On the opposite side, Larry immediately picked up on the old man's indecision. Netero had been dealt a major psychological blow. His attacks were strong. That much was undeniable. The previous 98 styles had been neutralized only because Tyranitar countered them with brute force. Had they landed cleanly, the damage would have been severe. And the 99th Style? Without Protect, Tyranitar would not have come out of it unscathed. But reality didn't deal in what-ifs. Larry's lips curled slightly. If the old man was still hesitating, then maybe it was time to force a decision. Before Netero could make up his mind, Tyranitar moved.
One step. The earth shook. Another step. The ground trembled violently beneath its weight. Each Step was a drumbeat, hammering against the battlefield, pulsing through the air like the countdown to something inevitable.
Then, its massive jaws parted, revealing rows of razor-sharp steel teeth. A faint white light flickered within its mouth. The energy gathered rapidly, the glow intensifying, shifting from a small orb to a raging column of silver light, growing wider by the second. Hyper Beam. Tyranitar was channeling everything into one final blast. And yet, it did not fire immediately. Instead, it waited. As if daring Netero to act.
For a long, drawn-out moment, silence stretched between them. "...I see." Netero closed his eyes briefly before exhaling a slow, tired sigh. His entire aura softened. The sharp, overwhelming battle presence that had radiated from him moments ago faded completely, replaced by the calm air of an ordinary old man. His hands dropped to his sides, his fighting stance unraveling. "That's enough, Larry," he said at last.
The tension snapped. Tyranitar's glowing beam flickered for a moment before dissipating, the energy dispersing harmlessly into the air. The fight was over. Netero had admitted defeat. It wasn't that he couldn't use Zero Hand—he simply chose not to. It wasn't the risk to his body that stopped him. It was the realization that he wouldn't have been able to enjoy the fight. Not in his current state. "Ho ho ho… I really am getting old," Netero mused, stroking what remained of his beard as he studied Larry thoughtfully.
Perhaps, when the time was right, he could properly prepare and face Larry again. Put on that outfit. Get himself into peak condition. And fight at his absolute best. 'Maybe then...' He smiled, amused at the thought. Unbeknown to Larry, Netero had already decided, If he ever needed someone to handle the Ant King, he now knew exactly who to call.
Meanwhile, Larry was far more focused on something else entirely. His mind honed in on the experience bar. Because with Netero's surrender, the conditions for gaining experience had been fulfilled. And now— Tyranitar's experience gauge had surged forward. Almost full. Not too little, not too much. Just shy of leveling up to S-Class. Larry exhaled, shifting his gaze to the sheer destruction surrounding them.
The battlefield was unrecognizable. The sheer scale of destruction made him pause. The battle between two S-Class … It really was something else. The once-"innocent" island had been utterly transformed by the battle between Netero and Tyranitar.
What had once been a lush, green landscape was now little more than a devastated wasteland. Hardly a single tree remained intact—most had either been obliterated or reduced to splinters. The ground, once covered in soft earth and foliage, was now riddled with deep craters, as if a meteor shower had rained down upon it. Thick clouds of dust still lingered in the air, swirling faintly with every passing breeze. The destruction spoke volumes about the intensity of the battle that had just taken place.
After his fierce exchange with Netero, Larry had no intention of returning to Sebisu Island. He already had his target's number plate—there was no point wasting six days sitting around on that tiny island waiting for the next phase of the exam.
Instead, he followed Netero onto the airship the chairman had called in advance. He would have had to board it eventually after the exam anyway—he was just getting there a little earlier. The moment he stepped aboard, he was met with a small crowd. Beans, Satotz, Menchi, and several others were already there, and the moment they saw the two of them, they quickly surrounded them.
Their expressions were tense, a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty. They knew about the duel. Everyone had heard about the match between Netero and Larry, but none of them had been able to witness it firsthand. The question that weighed heavily on their minds was the same. 'Who won?'
Of course, logic dictated that Netero was the victor. After all, Larry was young—he was talented, sure, but Netero was the legendary chairman of the Hunter Association, a man who had honed his skills for decades. It was unthinkable that Larry could have truly defeated him. That was what they thought. Until they saw the two of them standing side by side. And all their assumptions crumbled in an instant. Netero, usually so composed and untouchable, was... Well, to put it bluntly—he looked rough. His usual sage-like appearance was gone. His once-pristine sportswear was now little more than tattered rags, streaked with dirt and dust. His long, signature beard? Nearly half of it was missing. Sweat clung to his forehead, a clear sign of just how intense the fight had been.
By contrast, Larry stood beside him, looking... exactly the same as before. Not a single scratch. Not a trace of exhaustion. As if he had just gone for a casual stroll. The contrast was staggering. For a moment, no one spoke. Then Beans, his concern evident, took a step forward. "President, are you okay?" It wasn't an exaggerated reaction. Beans had been with Netero for years, and in all that time, he had never seen him in such a state.
Netero was the kind of man who could take down a battlefield of enemies and walk away laughing. But now, he looked like he had been through a full-scale war. And standing next to him was Larry, completely unscathed. The realization sank in like a lead weight. An absurd, impossible thought crept into their minds. 'Did... Did Larry actually win?'
Menchi was the first to crack. She couldn't hold it in any longer. "President... who won?"
Everyone held their breath, their gazes flickering between the two. Netero scratched his cheek awkwardly. Then, with a small chuckle, he gave his answer. "Hohohoho... I lost."
Silence. The words sent a shockwave through the group. Satotz's eyes widened. Menchi's jaw nearly dropped. Beans looked like he might faint. But what stunned them the most wasn't just the admission itself. It was how Netero said it. There was no frustration. No bitterness. No excuse. He had lost, and he was openly admitting it—just like that. Netero never joked about things like this. Which meant... It was true. Larry had defeated the legendary Isaac Netero.
The weight of that truth settled heavily in their chests. Still, the chairman wasn't quite done. "The young are truly formidable," he sighed, shaking his head with amusement. "A complete defeat." That final statement solidified everything. It wasn't just that he had lost. It was that he had lost decisively. The silence in the air was thick, as if none of them knew how to process what they had just heard.