Who Says A God Can't Be A Hunter Too?

Chapter 17

[From Third Person: Hisoka's POV]

"...Well, come on out," Hisoka said aloud, his voice smooth as silk.

There was only deafening silence that surrounded the clearing the magician sat in, besides the gentle wisps of air from the Hemotropic butterflies fluttering wings.

Hisoka's eyes narrowed, a sly smile tugging the corner of his mouth upwards.

"I know you're there."

Still, there was only silence.

The magician easily rose to his feet from the comfortable position he had taken at the foot of the large tree, the butterflies that had perched on his injured shoulder taking flight as he spoke once more, "If you won't come out, I'll come to you."

He turned, taking even, unhurried steps towards the thicket, haughty golden hues trained on the dense underbrush.

A dark, long-haired man quickly rose as Hisoka stopped a few feet away, and amusement shown briefly in the magician's eyes.

In a single swift movement, the man swung a long, sharpened spear, his eyes trained solely on Hisoka. His gaze was cold, contrary to the sweat that beaded on his forehead and trickled steadily down the back of his neck. He swung the spear again, this time taking a defensive stance as he gripped the spear in both hands. "I challenge you to a duel," he spoke out, his voice unwavering.

A slight pause, a chuckle, and the magician replied, "You'll die."

The man gave a nod of his head, accepting his acclaimed fate as he stepped forward into the clearing. He stopped a few feet short of the magician, his stance now offensive. A moment of silence hung between the two, and not even the sound of the evening creatures coming out to play disturbed the stillness in the clearing.

The man gave a battle cry, and came charging at Hisoka. He easily dodged the head-on attack, but the applicant gave him no time to rest, his movements with the spear swift and fluid. Despite that, he was unable to land a blow on the magician who kept dancing out of reach, a mocking smirk on his features. Hisoka merely seemed to be toying with the man who seemed to be tiring out pretty quickly, his attacks quickly becoming sluggish.

The other applicant was becoming agitated, and his next blow aimed at Hisoka sliced the magnificent tree Hisoka had been sitting against in two as the magician evaded the attack, and the tree came crashing down with a resounding boom.

The man stood panting heavily, his body bent over and his fist clenching the spear he held until his knuckles were almost white. He let out a frustrated growl as he once again pointed his spear at Hisoka. "Hisoka, explain yourself – why won't you attack me?!"

"If I continue to avoid your attacks, you'll die eventually," Hisoka replied lightly, his interest in the man already having waned.

During the duration of their fight, the butterflies had swarmed in the clearing, and now that the one that produced the sweet smell they were attracted to stopped moving, the insects had fluttered closer, hovering around the wound in the man's backside.

"I can tell from the swarm of Hemotropic Butterflies that your wounds are grave," Hisoka explained, his gaze shifting downwards as the man collapsed on to one knee. The man was struggling, struggling feebly like every human whose death loomed before them. Hisoka regarded him with disdain, unfeeling and cold to the overly familiar scene before him. "Someone else has already dealt you a fatal blow, yes? Though I do understand your desire to die in battle."

"If you...If you understand so well, w-why do you still refuse to fight me?!" The man had trouble speaking now; sweat continued to trickle down his face and soaked the collar of his shirt, and his wound continued to bleed profusely as he struggled against the inevitable.