A vile, shadowy, greedy "craving" seeped through the flesh-bud, using nen and blood-and-flesh as its medium, surging into Roy's heart…
It urgently wanted Roy to find a host, plant it, and let it take root and sprout.
But people always talk about techniques being wielded by humans—never about humans being controlled by techniques. Roy had a faint sense that if he truly obeyed the flesh-bud's urging—mindlessly scattering it, greedily siphoning others' "blood, flesh, and vital essence" to feed himself—then maybe he wouldn't even need Nature's backlash.
He would be the first to lose control, falling into a state… beyond restraint.
That wasn't his path. It wasn't the image in his heart.
Under the red sun, wrapped in a robe of dawn-clouds, the boy flicked his hand expressionlessly.
"Back."
With a pitiful whimper, the flesh-bud—its long tendrils curling tight—collapsed into a stream of nen and poured back into Roy's body, obedient as a dog on a chain.
Shhhk… Like a babbling brook, the nen-stream slipped under his skin. All of Muzan's talents had finished extracting.
Roy exhaled softly, steadied his mind, and finally turned his gaze to… Life Energy, Faith Power, and the negative emotions he'd drawn from Kokushibō, Nakime, and Muzan…
[Current Life Energy: 801]
[Current Faith Power: 174]
[Current Negative Emotions: 8451/10000 (Note: 1549 remaining to awaken the Mangekyō Sharingan)]
A sharp light flared in Roy's eyes. He forced down the urge to upgrade immediately, and a clear realization formed at once—
His gains were far beyond what he'd expected because… he had killed a god.
He had killed the one who built the demon empire, who ruled the night—a god.
This "god" was weak, and when he cowered he had no dignity at all, but his demon blood gave him the right to dominate all demons. Every demon worshiped him, obeyed him, longed for more blood, more favor—so naturally, he became their faith, their one and only.
Roy suddenly remembered a conversation with Netero during the Hunter Exam, back in the Milsy Wetlands.
"What kind of Hunter do you want to be?"
"A Godslayer Hunter."
He pinched a thread of sunlight between his fingers and smiled.
"From now on… I am one."
Then he stepped forward—melding into the morning glow—and vanished two thousand meters away. After absorbing Nakime's Infinity Castle, Roy had advanced again on the path of "space-time."
Flash—flash—flash. Like a startled swan crossing the sky, gone in a blink. When he appeared again after half a day, he emerged from a quiet alley into a noisy, bustling market—the very road he'd once taken down the mountain with Tanjiro on the way to find a master.
And there it was: Mount Sagiri, forever wrapped in mist that blocked the sun.
"Wine for sale~!"
"Homemade rice wine—smells amazing! Heh heh, kid, thirsty? Want two cups?"
"Two cups won't be enough." Roy chuckled and stopped at the stall. He pulled out a pouch of silver and handed it over. "Boss, I'll buy out your stock."
"Buy it out?" The owner was lean but strong—tight cords of muscle from years of hauling yokes and wine jars.
He glared, not even reaching for the money. Instead he slapped the two massive jars beside him. "Kid, I'd love to sell it, but these two full jars—how're you gonna carry them alone?"
"Just sell. I've got a way."
"For real?"
"For real."
The owner eyed Roy suspiciously and finally tucked the pouch away. "Heh—then I wanna see what kind of way you've got."
And then—Roy didn't seem to do anything at all. He just smiled faintly and brushed a hand over the jars…
And the two huge wine jars vanished, like stage magic.
The wine-seller froze. So did the butcher stall and the bun stall nearby—everything went quiet.
Sumeru Mustard Seed—activated.
Roy stored the wine away in that pocket space, waved to the owner, and said, "I'm off."
Then he turned and disappeared into the crowd again, leaving only a glimpse of that flame-red hair swaying in the wind.
"God…?"
"God!!"
A moment later, someone screamed with shaking excitement.
The wine-seller finally snapped back to his senses—and his knees buckled.
Thud. He dropped to the ground.
And once one person knelt, a second followed. Then more. People recognized the red hair, surged forward, and fell to their knees—so much that Roy could only laugh helplessly and flee again with Light Release.
Which only "confirmed" his divinity even harder—sparking shrieks and turning the already loud market into absolute chaos.
In that warm, hazy sunlight, Roy felt the devotion and worship. The panel alerts chimed again like rain on banana leaves: anyone who recognized him had silently become a potential believer, waiting only for a ritual—waiting to be formally "accepted."
Roy felt grateful… and oddly relieved.
At last, he pushed past the crowd and stepped into Mount Sagiri's territory.
With his arrival, the sunlight he carried tore open the thick fog, forming a bridge of mist-rainbow light. At its far end—
Urokodaki Sakonji, working with Sabito and Makomo, digging wild greens, felt it in his bones. He straightened slowly and turned.
Roy's red hair swayed. Dawnlight cloaked him. He stepped onto the bridge and walked forward—smiling gently, carrying an ocean of longing.
From deeper in the mountain came the sound of wooden hammers falling from hands—soft clinks—then the excited shouts of Shinsuke, Fukuda, Watanabe, and the others.
"It's Rōichirō!"
"Master—Rōichirō's back!!"
Then—one, two, three… ten-plus wooden dolls sprinted past Urokodaki, charging straight at Roy.
The old man's hair was silver at the temples. He held Makomo with one hand and Sabito with the other, letting the "kids" run. He just watched, lips trembling as a kind smile formed.
When the boy was finally swarmed right in front of him, Urokodaki lifted his chin slightly and looked up at Roy—now nearly half a head taller.
"You're back… Good. Just… good."
"Yes." Roy flicked his sleeve—two wine jars drifted down lightly. The lids popped off, rich fragrance spilling out, intoxicating.
Roy's eyes swept over everyone, and he smiled.
