conserve resources by allowing the reckless to expend theirs first. I entered the Marsh with the lowest energy deficit."
"You entered after the clown, Hisoka," she corrected, her dark eyes pinning him like a specimen. "That is not efficiency; that is waiting for someone else to confirm the rules."
Sullivan paused, his mind calculating her intent. Her critique was perfectly accurate and unnervingly perceptive.
"A fair deduction," he conceded, finally standing. "And your name is?"
"Kaelin," she replied. She didn't offer a last name, and Sullivan knew better than to push. "You are the Morteuxe boy. Sullivan."
His anonymity had failed. Not by a lack of caution, but by a level of observation equal to his own.
"You've been tracking my movements since the start, then," Sullivan stated, not a question, but a factual confirmation.
"I track everyone. But you are unique. You survived the Marsh by observing the Examiner's foot position and ignoring the mental lure—the mimicry of your mother's voice. Most of the others, the strong ones, were relying on their physical sense of direction, which the fog ruins. You relied on deductive reasoning. That is the kind of mind that survives the later phases."
Kaelin stepped closer, her tone shifting to an impersonal, strategic demand.
"I need a navigator for Phase Two. An unpredictable variable is about to be introduced, and I need a mind capable of adapting faster than the brute force candidates. You will ally with me."
Sullivan raised an arrogant eyebrow. "And why would I sacrifice my solo efficiency for a partnership? Alliances are a dilution of focus and a guaranteed weak point."
"Because I just saved your life, Morteuxe," Kaelin said, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
She extended her hand, and in her palm lay a small, black, segmented insect—a Whisperer Tick—currently paralyzed.
"This little creature uses a subtle form of Nen—a type of low-grade Enhancement—to stick to targets during high-stress situations. It secretes a toxin that causes disorientation and muscle fatigue. It was planted on your jacket shoulder during the rush into the tunnel. You were already infected."
Sullivan felt a cold spike of shock—a sensation he rarely permitted himself. He had performed a self-scan, relied on his basic Ten, yet he hadn't perceived the tiny, passive threat.
A stealth tactic designed to filter out applicants who are internally focused and miss peripheral, subtle dangers.
"When did you remove it?" Sullivan asked, his tone now respectful, acknowledging the debt.
"During your 'efficient' stretching routine moments ago. I observed it moving. I owe you nothing, but you owe me, and I collect debts in strategic value." Kaelin's eyes were firm.
"Phase Two is about hunting. Hunters rarely work alone. You need to learn the value of a silent partner, Morteuxe. I am that partner."
The Second Phase: The Deadly Hunt
Before Sullivan could fully process the implications of the debt and the alliance, a new examiner appeared: Menchi, a towering, aggressive woman with culinary knives strapped across her chest.
"Welcome to the Second Phase!" Menchi bellowed, looking deeply bored. "You must venture into the Banyan Jungle and capture a creature known as the Gourmet Boar. It is fast, extremely dangerous, and surprisingly intelligent."
Kaelin didn't wait. She grabbed Sullivan's arm, her grip surprisingly strong, and pulled him toward the jungle entrance, speaking rapidly.
"The Gourmet Boar is an Enhancer type creature. Its defense is near-impenetrable, and its charge is fatal. Its weakness is the Banyan Roots—it uses them as a hunting ground, which restricts its massive speed. We are going to herd it."
"Herd it?" Sullivan questioned, scrambling to catch up to her rapid tactical pacing.
"Yes. You are a genius manipulator. Use it." Kaelin paused at the edge of the jungle, her crimson hair blending seamlessly with the shadows. "The Boar focuses on speed and power. It has a tactical flaw: tunnel vision. If it commits to a charge, it cannot abort quickly.
Your job is simple: find the largest knot of Banyan roots and manipulate its charge."
The Herding
Kaelin and Sullivan moved with startling synergy. Kaelin, with her professional tracking skills, led them deep into the twisting, shadowed jungle. Sullivan, relying on his Perception, mapped the terrain in his mind—the hidden dips, the solid anchor points, the large, vine-covered root structures.
They found a massive, ancient boar, easily the size of a small car, its tough hide shining like metal. It was currently routing through the forest floor, its tiny eyes full of predatory intelligence.
"It knows we're here," Kaelin hissed. "I'll draw the initial charge. When it commits, you find the trigger point."
Kaelin performed a calculated movement: she dashed directly into the boar's line of sight, then executed a sharp, impossible reverse, narrowly missing a lunging bite. The boar, enraged by the speed and the challenge, committed its charge—a thunderous, ground-shaking momentum focused entirely on the red blur that was Kaelin.
Kaelin executed a series of precise dodges, moving the massive beast toward the large, three-foot-high root system Sullivan had mapped out.
Sullivan, watching the incoming stampede, felt the familiar, cold focus of his mind take over. Reactivity. My greatest weakness, but now, my greatest weapon.
He didn't move. He simply waited, calculating the precise micro-second when the boar's head would be fully committed to the charge, and its front feet would be irrevocably positioned between the two main root spurs.
He saw the moment: the massive boar, its eyes fixed on Kaelin, was two strides from the root system.
Sullivan raised his hands and let out a single, sharp sound—not a shout, but a low, piercing whistle that he focused with the full, latent power of his developing Mind attribute. It was designed to do one thing: shatter the creature's singular focus.
The boar flinched. Not a physical stop, but a mental flicker—a micro-aberration in its singular tunnel vision. In that millisecond of distraction, its front right foot hit the ground a fraction of an inch too far forward.
CRUNCH.
The massive, charging animal was instantly crippled. Its foot wedged deeply between the two roots, its momentum became its undoing, flipping it harmlessly over the massive obstacle. It landed on its side, winded, dazed, and unable to move.
Kaelin appeared instantly, pulling a thin, specialized net from her pack and throwing it over the stunned creature.
"Impressive," Kaelin breathed, looking at the trapped beast. "You didn't use force. You used a psychological interrupt to weaponize the terrain. That was pure, cold manipulation."
Sullivan, his heart still pounding but his breathing steady, approached the captured boar.
"I am not interested in physical contests, Kaelin," he replied, already checking the boar for life signs. "I am interested in flaws. Every system, every creature, and every mind has a flaw. The key is knowing what to sacrifice to expose it."
He looked at Kaelin, the girl who had saved him and then immediately demanded his obedience. He had successfully completed the first stage of a professional alliance.
The world was indeed chaos, but he was learning how to write the variables in his own Ledger.