Speedrunning the Hunter Exam, the Sole Successful Candidate

The first test grew increasingly chaotic. The candidates were all fighting each other for number tags, and gradually, the brawl turned real.

The corner where Leo stood remained relatively quiet for the moment—perhaps because it was out of the way, or perhaps because his earlier indifference toward Tonpa had made others wary of him.

But soon, someone set their sights on this "lone straggler."

A man with a mohawk and facial tattoos quietly crept over.

He held a dagger in a reverse grip, his footsteps light. He was clearly skilled at sneak attacks.

When he was two meters from Leo, he suddenly accelerated, stabbing the dagger toward Leo's side!

Leo did not even turn his head.

His left hand rose, striking after but arriving first as his fist slammed into the attacker's abdomen.

"Ugh—!"

The tattooed man's eyes bulged. His whole body doubled over like a shrimp, and the dagger slipped from his hand and fell to the floor.

He slowly dropped to his knees, collapsed facedown, and lost consciousness.

Leo bent down and removed his number tag: No. 288.

"One point."

He tucked the tag into his pocket and turned his gaze back to the chaotic hall.

Leo lightly rolled his neck, his joints making soft cracking sounds.

"Better finish this early."

He straightened up. The next second—Leo vanished from where he stood.

He moved so fast that, to ordinary eyes, he left behind only a blurry afterimage.

He charged into the densest part of the crowd. Everywhere he passed, candidates fell in swathes like harvested wheat!

No flashy moves. No unnecessary motions.

A punch, an elbow, a knifehand strike, a sweeping kick.

Every attack struck a vital point with perfect precision, the force controlled just right—enough to knock someone unconscious, but not enough to cause permanent injury.

Bang!

A candidate was sent flying. Bang!

Another fell. Bang! Bang! Bang!

Leo weaved through the crowd like a tiger among sheep.

His Level 41 Enhancement-type physical abilities, combined with combat skills honed through Biscuit's five months of hellish training, made him completely at home in this kind of melee.

The candidates could not even see where the attacks came from.

They only felt a gust of wind sweep past, then a sharp pain at the back of their necks. Their vision went dark, and they knew nothing more.

Tonpa was quietly creeping up behind a young candidate, gripping a short club coated in anesthetic, a triumphant sneer on his face.

Just as the club was about to come down—his body froze.

From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a dark figure flashing past from the side. Wherever it went, seven or eight candidates who had been fighting dropped in unison, without even letting out a scream.

The dark figure stopped and became visible ten meters away.

It was No. 321!

That young man who had told him to "get lost"!

Leo turned his head and glanced at Tonpa.

That gaze was cold and calm, as though he were looking at some insignificant object.

Every hair on Tonpa's body stood on end, and his heart nearly stopped. He wanted to run, but his legs were so weak that he could not move.

Tonpa collapsed limply to the ground, the short club slipping from his hand.

He gasped for air, cold sweat soaking his back.

"M-monster..."

He muttered as he watched the dark figure constantly moving through the hall, watched the candidates fall one after another.

The next second, he too lost consciousness and crumpled to the ground.

Ten minutes. Only ten minutes.

The only person still standing in the hall was Leo.

Of the 754 candidates, 753 lay sprawled across the floor, all unconscious.

The scene resembled a battlefield, only without any blood—Leo had controlled himself well, and no one had suffered a fatal injury.

Silence. Deathly silence, in stark contrast to the madness of ten minutes earlier.

Leo stood in the middle of the hall, surrounded by piled-up bodies.

He began collecting number tags—one by one, starting with the nearest.

The process took some time, considering there were more than seven hundred of them.

In the end, he had a large bundle improvised from candidates' jackets, stuffed full of number tags.

Leo dragged the bundle toward the elevator.

On the rooftop of the building.

Buzidora leaned against the railing, looking down at the traffic flowing through the streets below.

The wind was strong, making his white trench coat flutter loudly.

He checked his watch—forty minutes had passed.

"Too slow."

He muttered to himself, displeasure in his voice.

"This year's candidates are far too weak. By this point in previous years, at least a dozen people should have made it up here."

