Leorio the Shadow Monarch - Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Confronting Convicts & First Real Test

The ‘Majority Rules’ path, after countless identical rooms and timed choices, finally spat them out somewhere new, somewhere drastically different. They emerged from a narrow corridor onto a wide, circular platform suspended by massive chains over a seemingly bottomless chasm. The air was cold, drafty, carrying the faint, metallic scent of old machinery and despair. Across the chasm, maybe fifty meters away, another platform mirrored theirs, connected by a single, narrow bridge. On that far platform lounged a group of individuals clad in rough, prison-issue clothing, their expressions ranging from bored indifference to predatory interest.

A synthesized voice, likely Lippo’s, echoed from hidden speakers. “Welcome, examinees, to the halfway point. To proceed across the bridge, you must first gain passage from our welcoming committee.” The voice dripped with false cheer. “These individuals are long-term inmates of this facility. They have been offered a simple deal: for every hour of your remaining time they can shave off in a challenge of their choosing, one year is deducted from their sentence. If they defeat you entirely, claiming all your remaining time for this phase, they earn a significant reduction. You, of course, are eliminated. Choose your opponent, or one will be chosen for you. Good luck!”

The implications settled heavily. They weren’t just fighting traps anymore; they were fighting desperate people with nothing to lose and years of freedom to gain. The tension on the platform ratcheted up instantly.

Before Leorio’s turn came, they witnessed the system in action. First, Gon, earnest and determined, faced off against Sedokan, a spindly man who challenged him to a high-stakes game involving long-burning candles, where the goal was to ensure your opponent’s candle went out first.

Leorio used `[Observe Lv1]`: `[Sedokan | Lv 4 | Condition: Cunning, Anxious | Threat: Low (Trickery)]`.

Gon, through sheer grit and a bit of clever thinking involving the wind, managed to win, though it was close.

Next, Kurapika stepped forward to face Majitani, a hulking brute covered in tattoos, including a prominent spider tattoo on his back, which immediately set Kurapika on edge. Majitani declared the challenge was simply enduring his presence without surrender.

Leorio Observed: `[Majitani | Lv 6 | Condition: Arrogant, Bluffing | Threat: Low (Intimidation)]`.

Kurapika, initially provoked by the spider tattoo (which Leorio knew was fake), maintained his cool composure, eventually calling Majitani’s bluff and revealing the tattoo wasn’t real, leading to the brute’s disqualification by his fellow prisoners for cowardice.

Leorio watched intently, cataloging the prisoners’ tactics. Trickery, intimidation, bluffs… they weren’t necessarily powerful fighters, but they were desperate and cunning.

Then, a light flashed above the number ‘403’. His turn. “Alright, Leorio, show ’em what you got!” Gon cheered encouragingly. Tonpa offered a less sincere, “Break a leg… but not literally, eh?” Leorio ignored them both, squaring his shoulders and walking towards the center of the platform where a simple metal table and two chairs now stood, seemingly having risen from the floor.

From the prisoner’s side, a woman walked forward onto the bridge and crossed to the table. She looked deceptively ordinary, perhaps in her late thirties or early forties, with neatly styled hair and an unnervingly calm smile. Her eyes, however, were sharp, intelligent, and held a cold, calculating quality that instantly set Leorio on edge. She sat opposite him.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Examinee 403,” she said, her voice smooth and cultured. “My designation is Leroute. I was… a therapist, in my former life.” She smiled again, a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Leorio immediately activated `Observe`.

`[-10 AP]`

—

Target: Leroute

Level: 2 (Level likely irrelevant to primary skill)

Condition: Calm, Analytical, High Deceptive Intent, Sociopathic Tendencies Detected

Threat Assessment: Moderate (Psychological Manipulation Specialist)

Thoughts: [Subject appears outwardly confident, possibly masking insecurity? Standard suit… aspiring professional? Financial motivation likely high. Potential triggers: failure, inadequacy, judgment from peers…]

—

Sociopathic tendencies detected? Oh, lovely, Leorio thought wryly. The system confirmed his unease. Her threat wasn’t physical; it was mental. And she was already trying to analyze him.

