Hunter X Hunter : The Boundary

Chapter 21: Ambush

The lower city of Heavens Arena was a chaotic maze of dim lights and deep shadows. On his way home, Ryan's steps were as steady as ever, but a subtle unease gnawed at him.

He was always acutely aware when something was off—not just because his Nen perception had begun to awaken, but because for years, he had lived every second in this city with extreme caution.

As he rounded the third alley, the disturbance finally surfaced.

A flashlight beam stabbed through the darkness, followed by hushed curses and the clang of metal. At the end of the alley, five or six young men were emerging from behind the fence of a construction site. Their faces were mostly covered, but the ferocity in their eyes was not that of common street thugs.

Ryan recognized the one in the lead: Rex, the bully he had humiliated months ago. It seemed he had returned, and this time, he'd brought friends.

"That's him! Don't let him get away!" Rex snarled.

So, they came for me, Ryan thought with a quiet sigh. He wasn't a belligerent person, but when hostility was staring him in the face, he had no choice but to respond.

He scanned the terrain in a split second— a dead end ahead. To the left, a construction zone littered with planks and scaffolding. To the right, a half-finished concrete staircase.

Fighting them head-on is just dumb. He turned and dashed into the narrow alley of the construction zone.

"He's running! Get him!"

The first thug charged in, gripping a rusty steel rod. Before he'd taken two steps, a pebble struck him squarely on the forehead. He stumbled and fell. The one behind him hesitated, and in that moment, Ryan darted out from behind a stack of cement bags, a lightning-fast sweep kick sending the second man crashing into the scaffolding.

The clang of metal and panicked shouts threw the alley into chaos. Ryan didn't linger. He melted back into the shadows, using the dim light to conceal himself behind a concrete pillar. He was waiting for the next one to walk into his trap.

The third man crept forward, his flashlight cutting nervously through the dark. He didn't see the thin string tied at his feet. The string pulled taut, and an iron bucket suspended above fell with a heavy thud, striking his shoulder. His scream echoed through the alley.

The remaining thugs finally realized they were being hunted. Amidst the confusion, Ryan moved. He slammed his knee into one man's lower back, dropping him to his knees, and then knocked him unconscious with a single, precise chop to the neck.

But there were too many of them. Just as he moved to a new position, a wooden bat swept out from the shadows—Rex had finally entered the fray. 

Ryan ducked, the wind from the blow brushing his face. He saw that Rex was better prepared this time. Another thug with a short knife began to circle his flank.

"You're good, kid," Rex sneered, "but you're not getting away tonight."

"Don't be so sure," Ryan replied, a cold smirk on his lips as he charged forward.

The fight was a blur of motion. Blows and dagger slashes cut through the night. Ryan weaved between them, his skill keeping him alive, but a dagger grazed his arm, and blood began to drip from his sleeve.

"Finish him!" Rex roared.

Ryan endured the sharp pain, his mind tracking their attacks. He flicked his right arm, and a chip from a hollow block, held ready in his sleeve, struck the knife-wielder in the eye before closing the distance and smashing an elbow into his jaw. The man collapsed.

The next moment, Rex's bat crashed down from above. Ryan couldn't completely evade this time, and the blow landed hard on his shoulder. His balance shattered, and he stumbled back.

Spurred by a surge of adrenaline, he let out a furious roar, charging forward and landing a powerful straight punch to Rex's chest. The bat dropped. Rex coughed, then knelt on the ground, defeated.

"It's over," Ryan panted. He tied up the unconscious men, gagged Rex, and secured him to the scaffolding. Only then did he allow himself a long, slow breath. The solitary streetlights illuminated the sweat and blood on his face.

"Still not strong enough," he murmured, looking at his scarred hands. He had won, but it was a bitter victory. If he hadn't prepared the battlefield, if his opponents had possessed even a trace of Nen— he would be dead.

Nen was a power he had to master. Now.

He walked away, disappearing into the night as if nothing had happened.

The wounds throbbed, a dull ache spreading from his shoulder. He didn't want to waste stamina forcing Ten to suppress the pain. He gritted his teeth and slipped into an abandoned sewer passage—one of several safe routes he had mapped out in the city.

Inside a hidden, dusty room, he locked the door and retrieved a first-aid kit. He expertly cleaned and bandaged his wounds, his movements precise and efficient.

He sat on a dilapidated chair under the room's single bulb. "I overestimated myself."

It wasn't about skill. It was about his optimism. He had believed he could achieve more without Nen. In battles between the strong, there are no second chances. He had never been given a painful reality check until now.

He began to calmly review the battle, analyzing every mistake, every success. If Rex had Nen... that bat wouldn't have just been an injury. It would have been a broken bone. He picked up the dagger one of the thugs had dropped, his gaze cold. "I have to speed up."

His Nen had awakened, but his mastery with it was pitiful. He couldn't rely on trial and error anymore. He had to find a teacher. His mind raced, searching for a path.

His research into the city's underbelly had revealed one place, a high-risk, high-reward special zone: the enclosed combat floors above the 200th level of Heavens Arena. That was where Nen-users gathered.

"Perhaps it's time to climb the tower," he whispered, his fist slowly clenching.

This safe house, a witness to years of solitary training, would be abandoned after tonight. He was about to embark on a path of no return. He retrieved a crumpled note from a loose floor tile. He had written it to himself long ago. It held only one sentence:

[No one will give you a second chance.]

He folded the note, put it in his pocket, and looked around the dim room one last time. "Thank you," he said softly.

Then he pulled the door shut and walked into the night without looking back.

That night, Ryan took his first real step towards a higher stage.