The second trial room of the Tallrock Prison Tower felt different the moment the door slid open. The air inside was thick and warm, carrying the strange mixture of sweat, metal, and stale humidity that only places full of desperation produced.
It wasn't a single chamber.
It was an arena layered in platforms—suspended squares of grating connected by swinging bridges and long narrow beams. Below them was nothing but darkness, the kind of void that swallowed sound and imagination alike.
Three convicts waited across the central platform.
Their chains rattled softly as they shifted to face the group.
One was tall and lean, moving with the casual arrogance of someone who had grown comfortable with violence.
One was short, wide, and smiling too politely.
The last was androgynous, quiet, with eyes that shimmered with calculation.
A monitor descended again.
The mechanical voice echoed:
"RULE: A majority vote selects the convict to compete against. Contest type: chosen by the convict. Win to proceed."
Leorio groaned. "Again with the majority stuff…"
Killua tilted his head. "At least we choose our opponent this time."
Gon leaned forward. "They all look strong."
Ethan resisted the urge to activate the Panel. He didn't need to. He had already memorized their stance patterns, weight distribution, and tension in their limbs.
The convicts were not equal.
The tall one was a fighter—too eager.
The short one was a talker—probably illusion or trick based.
The quiet one was the most dangerous—someone who relied on subtle traps or mental games.
The Panel chimed anyway, slipping a private tooltip under Ethan's sleeve.
---
PANEL — SCAN RESULT (PASSIVE)
Convict A (Tall): Prefers strength contests; low strategy
Convict B (Short): Prefers luck-based contests; moderate trick risk
Convict C (Quiet): Prefers psychological games; high manipulation risk
Recommendation: Choose Convict A for lowest deviation and stable outcome.
---
Gon stepped forward, voice bright. "We pick the tall guy!"
Leorio blinked. "Just like that?!"
Gon nodded. "He feels the most honest."
Killua smirked. "For once, I agree."
Kurapika looked at Ethan. "You?"
Ethan shrugged. "Tall one is straightforward. Better than gambling or mind games."
Leorio sighed. "Fine, fine. I'm outvoted anyway."
The tall convict cracked his knuckles as the other two retreated into the shadows.
"Well then," he said. "Let's make this interesting."
The monitor beeped again.
"The convict chooses the contest."
Breezing past them, the tall man grabbed a large metal crate and slammed it down on the platform. The clang reverberated through the room.
He flipped the crate open.
Inside were two iron spheres—each the size of a bowling ball but far heavier, judging by the way the convict's arms flexed.
"A simple strength challenge," he grinned. "Hold the sphere out at arm's length. Last one to drop it wins."
Leorio's jaw dropped. "That's impossible! Those weigh—what—fifty kilos?!"
Gon grinned. "Cool!"
Killua rolled his eyes. "Of course you think it's cool."
Kurapika said, "We don't need Gon to win—we need at least one of us to win."
The convict held up his sphere with one hand, perfectly horizontal, as if it were a children's toy.
Leorio sputtered. "I—he—I can't do THAT!"
Ethan exhaled quietly.
Time to intervene subtly.
He stepped forward. "I'll go."
The group blinked at him in surprise.
Gon's eyes widened. "Are you sure, Ethan?"
Kurapika frowned. "This will be grueling."
Killua tilted his head. "You've got good form, but this is crazy."
Ethan gave a small smile. "I'll manage."
Truth:
He couldn't out-muscle this convict.
But strength wasn't the only factor.
Technique, balance, and micro-adjustment mattered just as much.
The Panel hummed softly, offering assistance.
---
PANEL — MICRO-BOOST AVAILABLE
Option: Reinforce Muscular Micro-Stability (temporary +5 Strength; +10 Endurance for 1 minute)
Cost: 60 PP
Low Risk Visibility
Recommended: Accept
---
He accepted.
The effect washed over him—a tightening under the skin, a deeper breath, a subtle aligning of every fiber of muscle into something more efficient.
Not supernatural.
Just optimal.
Ethan lifted the iron sphere.
It burned immediately through his arms, but he locked his elbow and found his centerline.
The convict smirked.
"Ready?"
The monitor flashed.
"BEGIN."
The weight dragged downward like a living thing.
Ethan grit his teeth.
He could feel the tremor threatening his wrist, elbow, shoulder. Every muscle begged for relief.
The convict stood perfectly still, grinning like a cat.
Seconds dragged.
Leorio hissed, "Ethan, if it's too much—!"
Kurapika frowned, analyzing Ethan's posture.
Killua watched with surprising intensity.
Gon clenched his fists in encouragement.
The convict chuckled. "Ready to give up, kid?"
Ethan exhaled, slow and deliberate.
He let his stance shift slightly—just a centimeter of rotation in his hip.
The Panel flickered a tooltip:
---
PANEL TIP: Form Correction Accepted. Stance Efficiency +12%.
---
The sphere steadied.
The convict blinked.
"Oh? You've got technique."
Ethan didn't answer.
Talking cost oxygen.
Time mattered more.
Thirty seconds.
Forty.
Fifty.
The convict's grin faltered.
Sweat collected on his forehead.
His arm shook.
Barely—but it shook.
Killua's eyes widened.
"He's… beating him."
Gon pumped his fist silently.
The convict snarled and tried to adjust his grip.
That was his mistake.
The instant his wrist dropped a fraction, the monitor BEEPED.
"CONVICT LOSS. DOOR UNLOCKED."
The sphere fell from the convict's hand and hit the metal floor with a heavy clang.
Ethan held his sphere for two extra seconds—long enough for Gon to yell encouragement—before letting it drop with a loud sigh.
His arm throbbed all the way from shoulder to fingertips.
Kurapika immediately walked over, checking for strain.
Killua poked Ethan's arm with a mixture of impressed and annoyed disbelief.
Leorio laughed. "Holy—! You actually did it!"
Gon's eyes sparkled. "Ethan! That was amazing!"
Ethan shrugged, wincing slightly. "Just good form. That's all."
The convict stared at him, breathing hard.
Then he grinned—a real grin.
"Haven't had a challenge like that in years. Respect, kid."
He stepped aside.
The platform door groaned open.
A staircase spiraled downward.
Gon whispered, "That's the way to the next level…"
Ethan flexed his aching fingers.
The boost was fading; real pain set in.
But he had passed the trial without exposing unnatural abilities.
The group descended the steps in tight formation.
Their footsteps echoed against the cylindrical walls as the air grew cooler.
Another chamber waited below—larger, dimmer, shaped like an old underground transit station.
Gon whispered, "Each level is harder…"
Killua licked his lips. "Good."
Kurapika nodded. "Focus. The next challenge will likely involve time manipulation or teamwork."
Leorio sighed. "Why can't it ever be something normal…"
Ethan walked quietly, mind ticking through the Panel's next predictions.
The Tower was only beginning to reveal its tricks.
And somewhere deeper, the challenge that could fracture the timeline if mishandled waited like a sleeping beast.
He tucked his sleeve over the Panel and stepped into the next vast chamber.
The 72-hour descent continued.