Leorio the Shadow Monarch - Chapter 16

Chapter 16: Bad Luck

Leorio was starting to feel cautiously optimistic, perhaps even a little smug. He had his six points. Ponzu’s badge (#246) felt secure tucked away with his own (#403). His training was progressing; Ten, Zetsu, and Ren felt less like abstract concepts and more like tangible tools, albeit basic ones, humming faintly under his control at Level 2.

His shadow pig perimeter had kept his base secure for the past couple of days, alerting him only to clueless wildlife and, once, a very lost-looking applicant whom Leorio easily avoided. His plan was simple: find an even more secluded spot, lay low for the remaining four days, maybe grind some more `Path to Strength` cycles, and coast to the finish line. Zevil Island, despite its reputation, felt surprisingly manageable.

That was, of course, precisely when his carefully managed luck decided to abandon him in spectacular fashion.

He was scouting for that new hiding spot, moving through a particularly dense section of jungle thick with ferns taller than he was. He used `Observe Lv1` periodically, checked for tracks, listened intently with his enhanced senses. Everything seemed clear. He pushed aside a large, dripping frond and stepped into a small, sun-dappled clearing… and froze mid-step.

Hisoka Morrow stood not twenty feet away, examining a strangely colored butterfly perched on his finger. But this wasn’t the calculating, coolly amused Hisoka from the swamp or the tower. There was a manic energy crackling around him, almost visible. His usual faint smile was stretched into a wide, unnerving grin that promised violence, and his golden eyes held a feverish, predatory gleam. Leorio’s system screamed danger louder than ever before. `Observe` didn’t just flash warnings; it practically short-circuited:

`[Target: Hisoka Morrow | Level: ??? | Condition: Acute Battle Frenzy! Unpredictable! | Threat Assessment: !!! FATAL ERROR! CATASTROPHIC THREAT DETECTED! EVADE! EVADE! EVADE!!!]`

Before Leorio could even process the overwhelming warnings, the butterfly fluttered away, and Hisoka’s burning gaze snapped onto him.

“Oooooh? ♦” Hisoka purred, the sound far more menacing than playful now. “Look what the jungle dragged in… Mr. Hard-Working Suit. Feeling strong today? Feeling… durable?” He took a step closer, his body language radiating aggressive intent. “I find myself terribly bored. Indulge me. Let’s have a little fun, shall we? ♣” His tone made it chillingly clear this wasn’t a request.

Leorio’s blood ran cold. There was no reasoning with Hisoka in this state. This wasn’t about badges or strategy; this was about Hisoka’s insatiable lust for a challenging, potentially lethal, fight. And Leorio, unfortunately, was the only available dance partner. ‘Bad luck doesn’t even begin to cover this,’ he thought frantically. ‘This is a cosmic joke with a deadly punchline.’

Survival instinct slammed into high gear. Negotiation was impossible. Escape against Hisoka’s speed seemed unlikely. That left only one option: desperate, overwhelming force and hoping for a miracle.

“System!” he mentally roared, pouring AP into the command. `[Arise!]`

In an instant, the clearing erupted in swirling black smoke. 18 spectral forms materialized around Leorio with phantom snorts and the imagined scent of ethereal bacon – his entire legion of `[Shadow Pig Lv8]` soldiers. A wall of shadowy pork tanks, ready for orders. Simultaneously, he flared his own aura, activating `[Ten Lv2]` for defense, `[Ren Lv2]` to project power, and `[Sprint Lv2]` for speed. `[-AP Drain Significant]`

“ATTACK!” he screamed mentally, projecting pure, desperate aggression towards Hisoka. “Pin him down! Overwhelm him! Buy me time!”

18 Shadow Pigs charged, a thundering wave of darkness converging on the magician. Hisoka simply laughed, a high-pitched, genuinely delighted sound that sent shivers down Leorio’s spine.

Then, the massacre began.

