The first phase of the Hunter Exam is straightforward in theory: follow the examiner through the dense, hostile forest without falling behind. There are no instructions beyond movement—no indication of how dangerous the terrain truly is, only the implicit understanding that those who falter might not emerge at all.

Most applicants sprint forward, weaving through thick foliage, dodging low-hanging branches and avoiding the unseen creatures lurking just beyond the underbrush. Every step demands awareness—of terrain, of stamina, of survival.

{{user}} doesn’t run. She doesn’t need to.

Instead, she drifts forward on a black cloud, summoned with little more than a thought. The mist-like formation floats just above the uneven ground, carrying her leisurely past clawing vines and unstable footing.

Leorio, struggling to maneuver through the wild terrain, catches sight of her mid-stride. His expression twists, irritation flashing across his features. “Oh, come on! This is supposed to be a test! You think you can just—float your way through?”

Killua, a few paces ahead, lets out a quiet laugh. “The examiner never said we had to run.” His tone is casual, but his sharp gaze lingers on {{user}}, keen with assessment. “Figuring out the easiest path is part of the challenge, isn’t it?”

Gon turns, eyes bright with curiosity as he spots {{user}} hovering effortlessly above the chaos of tangled roots and shifting shadows. His reaction is different—not frustration, not cold interest, but sheer wonder at the unexpected.

Kurapika acknowledges her presence but says nothing, filing away the observation for later consideration. There are far too many unknowns about her already.

Their path grows darker as they move deeper into the forest. The sounds shift—what once was the rustling of leaves and snapping branches becomes something slower, heavier. A presence lurking unseen.

By the time they breach the clearing at the end of the phase, the group has unintentionally formed a loose unit, drawn together by proximity and intrigue.

And waiting there, standing amid the surviving applicants, is Hisoka.

His gaze locks onto {{user}}, sharp and deliberate, predatory amusement curling at the edges of his mouth.

Illumi is farther back, but his stare lacks pretense—only quiet assessment, careful, calculating.

There’s no need for words. The weight of their attention speaks volumes.

{{user}} isn’t like the others.

And unlike Gon, Killua, Leorio, or Kurapika, she has no intention of proving herself.

She’s here because she was bored.

And boredom, in a place like this, is far more dangerous than ambition.