Hunter x Hunter: The Strongest Zoldyck

Chapter 125 Intelligence.

"I'm watching the people hiding behind that."

Roy's voice wasn't loud, and his tone was flat, but when Fika heard those words, it sent a chill down his spine.

He subconsciously followed Roy's gaze into the depths of the corridor... lights, white walls, red tables, an expressionless registrar, nothing at all.

If Kroy says there are people, then there must be people.

From the shadowy area at the end of the passage, shrouded in mental pressure, a very faint sound suddenly came.

It wasn't the sound of footsteps, but the sound of fabric rubbing against the air, like a withered leaf falling from a branch and being caught by the wind before hitting the ground.

A person emerged from the shadows.

First, the hem of her black coat hung down to near her knees, swaying gently with her steps.

Then came a dark gray turtleneck, the neckline covering the neck and revealing only a small section of pale skin.

Finally, there was a mask, pure white, smooth, and expressionless.

The mask has two thin, vertical holes, like the pupils of a feline.

Behind the hole were a pair of unfathomable black eyes, which were now quietly watching Roy.

It was hard to tell if he was male or female; he was thin and wiry, like a knife wrapped in black fabric.

His steps were so light that they were almost silent...

He stopped in front of the red table, not looking at the registrar or Fica, his gaze fixed on Roy.

"You were actually able to withstand my mental pressure and still see me... You seem to be more interesting than I thought."

The masked man looked at Roy's expressionless face and said something indifferently.

Fica swallowed hard and instinctively took a half-step closer to Roy.

He sensed that the aura emanating from the person in front of him was exactly the same as the suffocating pressure of thought in the passage.

No, that oppressive force emanated from him, silently engulfing the entire corridor like a tide. Now that the tide has receded, the lingering salty smell in the air proves that it had once been there.

Roy didn't speak.

He simply stared quietly at the mask, his silver-gray pupils reflecting the two thin holes in it, and the pair of dark eyes behind those holes.

His expression remained unchanged; he showed no tension, curiosity, or wariness.

Like a person standing on the riverbank, watching the water flow past, with no intention of wading or leaving.

The masked man tilted his head, his eyes behind the holes narrowing slightly, as if he were re-examining the silver-haired boy in front of him.

"If a newcomer reaches the 200th floor, according to the rules, you have the right to designate your opponent for the first battle."

He reached out, his long, slender fingers pulling a folded piece of parchment from inside his coat lining and unfolding it.

The paper was covered with names, some crossed out, some circled, and some marked with numbers.

Wins, losses, and knockouts.

He handed it to Roy: "This is a list of contestants from the 200th floor and above, with a detailed 'introduction' for each of them."

'

"With this, you can reliably secure your place on the 200th floor."

Roy did not accept the list.

He didn't even look down.

His gaze remained fixed on the mask, as if he were reading a face written on a blank canvas.

What do you want?

After a long silence, Roy asked a question in a low voice.

His eyes behind the mask lit up, and he folded the parchment back up and tucked it back into the lining, his movements unhurried and deliberate, as if he were performing a ritual he had rehearsed countless times.

"clever....

""

"You should know that there's no such thing as a free lunch, and I'm not some kind of philanthropist... What I want is for you to specify me."

Fica suddenly yelled, "You specifically?!"

"So you're also a player who's on the 200th floor."

"Isn't it obvious? Would anyone who wasn't on the 200th floor even be here?"

The masked man pulled a neatly folded contestant's pass from his coat pocket and waved it in front of the two men.

The light from the ID card reflected a small patch of white light, which shone on Fica's face, causing him to involuntarily squint.

The angle and lighting of the photo on the athlete's pass are exactly the same as his current one. He is wearing a mask, dressed in androgynous style, and the background is the gray wall of the locker room on the 200th floor of the Sky Arena.

The name field reads two characters: Kaku... Floor: 200.

"I've been waiting on the 200th floor, waiting for a newcomer who can withstand the baptism of newcomers..."

The masked man put the player's pass back into his pocket, shifting his gaze from Fica back to Roy's face.

There was no hostility, no provocation, not even expectation in that gaze, only certainty.

"You're not the first one to come in, but few of the previous ones could withstand my mental pressure and get to the registration desk."

His voice lowered, so low it sounded like he was talking to himself: "You should know that in the last three months, not a single newcomer on the two hundred floors of the Sky Arena has been able to get to the registration desk. You are the first one I should be wary of."

He paused for a moment, and the faint curve behind his mask rose slightly... it was a smile.

The smile had no warmth, yet it didn't chill anyone; it was more like the faint joy that welled up from the heart of a hunter who had been lying in wait for a long time and finally found a prey to hunt.

"So," Roy began, his voice still calm.

"You want me to name you."

"Not hope."

The masked man shook his head, and the arc flattened out again.

"It's a requirement."

Fica's eyeballs nearly popped out of their sockets.

"A request?! What gives you the right to demand that the boss name you? It's his prerogative to choose whomever he wants!"

'

"Fica".

Roy raised his hand, stopping the red-haired boy from saying anything more inflammatory.

He lowered his hand, looked at the white mask for a few seconds, then shook his head: "But I've already chosen my opponent for the first battle..."

'

As he spoke, Roy held up the registration form in his right hand. The form was made of thick, white paper, and two number plates were written in bright black ink at the top...

"Numbers 356 and 765..."

'

"Number 765..."

...?

Upon hearing Roy announce his opponent's number, the eyes behind the mask contracted sharply.

A character with the iconic clown makeup, a teardrop under his left eye and a star under his right eye.

A figure with golden, slanted eyes and an aura of danger suddenly appeared in his mind.

Number 756...

"9

After confirming that Roy's opponent was number 756, the masked man never mentioned asking Roy to name him again. He simply turned around silently and walked back to the corner, the oppressive aura he had just exuded completely gone.

"I never expected your opponent to be this...freak..."

'

The mask spoke the last two words with great emphasis, suggesting that Roy's opponent was in a very bad situation.

"Is it perverted?"

Watching the masked man slowly walk away, Roy blinked: "In some ways, he really is a pervert."