Hisoka didn’t retreat; he dove into the charging spectral horde. He moved like smoke, like water, an impossible blur of motion. A Shadow Pig lunged, tusks aimed to gore – Hisoka sidestepped with contemptuous ease, his hand, likely coated in Shu-enhanced Nen, lashing out like a whip, cleaving the shadow’s head clean off. It dissipated instantly. `[Shadow Pig Destroyed!]` flashed in Leorio’s vision.

Another pig charged from the flank – Hisoka spun, a playing card appearing in his hand as if by magic. With a flick of his wrist, the card sliced through the air, faster than Leorio could track, embedding itself deep within the shadow’s form. The shadow destabilized and vanished. `[Shadow Pig Destroyed!]`

He flowed between them, a whirlwind of deadly grace. Punches shattered spectral ribs, kicks dispersed smoky limbs. He tore through Leorio’s painstakingly collected army as if they were made of tissue paper. Their VIT 10 durability meant nothing against his focused power. They weren’t fighters; they weren’t even speed bumps. They were just… entertainment. Fleeting distractions. `[Shadow Pig Destroyed!] [Shadow Pig Destroyed!] [Shadow Pig Destroyed!]` The notifications piled up, a grim testament to the futility of Leorio’s desperate opening gambit.

Seeing his army disintegrating, Leorio knew he had to act. He roared, activating `[Spirit Lv2]` fully, and charged, wielding a thick, fallen tree branch like a desperate club, channeling his full STR 70 into the blow. He swung for Hisoka’s head as the magician casually ripped another shadow pig in half.

Hisoka sidestepped the blow effortlessly, the branch whistling through empty air. Before Leorio could even recover his balance, a sharp, stabbing pain exploded in his side. Hisoka’s elbow had slammed into his ribs with sickening force. Leorio heard the crack, felt the searing agony. `[HP: 1950/2350]`. His `[Will To Recover]` passive kicked in, a faint warmth trying to knit the bone, but the damage was too severe, too sudden.

He gasped, stumbling back, trying to bring the branch around again. Hisoka was already moving, grabbing Leorio’s outstretched arm, twisting it with brutal force. A sickening pop echoed in the clearing as his shoulder dislocated. Pain, white-hot and blinding, overwhelmed him.

`[HP: 1600/2350]`.

He cried out, dropping the branch.

This wasn’t a fight; it was a dissection. His STR 70 felt like nothing. His AGI 43 was laughably slow. His Ten Lv2 offered no discernible protection against these Nen-enhanced physical blows. His combat instincts, honed only by a few minor skirmishes and his system training, were pitiful against Hisoka’s predatory experience.

He desperately tried landing punches, kicks, anything. Most missed wildly. One desperate jab connected with Hisoka’s shoulder, likely feeling like a fly bumping into a wall to the magician. Hisoka’s response was a swift kick to Leorio’s sternum that sent him flying backwards, slamming into a tree. The world swam.

`[HP: 1100/2350]`.

Through blurred vision, Leorio saw maybe three or four tattered Shadow Pigs remaining, still feebly trying to engage Hisoka, who dispatched them with almost bored indifference now. And Leorio noticed, with a fresh wave of horror, that Hisoka still hadn’t used his signature ability. No pink, sticky Bungee Gum. No playful traps. This entire beatdown, this utter dismantling of Leorio and his army, was being done with basic Nen application and sheer physical superiority. He wasn’t even taking this warm-up seriously.

Leorio struggled to his feet, leaning against the tree, blood dripping from his mouth, arm hanging uselessly, ribs screaming. His regeneration was working, he could feel it trying desperately to mend the damage, but it was like trying to patch a sinking ship with chewing gum. His HP continued to drop from internal bleeding and shock. `[HP: 800/2350]`.

Hisoka finished off the last Shadow Pig with a final, contemptuous flick of a card. He turned towards Leorio, slowly walking closer, that terrifyingly wide grin back in place. “My, my. You’re tougher than you look, Mr. Suit ♥,” he purred, his battle frenzy perhaps cooling slightly into sadistic amusement. “That regeneration… quite interesting. But ultimately futile.” He stopped a few feet away. “Playtime is over now.”

