In the game world of the main island, the players found themselves in Battle Mode. Ging was sitting on a hill beside a river, surveying his surroundings from an elevated vantage point. He had formed a team with several gang members to face five enemies.
His appearance had transformed the hero card he'd chosen, the jungler Graves. The tough-looking shotgun in his hands and his overall appearance felt out of place, but it was only cosmetic. Despite these changes, players experienced no physical discomfort or awkwardness in their movements.
Upon entering the game, however, Ging discovered that his abilities were completely suppressed, almost sealing an effect of the game's rules that applied equally to all players in both the Red and Blue camps. They would have to grow stronger as the game progressed, earning experience points and purchasing equipment with the ultimate goal of destroying the enemy's base crystal. The gameplay was intriguingly designed, and most importantly, team members could mentally communicate regardless of distance.
His ID and level hovered above his head, currently showing level 3. In the distance, along a wide road where soldiers from both armies clashed, one of his teammates was engaged in combat with an enemy. Ging found their battle almost comical, as they were obviously unfamiliar with their heroes' abilities.
As he approached the midline, he noticed that the enemy jungler had appeared in the top lane, creating a 2v1 situation. The outlook wasn't promising. His top lane teammate's mind was filled with curses, questioning Ging's absence.
"Well," Ging sighed softly, deliberately ignoring his teammate's complaints. He'd promised to help these four win the game in exchange for their cooperation.
In Ging's opinion, the opposing jungler's strategy was fundamentally flawed. The game's resources were clearly limited, and the term "jungle" itself revealed crucial information. The leveling mechanism suggested that efficient resource allocation was the key to gaining an early advantage. The jungle hero's primary task should be to kill the Warcraft-style monsters in the mountainous areas; why else would the game design include these zones?
These gangster Nen users are just playing around," he thought, but found it intriguing nonetheless. Though simple in concept, this game mode was engaging, testing both teams' strategic thinking, operational skills, teamwork, and individual decision-making. The distinctive hero designs and terrifying jungle creatures showed remarkable creativity, all from one person's vision.
Ging was forced to reevaluate his previous judgments. Even many of Greed Island's gameplay elements weren't solely his creation; several partners had contributed ideas and suggestions. From that perspective, he had to admit that he might be slightly inferior to Oboro.
"But," Ging sprinted down the mountainside and aimed his shotgun at several razor-beaked birds perched at the base. As he pulled the trigger, the massive raptors immediately swooped down on him. He created distance as he aimed and fired, his mind still analyzing other matters.
It was hazy, but he'd visited Whale Island years ago, which meant that its existence was known long before Oboro joined the Association. Based on this timeline, how had Oboro known about it? Besides the old man and a few others, was Oboro's purpose in joining the Association also connected to Ging?
He couldn't believe that Oboro's visit to Whale Island had been purely coincidental. As he rolled to avoid a diving shadow, his eyes narrowed and his thoughts turned to the President, Biscuit and Pariston.
He activated the hero's Q skill, End of the Road. Violent energy erupted from the barrel with a thunderous report, leaving scorched earth in its wake. Shotgun shells ricocheted in its path, dealing secondary damage.
"Huh? There's even a slow effect," Ging noted excitedly as the hit raptor screamed, its movements becoming sluggish. The attention to detail in this game was impressive; each ability had additional effects that required thorough familiarity to master.
Continuing his analysis, he recalled Netero's vague statement that Oboro had piqued Pariston's interest, though the old man never clarified who was more skilled. The President preferred to stand aside and watch events unfold.
At least in the years since Oboro had joined the Association, Pariston hadn't succeeded in whatever he had planned. Oboro's method matched Ging's own complete indifference and avoidance. It was an incredibly shrewd decision, one that Ging had also made.
Always treating Pariston like air While Ging found it annoying, he sensed Oboro held it in even greater contempt. When they fought, the old man usually didn't intervene unless things got serious. Netero's presence prevented either side from going all out, so it was wiser not to get involved in Pariston's plans in the first place.
The man simply wanted opponents to fight, and the more he was hated, the more satisfied he became. Pariston loved to destroy anything beautiful, whether it was peace within the Association, promising talent, attractive appearances, or admirable personalities. He tried to corrupt anything he considered "good.
The President had also mentioned that even Biscuit struggled with Oboro and often ended up frustrated. Combining all these factors, Ging came to a conclusion: Oboro knew them all intimately.
His appearance on Hero Island and his successful negotiation with Ging seemed to fall within Oboro's expectations, possible only through a deep understanding of Ging's character.
"Perhaps he's known key figures in the Association longer than anyone suspects. One thing's for sure, this couldn't have been achieved through gang connections alone. Besides, his first meeting with Biscuit in the sky arena showed signs of unprecedented Nen cultivation.
After dispatching the group of raptors, golden light enveloped his body with a warm sensation. He'd reached level 4. As he watched the gold coin counter in his game interface jump, a single phrase materialized in his mind: Omniscient and omnipotent.
Ging remained calm, unperturbed by his analytical conclusions. Although it seemed absurd, it wasn't entirely implausible. It could explain another mystery, Oboro's knowledge of the Dark Continent, even though he had never been there. Some of these secrets were only known to Ging years after he had joined the Association.
"They planned this long ago, foreseeing every step of this game. The Player Contract is a contract, all plans based on personal will. No hidden powers or figures pulling the strings, so where does your omniscience and omnipotence come from?"
"From this land?" Ging looked skyward and muttered to himself.