"Didn't think I'd get to enjoy such a sight..." Biscuit shot Cyr a meaningful glance.
You brat… well done!
This had to be a special show just for her, right?
"You…" Hisoka narrowed his eyes, scanning the four newcomers.
Killua and Gon's progress was obvious. Goreinu seemed decently strong too, but he didn't strike Hisoka as the kind of mentor who could push those two to improve.
That meant…
Relying on an instinct only fellow tricksters possessed, Hisoka's gaze landed on Biscuit.
"Kyaaa~!" As if only just realizing, the blonde girl let out a squeal and hurriedly hid behind a tree, blushing.
Hmm. Most likely a fellow Transmuter—full of lies and a love for theatrics, just like him.
Hisoka smirked ever so slightly.
"Hisoka… so you're with us too, huh?" Gon seemed surprised but also pleased.
Even if Hisoka was… complicated, his strength was undeniable.
"Where's the rest?" Killua asked Cyr.
"One, two, three, four…" Cyr pointed at each person, from Hisoka to Maro and Sora, before finally pointing at himself.
"The other four are from Tzesguerra's side. Want me to call him?" He casually sat down in a chair, completely relaxed—like he was on a picnic.
"Yes, please!" Gon nodded firmly, looking serious.
"He also wanted to discuss some details. Book. Use [Contact]. Target: Tzesguerra." Cyr activated a card.
"Come over." He didn't even wait for a response before giving the order.
"On my way." Tzesguerra's reply was just as crisp, without a hint of dissatisfaction.
A true professional—maintaining an unshakable attitude no matter if he was dealing with annoying kids or an unreasonable, demanding boss.
By the time Tzesguerra arrived, Hisoka had finally put on some clothes.
Negotiating with Tzesguerra was left to Killua.
When it came to psychological warfare and making deals, Killua was a natural.
Cyr could handle negotiations too. His past education had trained him to politely discuss project timelines and financial transactions with adults, even bargaining with a smile.
But now… he simply didn't feel like doing it. His persistent headaches had long since drained his patience.
Killua and Gon proposed a simple deal—if they won, they would use [Copy] to duplicate the card and share it with everyone.
That was enough to convince Tzesguerra to join.
As for the remaining three filler members, he would handle finding them. There were plenty of weak players stuck in the game, unable to leave.
And just like that, the fifteen-man team was finally complete.
"Oh, right! The matches are all sports-based." Gon suddenly recalled an important detail.
"Things like juggling, bowling, basketball, sumo wrestling, and boxing…" He listed off the previous challenges.
Great.
Aside from bowling, Cyr sucked at all of them.
If only they had soccer, golf, badminton, skiing, or horseback riding—those were his sports.
Soccer, in particular—Cyr was actually really good at it.
Before coming to this world, he had even led his school's soccer team to a championship.
The media had once dubbed him the rising star of the national team's future.
Not that he had any intention of stuffing himself with sea cucumbers and getting fat.
"I thought we could just brute-force our way through… What a pain." Cyr leaned back in his chair, sighing in frustration.
A simple game of defeat whoever appears—a straightforward, violent approach.
Though… that did sound kind of boring too.
If it were a fight, Tzesguerra probably wouldn't stand a chance. How long had it been since that guy had a real life-or-death battle? Sports challenges, on the other hand, should be fine.
Everyone picked the event they were best at and started last-minute training.
"So, what are you going to pick?" Killua asked Cyr.
The entire time they were choosing events, he hadn't said a word. While they trained, he just lay there, eating, drinking, and even yawning.
The sight alone was enough to ignite everyone's competitive spirit.
"Anything's fine. Just hand me whatever you guys can't handle." Cyr shrugged.
Without using abilities, he sucked at all of them.
With abilities? It wouldn't matter which event he chose—he wouldn't lose. So, really, there was nothing to choose.
If he could just clear the whole thing by himself, he wouldn't mind going solo.
But that idea was quickly shot down when they met Razor.
"One-on-one matches. A single player winning multiple rounds in a row isn't allowed," Razor, their challenge opponent, explained.
"So they're all real people, not NPCs. Now this is getting interesting." Cyr grinned from the sidelines.
Fighting NPCs was the most boring thing ever. Player-versus-player battles? Now that was fun.
"Real people…?" Gon seemed genuinely shocked.
Wasn't this… just a game?
"Real, yes. And this isn't just a game—it's reality. The fact that dead players' bodies return to the real world should've clued you in," Cyr casually explained.
Then, with an oddly wistful expression, he glanced at Killua, Gon, and Biscuit.
"I thought you guys already knew."
Killua, Gon & Biscuit: …We totally didn't.
Boxing, bowling, and basketball were won by the three players Tzesguerra had brought along.
To obtain the Coastline of One Tsubo card, they needed to win a total of eight matches out of fifteen.
Meanwhile, the Bomber had already collected 97 specified cards. If they reached 99, they'd receive a clue to the final one.
"Razor and the Fourteen Devils… These guys don't look like devils to me." Cyr eyed Razor's teammates, deep in thought.
Tall, short, fat, thin—they all had generic faces and reeked of criminal energy.
They were definitely fugitives, but they weren't strong.
Calling them "devils" and grouping them with Razor? That was definitely an overstatement.
Then, as if to prove his point, Cyr watched as one of the fat guys tried to stir up a rebellion—whispering to the others about stabbing Razor in the back and making a run for it.
He didn't get very far.
With a single Nen projectile to the head, Razor shut him up for good.
Oh.
"I'll take the dodgeball match." Razor stepped forward.
Around him, seven figures in numbered jerseys appeared.
So the 'Fourteen Devils' are actually just his Nen ability, huh…
"Both sides will send out eight players. Whoever wins this match will count as winning all eight rounds." Razor announced with a casual smile.
In other words, if Razor won, their team lost—completely.
The three filler players—who had been dead weight from the start—were already terrified from watching Razor execute his own teammate.
Now, they were whispering amongst themselves about running away.
Like those teammates in Honor of Kings who start spamming the surrender button when the match isn't even lost yet.
Useless.
Just standing there was annoying enough.
They'd already fulfilled their purpose by triggering the 15-player requirement.
They weren't needed anymore.
Cyr stretched out a hand toward the exit, his smile dripping with amusement as he spoke to the three of them.
"Three seconds. Get out. If you're too slow… I'll kill you."
His grin was radiant.
But his words dripped with blood.
°°°
If you want to read ahead and access 20 advanced chapters, check the patreon
Link: Patreon/Moziel