He raised his hand, fingers coalescing into a sharp blade of Nen, clearly aiming for a finishing blow – the heart, the head, it didn’t matter. Death was coming, swift and inevitable.

Panic, cold and absolute, finally cut through the pain. There was only one chance left. One impossible, system-granted escape hatch. As Hisoka lunged forward, Leorio poured a huge chunk of his rapidly dwindling AP reserves (`[-7000 AP!]`) into a single, desperate command, focusing with laser intensity on the faint connection to ‘Shadow Pig’, his shadow sentry miles away at his hidden base.

`[Shadow Exchange Lv1]!`

In the fraction of a second before Hisoka’s lethal hand struck, reality seemed to warp around Leorio. A nauseating lurch, a brief flash of non-space, and then impact.

Hisoka’s Nen-charged fingers struck empty air, sinking deep into the tree bark where Leorio had been standing a nanosecond before. He froze mid-lunge, head cocked, the manic energy in his eyes replaced by sudden, sharp confusion. He retracted his hand, looking at the empty space, then slowly scanning the clearing. Gone. Utterly vanished. Not fast movement, not illusion. Just… gone. A flicker of genuine surprise, quickly morphing into intrigued amusement, crossed his features.

“…Now that,” Hisoka murmured to the empty clearing, a slow smile returning, less frenzied now, more calculating, “was unexpected ♠.” He lingered a moment longer, then shrugged, perhaps disappointed the toy broke so strangely, and melted back into the jungle.

Miles away, Leorio reappeared several feet above the ground where Shadow Pig had been patrolling and crashed violently onto the forest floor in his hidden clearing. Agony ripped through him as broken bones jarred, wounds tore open. System warnings blared in his vision. `[HP: 50/2350] [CRITICAL INJURY DETECTED!] [BLEEDING EFFECT ACTIVE!]`. Darkness clawed at the edges of his sight. He was dying.

With his last reserves of consciousness, fueled by pure terror, he choked out the command, his voice a ragged whisper. “S-System… Activate… Recovery!”

The small green cross icon in his HUD pulsed brightly, then vanished. Instantly, a wave of warmth, potent and golden, surged through his broken body. It felt like being submerged in liquid life. Bones snapped back into alignment with audible clicks. Torn muscles and flesh knitted together at a speed that defied biology. The searing pain evaporated, replaced by a feeling of complete wholeness, of energy flooding back into him.

`[Status Recovery Activated!]`

`[HP: 2350/2350]`

`[AP: 48000/48000]`

`[All Negative Status Effects Cleared.]`

`[Fatigue: 0%]`

He lay there on the damp earth, gasping deep, shuddering breaths, not from pain, but from the sheer, overwhelming relief and the lingering phantom agony of the fight. He was alive. He was whole. He slowly sat up, touching his ribs, his shoulder – completely healed, not even a scar remained.

But the confidence he’d felt earlier? Shattered. Utterly demolished. He hadn’t survived because he was strong or skilled. He’d survived because of two system abilities that felt like cheating death: `Shadow Exchange` and the stored `Status Recovery`. Against Hisoka, his Level 43 stats, his STR 70, his Shadow Pigs, his basic Nen techniques… they were nothing. Less than nothing. He was an infant swatting at a master swordsman.

The memory of Hisoka tearing through his shadows, the casual brutality, the fact he hadn’t even used Bungee Gum… it left a residue of cold, hard fear. He had used his emergency escape, his one free miracle. There wouldn’t be another stored Recovery waiting.

He looked around his ‘safe’ clearing, which now felt terrifyingly vulnerable. Zevil Island wasn’t a game board he could strategize his way through with superior stats. It was a predator’s hunting ground, and he was still very much potential prey to the real monsters. He needed to learn. He needed to train Nen properly. He needed to understand combat flow, strategy, Hatsu. He needed… more. So much more.

He got shakily to his feet, the earlier optimism replaced by a grim, hardened resolve forged in the crucible of near-death terror. Six points or not, this exam wasn’t over. And survival just got a whole lot more complicated.