Hunter X Hunter : The Boundary

Chapter 17: Steel Ball Run

The spring breeze in Tower City carried a trace of warm sand, stirring a yellow dust mist across the abandoned old cable factory. As dusk fell, sunlight filtered through the trees, dappling the white chalk target circles on the ground.

Ryan, now twelve years old and nearly 1.7 meters tall, stood on a concrete slab fifteen meters away. He held a slingshot, his right hand slowly drawing back the elastic band— a thumb-sized steel ball settled into the leather pouch.

He didn't release immediately. He adjusted his aim with the precision of a sculptor—a millimeter shift of the wrist, a locked elbow, a steady shoulder. Breath, wind direction, the tension of the band—all were variables in his mind.

Whoosh.

The steel ball cut through the air in a silent, precise arc, striking the upper-left corner of the second target circle with a sharp tink. He showed no joy, only walked forward and marked the impact point with chalk. It was his eighty-first shot of the day.

His daily training had long surpassed that of any ordinary athlete. His body was a combat-ready weapon— but he knew close-quarters fighting wasn't enough.

To survive in the Hunter World, he needed a full-range combat structure: a seamless integration of long, mid, and close-range capabilities.

The slingshot was his first step into long-range warfare. It was portable, concealable, and legal. More importantly, the precision and rhythm it demanded were almost identical to the application of a conjured weapon.

He'd saved for three months to buy it—not a toy, but a professional model with a hard rubber string and an aluminum alloy arm brace. Every day after school, he came to this wasteland to practice.

Within a month, he could shatter a glass bottle from fifteen meters away. Within two, he could hit moving cans on a sloped, uneven surface.

The slingshot training was the first pull of the string before the trigger.

As dusk settled, Ryan switched to a lighter slingshot and smaller steel balls. This was a new drill. He had set up five targets on springs and rubber bands, their movements irregular and unpredictable. The goal wasn't just to hit them, but to use the chaos to achieve deterrence and force a retreat.

He took a deep breath. Whoosh—the first ball ricocheted off a concrete wall, clanging against steel beams. The second grazed a crossbeam, sparking, and landed one centimeter in front of a swaying can, making it recoil violently. He shifted, firing three consecutive shots, forcing the "enemy" targets into a state of passive self-concealment.

This wasn't just shooting. It was a symphony of deployment, interference, and pressure. In eight seconds, he had completed seven actions, successfully rendering one-third of the training ground a "no-go zone" for his imaginary foes.

That night, he didn't meditate immediately. He pulled out his notebook and sketched the combat zone. Red lines for enemy sight lines. Black dots for impact points. Blue circles for forced movement nodes. Grey fans for areas of suppression.

Afterward, he entered meditation. He emptied his mind, allowing his body to naturally replay the training. As his consciousness settled, he felt it— a warm current, like a line, in the palm of his hand. His knuckles vibrated with a force that was not muscular.

He "saw" a silver-grey crossbow-ish weapon, its form still incomplete, but its strings and pivot points were clear. It was the proto-circuit of a conjured Nen entity.

He didn't try to control it. He just observed. When he recalled a missed shot, it vibrated softly. When he replayed a successful hit, it seemed to flex. When he thought— How would I shoot it? It pulsed like a flicker of light in water.

It was not a weapon. It was his will, given concrete form through combat. This was the essence of a conjuration-type. He opened his eyes and took a deep breath.

A weapon isn't something you take. It's something you pull from your own heart.

Nen wasn't in his fingertips or on the enemy. It was in every judgment, every choice, and in the silent thought just before the steel ball was released: I will act.