The road to Mount Split-In-Half ran like a bruise across the landscape: hard-packed dirt, scrubby tufts of grass, and a sky that had the sour glare of a place that accepted danger as weather. The examinees moved in ragged bands between the examiners' scouts and each other: some joking to keep their nerves in check, others silent and wound tight as springs.
Ethan walked near Gon's little cluster—anonymity was his armor—and kept the Panel folded down into Clear Mode beneath his sleeve. The world around him thrummed with the quiet, living pressure of Nen; his Nen Sense tingled like static under skin. The Panel had already fed him the mission briefing, but it unfolded again in a neat, private window that hovered only for him.
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PANEL MISSION — PHASE TWO (CONTINUED)
Mission: Retrieve one Spider-Eagle Egg from Mount Split-In-Half.
Location: Cliffs above the Great Ravine.
Primary Constraints: Do not kill examiners / do not interfere with official outcomes.
Known Hazards: Spider-Eagles (territorial, strong talons), steep rock faces, wind shear.
Optional Extracts:
• Eagle Feather Resonance — minor perception boost (50 PP)
• Egg Heat Core — temporary stamina regen (30 PP)
• Cliffmaster Trait — improved grip/coordination (40 PP)
Host Recommendations: Stay with Gon's group; assist discretely. Avoid attracting Hisoka's notice. Time Limit: Return within three hours to retain full credit.
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Ethan let the mission sink into him. He pocketed the UI, keeping the Panel's public face as a plain watch. The job was straightforward and terrifying: climb, get the egg, come down. The canonical stakes were not only Netero's test; they were the examiners' test of nerve and composure under ridiculous conditions.
The climb began with a path that angled sharply up, first a scramble through loose gravel and then a section of semi-sheer rock where rope lines had been slung between fixed posts. Ethan watched Gon move—unpracticed in the world's details but utterly committed. The boy's grin was all of him: energy and the belief that things could be done if you simply did them.
Killua was effortless and fast, like a shadow that had practiced disappearing. Kurapika climbed with discipline, hand over hand, eyes tracking every hold. Leorio cursed at gravity and still made it past. Ethan felt small in the way people do before a great act: he had power, yes, but this test was about balance and risk and the precise application of nerve.
As they climbed, a wind came through the ravine that felt like a door being opened on a room full of animals; it buffeted their faces and made small rocks skip like thrown coins. From above came the high, keening calls of the Spider-Eagles—part bird, part predator, their voices threaded with annoyance at small trespassers.
Higher, the cliff face opened into a ledge that ringed the mountain like an amphitheater. Dozens of nests dotted the rim—woven grasses, bone, and the black sheens of carrion. The examinees spread out, instructions echoing faintly from men posted along the ridge.
Ethan's panel nudged him again with a quieter mission UI.
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PANEL — HOST ACTIONS (PRIVATE)
Suggested Approach:
1. Observe eagles' flight patterns for three cycles.
2. Move along wind shadow of rock outcrops (use Terrain Awareness).
3. If eggs are warm (indicates recent laying), approach slowly and mimic ambient sound.
4. Extraction Ticket option available for Eagle Feather Resonance or Cliffmaster Trait.
Host PP: 1,380
Available Tickets: 1 Extraction Enhancer ×2 (stored)
Recommendation: Preserve ticket for critical rescue or forced extraction; use minor-ticket if using a blade for stability.
---
He hesitated a fraction and then, because he trusted his own judgment, kept his hands free and his head clear. The logic of the climb was elegant: follow the safest line, watch the birds, take a nest that hadn't fully hardened its defenses.
Gon bounded with white-knuckled joy to the nearest ledge; Killua followed like a practiced echo. Ethan kept a steady pace that let him read the birds' rhythms—three beats to the left then a wide sweep; a glide that always ended a talon-first dive.
The first Spider-Eagle that noticed movement shrieked a single high note and wheeled. Its shadow fell on the ledge like a curtain. Two others dove in formation, talons aimed, beaks open for shredding. Examinees scattered. Someone screamed.
Ethan didn't freeze. He let his training—practiced reflexes and his recent extraction gifts—pull him into motion. He moved as he had in other worlds: not flashy, not miraculous, but precise. A step to the side, a hook of a boot into a crevice, and his hand closed on a protruding root. He pulled himself low and used the sudden motion to catch a descending talon with the back of his wrist—not to grapple the bird, but to buy space for someone else. The maneuver looked ordinary enough to the untrained eye; to Ethan it was a choreography of tiny, life-saving angles.