He recalled the test he had designed—knock down others and seize their number tags; three tags to advance. Cruel, but effective.

Hunters were dangerous by nature. Those without strength did not even deserve the right to participate.

"Ding—"

The elevator arrived.

Buzidora turned and watched the elevator doors slowly open.

Finally. The first candidate to advance.

But when he saw the person stepping out of the elevator, along with the massive bundle that person was dragging, he froze.

Leo stepped out of the elevator and tossed the bundle onto the ground.

Crash—the bundle came apart, and hundreds of number tags spilled out, reflecting a dazzling white glare beneath the sunlight.

The cards piled into a small mountain, nearly burying Leo's calves.

Buzidora's eyes widened.

He looked at the pile of tags, then at Leo, then back at the pile. His mouth opened, but no sound came out.

"Them?"

Leo dusted off his hands.

"They're all asleep."

He paused, then added.

"My name is Leo."

Buzidora stared at the pile of number tags, his mind blank for several seconds.

Then he abruptly crouched down and grabbed a handful of tags to inspect—real. Every one of them belonged to a candidate in this year's exam. From No. 1 to No. 754, all were here except Leo's own No. 321.

"This... this..."

Buzidora looked up at Leo, his expression complicated.

"You alone... took down everyone..."

"Collecting these took me quite a while."

Leo spoke casually.

"So, are we proceeding to the second test?"

Buzidora fell silent.

When he had designed the test, he had anticipated all kinds of situations—the strong rapidly gathering three number tags and advancing, the weak being eliminated, even the possibility of a few accidental deaths.

But he had never imagined that someone would simply take down every candidate and collect all the number tags alone.

This had already gone beyond the scope of a "test."

This was someone here to wreck the place.

Buzidora stood, took a deep breath, and pulled a phone from the inner pocket of his trench coat.

He walked to the other side of the rooftop, turning his back to Leo as he dialed a number.

The call was answered quickly.

"What is it, Buzidora? Is there a problem with the test?"

"There's been a bit of... an accident."

Buzidora lowered his voice and quickly explained the situation.

The other end of the line was silent for a long time.

"Are you sure? Of 754 candidates, 753 were defeated by the same person?"

"I'm sure. All the number tags are here, piled up like a small mountain."

"...What is that candidate's name?"

"Leo."

Another stretch of silence. Then another voice came from the other end.

"This is Mizai Istom. I understand the situation. I have also contacted the highest-ranking official of the review committee."

Buzidora held his breath. The highest-ranking official—there was only one person who could be.

"Since Leo is the only candidate left, let him pass. He will become the hunter who passed this year's exam."

"Understood."

Buzidora replied in a low voice.

The call ended. Buzidora turned and walked back to Leo, his expression having returned to calm.

He looked at the young man, his gaze now carrying a little more scrutiny and appreciation.

Buzidora revered martial arts and respected the strong.

Although Leo's actions had completely disrupted his plans, such strength deserved recognition.

"Congratulations."

Buzidora announced solemnly.

"In the 285th Hunter Exam, you are the sole successful candidate. You pass!"

A smile appeared on Leo's face.

It was faint, but genuine.

He had considered this possibility before making his move—in the original story, Killua had once taken down every candidate by himself and advanced directly.

If Killua could do it, then naturally he could try this "speedrun" route as well.

The result had gone smoothly.

"So, what's next?"

Leo asked.

Buzidora pointed toward the other end of the rooftop—an airship was parked there.

"Come with me to Hunter Headquarters. You need to register your information, collect your license, and complete some necessary procedures."

The two walked toward the airship.

Before boarding, Buzidora glanced back in the direction of the rooftop elevator and shook his head.

"The medical team will be here soon to deal with those people downstairs... Honestly, they've caused me quite a bit of trouble."

Leo smiled but said nothing.

The airship's engines started, and it slowly rose into the air.

Through the window, Kaliru City below gradually shrank—the harbor, the streets, the buildings, until they finally became colorful specks like building blocks.

The airship cut through the clouds and sped at full speed toward Hunter Headquarters.