“My challenge is one of minds, Leorio-san,” Leroute continued, steepling her fingers. “We will engage in a series of simple wagers. Each of us begins with 23 hours, representing the remaining time we have some control over in this phase.”

“For each wager, we bet a number of hours. The winner takes those hours from the loser. The first to reduce their opponent’s pool to zero wins the match.” She explained the first game: simple Rock-Paper-Scissors, best two out of three rounds per wager.

“Shall we begin with a modest bet? Say, 5 hours?” Leroute proposed, her eyes fixed on his, searching for tells.

Leorio felt the probe. Was the bet designed to test his risk aversion? Or make him feel pressured? With his INT score now a formidable 39, his mind worked with a speed and clarity that was still novel. He didn’t just feel the pressure; he recognized the technique.

‘Opening gambit, establish baseline response. Standard procedure.’

“Fine by me,” Leorio said, keeping his voice level, meeting her gaze without flinching. He decided to play straightforwardly for the first round, let her think she was getting a read. Rock. Paper. Scissors. He threw rock. She threw scissors. He won the first throw. She threw paper. He threw scissors. He won the second. He won the first wager, her 23 hours dropping to 18, his remaining at 23.

Leroute’s calm smile didn’t waver, but Leorio’s enhanced Sense (SEN 38) caught the almost imperceptible tightening around her eyes. “My, my. Beginner’s luck, perhaps?” she commented lightly. “Or are you quite the gambler? One wouldn’t expect it from someone aspiring to be a doctor. Such a noble, selfless profession… it must weigh heavily on you, the thought of failing here, letting down those who depend on your future charity.”

There it is, Leorio thought. ‘Guilt induction combined with implied pressure. Trying to make me emotional, cloud my judgment.’ His INT 39 acted like a mental shield. He could logically dissect her words even as some tiny part of him felt a flicker of the intended emotion. He compartmentalized it.

“Being a doctor requires a clear head under pressure,” Leorio countered smoothly, surprising himself with the calm reply. “This is just another kind of pressure. Let’s play again. Same stakes? 5 hours?”

They played again. This time, Leorio deliberately threw slightly more predictably, letting her win the wager. Her time went back to 23, his dropped to 18. He watched her reaction – a subtle relaxation, a slight increase in confidence. ‘Good. Let her think she’s got my pattern.’

Leroute changed the game. “How about a coin toss? I have a coin here.” She produced one. “I’ll flip it, catch it, slap it on my wrist. You call heads or tails while it’s in the air. We bet… 8 hours this time?” Her smile was wider now. “Feeling confident?”

Leorio considered. 50/50 chance, seemingly. But she was controlling the flip, the catch. Could she manipulate it? Unlikely with a standard flip, but the betting was the real game. She wanted him to doubt, to hesitate. His INT processed rapidly: she likely expected him to make a conservative call or try to ‘read’ her, which she would then exploit. The best strategy? Pure logic and nullifying her psychological edge.

“Fine. 8 hours,” Leorio agreed. She flipped the coin high. “Tails,” he called immediately, firmly, before it even reached its apex, giving her no time to react to any perceived tell from him.

She caught it, slapped it down. Revealed it. Tails.

Leorio won again. His time: 26 (18+8). Her time: 15 (23-8). The calm facade slipped further. A flicker of genuine annoyance crossed her features before being smoothed away.

“You have… remarkable luck, Leorio-san,” she said, her voice a fraction tighter. “Or perhaps sharp intuition.” She leaned forward slightly. “Tell me, those friends of yours watching… the young ones. You seem protective. Does the thought of them being trapped here because of your failure worry you? Do you feel responsible for them?”

‘Leveraging perceived attachments. Attempting to create anxiety and distraction.’ Leorio analyzed. He could feel the attempt to shift his focus from the game to external pressures. His INT 39 held firm. “They’re capable kids,” he said dismissively. “They’ll handle themselves. Just like I’m handling this. What’s the next game?”

