Visca Swamp

At the foot of Cedar Mountain, a narrow entrance lay hidden between rock walls. Shrubs grew thickly all around it; without the Fox Bear leading the way, no one would have found this place.

The Fox Bear stopped and turned around. His fox-like face looked somewhat blurred beneath the shadows of the trees.

"The entrance to the Hunter Exam venue is ahead. My task ends here."

His gaze swept over Gon, Kurapika, and Leorio before lingering on Saitama for a moment.

Then he turned and vanished into the tree shadows.

Leorio stared at the narrow entrance and swallowed. "This place... feels so creepy."

Gon had already crawled inside. Kurapika followed close behind. Leorio took a deep breath and followed them. Saitama brought up the rear, yawning.

Inside was a long underground tunnel. Oil lamps burned along both sides, casting dim light over the rough stone walls. The air smelled of damp earth, and their footsteps echoed through the tunnel.

After walking for about twenty minutes, a light appeared at the end of the tunnel. The four of them quickened their pace and emerged.

Before them lay an enormous underground space. The ceiling was so high that its top could not be seen. Countless tunnel exits were embedded in the surrounding walls, packed densely together like a honeycomb. Several hundred examinees had already gathered on the ground—of all shapes, dressed in all kinds of outfits, carrying all kinds of weapons.

Gon's eyes lit up. "There are so many people!"

Leorio adjusted his sunglasses. "They probably all came from different routes."

Saitama stood at the edge of the crowd and looked down at his T-shirt. He had brushed against the tunnel wall earlier, leaving a little dust on his sleeve. He patted it with his hand.

Then he raised his head and looked at the hundreds of strange-looking people.

Ever since being transported here, he had just been walking. Following Gon, following the ship, following the fox.

What was he supposed to do again?

Clear the plot.

And then?

No idea.

He looked ahead. Gon was excitedly looking around, his spiky hair bobbing through the crowd.

Whatever. He'd just follow him. It wasn't like he knew where to go anyway.

Saitama stopped patting at his sleeve. The dusty spot was still there.

The sound of wooden clogs rang out. Clack, clack, clack. The rhythm was steady, like the ticking of a second hand.

A tall, thin man stepped out from the crowd. He wore a black suit. He had no lips, only a mouthful of exposed teeth, and his face was completely expressionless. He held a stopwatch in one hand.

"I am Satotz, the examiner for the first test."

He pressed the stopwatch.

"From now on, stay close behind me. Anyone who falls behind will be eliminated."

With that, he turned and headed toward a broad passageway. He was not running, but walking. Yet his pace was extremely fast.

The examinees looked at one another, then followed.

Satotz walked at the front, his pace unchanging. The examinees stretched out behind him in a loose, long line. Gon followed closely behind Satotz, with Kurapika beside him. Leorio panted. "We're not even running... why is this so exhausting...?"

Saitama walked in the middle of the group. His pace was neither fast nor slow, about the same as a stroll.

Not long after, a dull thud came from the back of the group.

Then came a scream.

Saitama did not turn around. The examinees around him all looked back, then paled and quickened their steps.

Gon looked back once, and his expression changed.

Leorio asked, "What happened?"

"Someone... had his hands broken."

At the back of the group, an examinee lay collapsed on the ground, both hands twisted out of shape from the wrists down. Hisoka walked past him, holding a playing card between his fingers and smiling. The examinee had bumped into him without apologizing.

Leorio's eyes widened. "That guy—"

Kurapika grabbed his sleeve. "Don't get involved. Keep moving."

The sound of a skateboard rolling over the ground came from behind them. A silver-haired boy rode through the crowd on a skateboard, overtaking everyone before stopping beside Gon. He tucked the skateboard under his arm, a cocky grin on his lips.

"Hey, spiky hair."

Gon looked around, then pointed at himself. "Are you talking to me?"

"Obviously. Is there another spiky-haired kid here?"

Gon touched his hair and grinned. "My name is Gon, not Spiky Hair."

"Killua." The silver-haired boy glanced at Hisoka behind them and clicked his tongue. "That clown's here again."

Gon asked, "You know him?"

"I saw him at last year's exam. That guy's a maniac. He kills people whenever he sees them. Stay away from him."

Leorio swallowed.

Tonpa huddled within the crowd, sweat beading on his forehead.

The passage began to slope upward. After about half an hour of walking, the air turned damp, carrying the scent of dirt and decaying leaves. At the end of the passage stood a rusty iron door. Satotz pushed it open, and thick fog rushed toward them.

The fog was as dense as milk; nothing could be seen more than three meters away. The ground was soft, rotten mud that squelched beneath their feet. Puddles and dead trees were everywhere, with grayish-white moss hanging from the branches.

Satotz did not slow down and walked straight into the thick fog.

"This is Visca Swamp, also known as the 'Swindler's Nest.' Stay close behind me. Do not trust any voice you hear."

The examinees poured into the fog. Satotz's wooden clogs sounded steadily ahead, and the examinees relied on that sound to determine their direction. Shadows began to shift within the fog—examinees arriving from other routes, merging onto the same path.

The fog grew thicker and thicker. Visibility dropped to less than three meters.

A chubby middle-aged man squeezed to the front with a broad smile, pulling several cans of juice from his bag.

"Newcomers, right? Newcomers? I'm Tonpa, a veteran who's taken the exam thirty-five times. If there's anything you don't understand, just ask me."

As he spoke, he had already handed a can of juice to Gon.

Killua sneered. "Don't trust him. This guy pretends to be a newcomer every year and specializes in screwing over first-time examinees."

Tonpa's smile stiffened. From the corner of his eye, he glanced behind him—Saitama was walking lazily at the very back of the group, yawning.

That bald guy. He had seen him at Dolle Harbor. A big man had punched him in the face, and the big man's hand had shattered.

Tonpa's smile instantly froze. He quickly took back the juice, pretended to wipe away sweat, and secretly poured the entire can into the mud by his feet.

Then he awkwardly retreated to the side.

A cry for help came from the distance. It was a woman's voice, shrill enough to make their scalps tingle.

"Help—save me—is anyone there—I fell into the swamp—"