After trekking nearly a hundred kilometers on foot, the candidates of the 287th Hunter Exam had finally reached the second test. The objective was as straightforward as the first: climb a mountain in under an hour, then face the next phase at the summit. But, like the previous test, its simplicity brought more pain than promise.
The mountain in question was Mafutatsu, one of the world's tallest peaks, nestled in the Biska Nature Reserve. Towering 1.3 kilometers, it pierced the clouds—a true behemoth. Estimates suggested an experienced climber, with favorable weather, proper gear, and expertise, would need about two hours to ascend 1,000 meters of elevation. By that logic, scaling Mafutatsu would take an expert at least two hours.
An hour's time limit was thus almost absurd. Even a fool could see the test defied reason, especially given the candidates' exhaustion from running dozens of kilometers and the mountain's steep incline. With these facts in mind, of the 287 candidates who reached the second test, only 243 dared to tackle Mafutatsu's climb. The dropouts deemed it too reckless to gamble their lives. Instead of chasing the impossible, they opted to try again next year, hoping for better odds.
Our quartet, naturally, was among the mad few who took on the ascent.
Gon, fearless and agile, scaled the massive mountain with disarming ease, using his fishing rod and solid footholds, his youth only amplifying the feat. Killua, hands in pockets for most of the climb, matched Gon's nonchalance, leaping from rocky outcrops like a mountain goat, maintaining balance with uncanny agility.
Leorio, fueled by adrenaline-fueled madness, charged up the slope, pushing his body beyond its limits. To Kurapika, he was the group's true standout. Unlike Gon and Killua, blessed with otherworldly genes and talent, Leorio was an ordinary city guy who, through sheer grit and willpower, worked miracles. He'd carved a place among prodigies through hard-won effort alone.
As for Kurapika, there wasn't much to say. After ensuring his companions were managing the climb—some better than others—he ascended with relative ease. He wasn't among the first to summit, but he was far from lagging.
Gon and Killua, still racing each other, took 25 minutes to reach the top, tying for first in a jaw-dropping feat. Waiting there was a tall woman with vibrant pink hair tied back in five high knots, dressed in a provocative outfit: a bikini top under a mesh shirt and denim micro-shorts.
As candidates trickled in, she stood impassive. Too weary to pry, they simply waited for the first phase of the second test to end. They'd already guessed her role in what was to come.
At around 48 minutes, Kurapika reached the summit. By the 57th minute, a gasping Leorio, on the brink of collapse, made it just under the wire. Scaling such a mountain in the allotted time seemed impossible, yet a surprising number proved otherwise. There were dropouts and accidents, but after an hour, 191 candidates had passed.
At the hour mark, the bell in the woman's hand rang, drawing all eyes. With a flashy somersault, she leaped over the crowd, landing behind them. Positioning herself at the cliff's edge, where she could see stragglers still climbing, she cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, "The test is over! No point climbing anymore!"
Her booming voice hit the struggling candidates like a thunderbolt, shattering their last reserves of will. Some stared in dismay, others cursed, and a few, unable to bear the failure, lost their grip and fell.
Message delivered, the woman muttered disdainfully, "What a bunch of weaklings…" before turning to the successful candidates with a cheery demeanor that contrasted her harshness toward the failures. "Congrats on making it this far! I didn't expect so many. You've done yourselves proud."
She paused, then leaped back over the candidates to her original spot. "I'm Menchi, the second examiner for this test's next phase."
As the candidates had suspected, Menchi was the examiner Buhara had mentioned earlier. "This mountain is Mafutatsu, but many call it the 'Split Mountain' for a simple reason. Follow me."
The group trailed Menchi, relieved she wasn't running—another sprint would've flattened most of them. She seemed to be leading them to the summit's far end, but their march halted at a vast chasm splitting the peak in two, blocking the other side.
Facing the candidates, Menchi said, "As you can see, a huge ravine divides this mountain into two equal halves, hence the nickname. Now, let's talk about the second phase of this test. Step closer."
She beckoned them to the ravine's edge. What greeted them was a dizzying abyss of unimaginable depth. But that wasn't what caught their attention. Meters below, webs stretched across the ravine's walls, each cradling oversized eggs. The sight left no one unmoved.