Gon's hand closed on a nest wedged between two boulders. It was larger than he expected—pale shell with webbed filaments stuck to the top. The egg pulsed with a warm, living heat.
The moment Gon touched it, the Spider-Eagles made a sound like the tearing of pages. One bird dived straight for the boy.
Killua moved first: a blur of motion that pushed the bird aside in a clean arc. Gon stayed low, clutching the egg protectively, eyes huge with the awareness of risk and responsibility. Around them, other examinees scrambled and one or two tumbled off the less protected ledges—nothing lethal, but frightening enough.
Ethan edged forward, not to take the egg from Gon—no. Canon did not need that—but to be the steadying presence in case the cliff utterly unraveled. He remembered the Panel's early suggestions and used the terrain: he found a shadowed grip and dug fingers into lichen. From that stance he could counter any sudden knock and offer a secure shoulder if needed. It was a small role. It was the role he'd chosen: be the man who keeps a scene from spilling into catastrophe, not the man who rewrites outcomes.
Above them a screech rose. Hisoka, on a far ledge, clapped slowly as if he enjoyed the theatre. Ethan felt his skin tighten and kept his head down. Hisoka's smile was a blade; the last thing Ethan wanted was to be the new toy.
Gon rose with the egg—careful, awkward, triumphant. The examinees who had not fallen cheered. For a beat, time condensed into something bright and pure: a boy having done what he set out to do, the world holding, just barely, its fragile order.
Netero watched from his small entourage, expression inscrutable. He inclined his head slightly as Gon passed below. The chairman's acknowledgment was small but it mattered; it was the kind of canonical beat Ethan could witness but not hijack.
Ethan's panel pulsed a private reward window—phase completion pinging, tiny triangular shards of PP and stat fragments coalescing.
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PANEL — MISSION COMPLETE (PRIVATE)
Event: Egg retrieval observed (canonical outcome preserved)
Rewards:
• +75 PP (base reward ×10 applied)
• Small trait: Eaglewatch Reflex (+2 Perception temporary)
• Option unlocked: Convert Eagle Feather Resonance (50 PP) or keep as Extractable.
Next Suggestion: Travel with the group to the roasting pit; remain available for rescue. Keep extraction enhancers safe.
---
Ethan smiled inwardly and did something small and quiet: he used the Panel to flag a tiny, non-invasive extract—an Eagle Feather Resonance—and converted it into an internal calibration that sharpened his peripheral focus for the rest of the day. It cost a tidy sum of PP—well earned—and felt like sliding a key into a lock.
The climb down was chaotic but survivable. The wind tore at the eggshells and the feathers. A few examinees slipped; Ethan helped a young woman scramble to a secure foot, his hands steady and unspectacular. He did not take another egg, did not push his presence into Gon's light. He stayed useful, small, precise—the kind of presence that lets the main actors keep their arcs intact.
When the group returned to Netero's pavilion, he regarded them with mild interest. Gon presented his egg with that simple pride that had always been his hallmark. Netero smiled—an approving curl at the corner of his mouth—and the official record noted the achievement. The exam continued.
Ethan accepted the private PP into his ledger without fanfare. He felt the multiplication under his skin, the quiet tally of margin that would allow him to make better choices later.
As the party reassembled and the next instructions were called out, Hisoka's gaze grazed Ethan's shoulder for a heartbeat—just a ghost of attention—and then slid away to prying at other curiosities. Ethan let out a breath he had not realized he'd been holding. The world had turned, canonically, exactly as it should have. Gon's test had been the test; Ethan had been a hand on the ledge preventing a tiny collapse.
They packed for the next leg of the exam: tests of judgement, of luck, and of the strange moral engineering the Hunter Exam bred into its participants. Ethan slid the Panel under his sleeve and kept his face blank as the afternoon thickened into tasks he would meet in the same small, efficient way he had met the cliff: with care, with restraint, and, when necessary, with action that did not rewrite the story.
He had come to this timeline to learn, to grow, and to be present without being the center. Mount Split-In-Half had been a test for him, too—not only of skill, but of the rules he lived by now. He had passed, in his fashion.
And somewhere, up on a distant ledge where wind cut sharp as knives, Hisoka's smile kept hunting the horizon for new playthings. Ethan pulled his sleeve down, feeling the Panel's soft glow like a pulse against his skin, and walked with the group toward the next gate—toward the small, precise violence of the exam yet to come.