"I kept my promise. I came to drink with all my senpais."
"You bastard!" Shinsuke leapt up and slung an arm over Roy's shoulders. "Not leaving till we're drunk!"
"Yeah! Not till we're drunk!" Fukuda yelled.
"Not till we're drunk!" Watanabe, Shimizu, and even Mist Rabbit chimed in.
Then Makomo smiled brightly: "Then Master and I will go make food—Rōichirō, and your favorite fish too~"
And in that rare afternoon where Mount Sagiri finally showed a little sunlight—wooden dolls and a bright young man laughed and talked and walked together, until even Urokodaki felt like he'd grown a few years younger… like he might have a few more years left to live.
"So good… This is… so good…"
A whole lifetime flooded back. Urokodaki went into the cabin, killed fish, cooked—and had never, in his entire life, felt this satisfied, this comfortable, this happy.
So much so that—
The nearly sixty-year-old man drank too much. He got drunk. He didn't even know when Roy left.
He just smiled and passed out, and Shinsuke and Fukuda helped him onto the heated platform, where he fell into deep sleep.
A hoarse snore rose. The sun slanted west. From dawn to dusk, they'd practically drunk all day.
Roy took one last deep look at Urokodaki, then bowed with solemn respect.
Outside, at the gate, a wooden boy and a wooden girl were already waiting, as if they'd known.
"Leaving?" Sabito's scar still cut across his mouth. Even after Roy gave him a puppet body with Shu, the fox-faced boy still carried the calm authority of an eldest disciple.
"Yes." Roy nodded.
Muzan was dead. The demons that plagued the world were gone. Only Yushirō and Tamayo remained—and they were good. People could finally live normally, no longer fearing nightfall and being devoured.
But that was for the Demon Slayer world.
For Roy…
Roy met Sabito and Makomo's eyes. "I still have my road to walk."
"Can't you not walk it?" Makomo spoke suddenly, forcing herself to look at him. "Eating together, drinking together, training together, playing around… isn't that good?"
"It is. Of course it is…" Roy lowered his eyes, memories surging. "I love the days with you, too. But…"
The curse on the back of his left hand ticked like a clock.
"I still have a task unfinished."
"What task?"
"Makomo!" Sabito swatted her lightly, then looked up and smiled warmly at Roy. "Tanjiro said your father once told him—you belong to the world. Now I think your father was right."
"Rōichirō, you can't just stop!"
Clang! The fox-boy drew his sword and pointed it to the sky. "Go!"
"Go break through!"
Roy froze, his eyes rippling with watery light.
"Thank you, senpai… for teaching me, knowing me, accepting me."
He bowed—toward Sabito, toward Makomo, toward Shinsuke and Fukuda and the others quietly gathered behind, and toward Urokodaki inside, lips trembling, tears streaming.
Then Roy straightened—his body turned to glittering light—and he smiled as he dissolved into the mist-rainbow bridge, vanishing.
Only his voice remained, carried by the wind, echoing for a long, long time:
"If fate allows, we'll gather again—senpai, Master—somewhere in the world."
And in his heart, he added:
By then, when the curse triggers… I'll probably be able to stay a little longer…
He flew. Light flew. Wind chased.
The figures inside the puppet bodies grew smaller and smaller until they were only dark dots deep in the fog—then the mist closed again, hiding them completely.
Roy inhaled and steadied himself.
He looked toward another mountain not far away, hesitated, and descended onto the top of a tall birch tree—stopping short, not taking a single step forward.
"Rōichirō… could you wait? Let me pick a spider lily for 'Uta.'"
The mountain was right there. That little house—three roofs like a trident—was visible through the trees. Roy's mind moved, and for once he slowed by half a beat, sensing it in the dark: as if he heard Kokushibō's brother, Yoriichi, whispering from beyond death.
"How long?"
"One night."
"Tomorrow, when the spider lilies bloom—please offer one for her. The place…"
"I know." Roy looked beyond the courtyard, deeper into the mountain. There, faint blue shadows swayed—still not in full bloom. He smiled back into the emptiness. "Don't worry, Teacher. I won't let Teacher's wife feel neglected."
"Thank you…"
The whisper faded.
Roy stood on the birch tree for a long time, then flipped down and lay on a smooth rock. He closed his eyes—kept his promise to return tomorrow—and soon fell asleep.
As always, through "deep sleep," he returned to his cognitive world.
This time—
He stepped out of the Demon Slayer Gate without lingering, crossed the kaleidoscopic dream corridor, and returned to the Hunter world.
It was midnight—still nearly two hours from 4 a.m.
In the corner, the wooden clock's pendulum swung, waiting to strike.
Roy woke on the soft bed, blinking sleepily up at the Zoldyck castle's ancient ceiling.
His ears twitched. He turned—
At the desk, somehow, there was a thin, dried-up old man.
Like he'd just come back from a late-night stroll, he sprawled in a chair and said to Roy, "You were right. This bedroom of yours… was once Zigg's bedroom too."
Grandpa Zigg… Roy's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
Maha leaned on the chair arm, propping his chin. "Nightmare? You don't usually wake up at this hour."
Roy's gaze turned cold. "Great-grandpa… were you spying on me?"
"What are you saying?" Maha smirked. "I was helping you chase off a peeper."
"Illumi just left."
Roy's face darkened. Last night he really had forgotten to release Little Goldie.
He sprang upright and looked at Maha flatly.
"Great-grandpa… you wouldn't mind one more granddaughter, would you?"
That brat needs fixing.
"Do what you want." Maha rocked his chair, creaking like a cradle. "Now talk—what happened?"
Strange behavior meant something. The old man rolled his eyes at Roy. "What did you do in your dream?"
"Nothing." Roy paused, then shrugged. "Just… killed a god."
~~~
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