Leroute seemed momentarily thrown off by his blunt refusal to engage with the emotional bait. She proposed a number guessing game. She would think of a number between 1 and 10. He had one guess. If he got it right, he won the wager. If wrong, she won. “Let’s make it substantial,” she suggested, trying to regain control. “10 hours.”

Leorio looked at their time pools: He had 26, she had 15. If he lost, he’d drop to 16, tied. If he won, she’d drop to 5, putting him in a commanding position. A 1 in 10 chance. Terrible odds. But was it just chance? She was a psychologist. She’d be trying to choose a number she thought he would least expect, or perhaps one with some subconscious significance she’d tried to plant. His INT raced, analyzing her previous tactics, her slight tells, the numbers already used in betting amounts (5, 8, 100). She favored structure but tried to appear unpredictable. Common ‘random’ choices often avoided extremes and clustered mid-range. But she knew that too. She might choose an extreme, like 1 or 10. Or maybe 7, the stereotypical ‘lucky’ or ‘random’ number.

He watched her face. She looked intensely focused, projecting confidence. ‘She wants me to overthink it. She expects me to pick a ‘psychologically significant’ number like 7 or 3. Or maybe try to double-bluff and pick 1 or 10.’ His enhanced processing let him simulate these possibilities rapidly. The simplest, most direct counter to her overthinking? Ignore the psychology entirely. Pick something banal, something she likely dismissed.

“Four,” Leorio stated plainly.

Leroute’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly for a fraction of a second. Then her professional mask slammed back down, but it was too late. He’d seen it.

She forced a smile. “Incorrect. The number was…” she paused, but Leorio already knew he’d won just from that micro-reaction. “…Seven.”

“Liar,” Leorio said calmly, leaning back in his chair. “Your eyes flickered when I said four. You wouldn’t have reacted like that if it was wrong. You probably chose four precisely because it’s statistically unremarkable, thinking I’d over-analyze. But my guess disrupted your expectation.”

Leroute stared at him, her composure finally cracking. The smug superiority vanished, replaced by stunned disbelief.

Leorio pressed his advantage. “Let’s check, shall we? Prisoner code likely requires you to reveal truthfully if challenged directly, doesn’t it?”

Leroute hesitated, then gave a stiff nod, her expression sour. “The number… was four.”

A quiet ripple went through the watching prisoners. Leorio felt a surge of triumph. His INT wasn’t just defense; it was offense too. His time: 36 (26+10). Her time: 5 (15-10).

“Your turn to propose a game, I believe,” Leroute said, her voice strained.

“Alright,” Leorio said. “Simple odds or evens. I have a number of coins in my hand.” He discreetly scooped up a few worthless looking buttons or tokens from the table debris left from a previous challenge, hiding them in his fist. “You guess odd or even. We bet… 5 hours.”

She looked at his fist, trying to read him. He kept his expression perfectly neutral, projecting nothing. She needed this win desperately. She analyzed, probably thinking he’d go for an odd number as they felt ‘luckier’.

“Even,” she declared.

Leorio slowly opened his hand, revealing three tokens. “Odd. Looks like that’s game over.”

Leroute’s timer hit zero. She stared at the table, then up at Leorio, a look of utter defeat mixed with bewildered respect. “How…? My techniques… they always work…”

“Maybe you met someone who thinks a little differently,” Leorio said, standing up. He didn’t feel any particular malice towards her, just satisfaction at overcoming a unique challenge using a part of his system he hadn’t truly tested before. “Thanks for the game.”

He walked back towards his group, the invisible barrier separating the platforms likely lowering now. Gon rushed forward, “Leorio, you were amazing! You didn’t even look nervous!” Killua gave him a long, searching look, clearly impressed by how Leorio had dismantled the psychologist. Kurapika simply nodded, a small smile acknowledging the victory.

Leorio allowed himself a genuine grin this time. Strength was good, shadows were useful, but proving he could win with his mind? That felt damn good. The Trick Tower was proving to be more than just traps and physical tests; it was forcing him to use every asset his system provided.