"Meet the tarantula hawk nest," Menchi said. "Rare birds lay their young in places like this. Nice and safe from predators, right?"
She inched closer to the edge, her toes slightly overhanging. To the candidates' shock, she let herself fall. Rushing to check on their examiner, they were stunned. Menchi had caught a web after her drop, grabbed an egg, and, with extraordinary agility, scaled the opposite summit, egg in hand.
Using the same megaphone-like technique, she called across the ravine, "This phase is simple. Do what I did and join me here. A dirigible will arrive in four hours—that's your time limit."
Confusion rippled through the candidates. These were no ordinary people; they'd proven superhuman prowess. Yet even for them, Menchi's "simple" task was daunting. Jumping and grabbing an egg from a web was feasible—child's play for such elites. The real challenge was climbing back up to the other side.
As most candidates hesitated, a group stepped forward, including our quartet. "Whoa, did you see that?!" Gon exclaimed, awestruck.
"I've never seen anything like it. Insane," Killua added.
"This phase is straight-up suicide," Leorio scoffed, though his eyes gleamed with excitement.
'No wind currents, it seems,' Kurapika thought. Though this test resembled one from the original story, the lack of updrafts made it tougher. Sighing, he turned to his companions. "Ready?"
They nodded, and the quartet leaped into the void together. Their boldness triggered a chain reaction, with others following, though some held back.
As expected, jumping, catching a web, and grabbing an egg were easy. The true test was the ascent. The next minutes were a grueling struggle as candidates, using their unique methods, fought to reach the surface. Cries of those slipping or losing their grip echoed frequently. Though the distance was shorter than the mountain climb, it took half the time to reach the other side.
Surprisingly, Gon and Killua weren't first this time, despite summiting in a blistering five minutes. For this phase, Kurapika chose to reveal a sliver of his true ability, reaching the top in just one minute.
Menchi, though she hid it, was inwardly shocked. It had taken her three minutes, and while she hadn't gone all out, she hadn't expected a candidate to outdo her. 'Interesting. This year's group has real talent.'
Her assessment was spot-on. Though she'd given four hours, 30 minutes sufficed for the candidates to complete the task—an astonishing feat. Despite some fatalities, the majority succeeded.
"I made it. Guess death's not ready for me yet," Leorio joked as he reached the summit, joining his companions.
"You're a walking miracle. I'd have bet against you," Killua quipped.
"Who do you take me for, you little punk?!" Leorio shot back. "Anyway, I'm guessing you and Gon got here first, right?"
He'd never admit it, but Leorio respected the kids' extraordinary talents. He couldn't fathom how 12-year-olds breezed through such tests, but reality forced him to accept it.
"Nope, Kurapika beat us this time," Gon said.
Leorio was briefly surprised but quickly settled. He recalled their ordeal in Numelle Swamp. Though the details were fuzzy, Kurapika had carried him to the second test, and Leorio sensed his friend was hiding something, even if he couldn't pin it down.
"I was racing Gon, or I'd have done better," Killua bragged. Truthfully, he'd gone all out, and Gon, to his surprise, kept pace despite Killua's rigorous training. Kurapika's win was undeniable, but Killua wasn't too bothered. It was just a silly test. 'In a deathmatch, I'd win hands down.'
Seeing all candidates had summited, Menchi approached. "You've crossed the ravine. Show me your eggs."
At her command, each candidate raised their oversized egg. Satisfied, Menchi continued, "Good. You've passed the second test. A dirigible will arrive in a few hours to take you to the next exam site. Until then, rest."
"What do we do with these eggs?" a candidate asked, echoing a common question. The leap and crossing made sense, but the egg's purpose was unclear.
Menchi smiled. "Whatever you want—they're useless for the next phase. But I suggest eating them. The dirigible has kitchens for cooking. The taste might surprise you."
The candidates awaited the dirigible. To pass the time, some grouped to chat, while others kept to themselves. Killua asked Kurapika if he had more sodas, but Kurapika regretfully said no. Bored by the hours-long wait, Gon and Killua were miserable, while Leorio, having pushed his body too far, relished the chance to relax.
To entertain the kids, Kurapika suggested rock-paper-scissors, which they eagerly agreed to.
Time passed.
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