"Tap… tap…"
Roy walked straight past the little beggar and followed the knight's attendant at an unhurried pace.
Once he was far enough away, the street—momentarily silenced—gradually returned to its earlier noise.
The children who had sprinted off came back. Seeing Roy leaving, they froze for a beat, then rushed over and hauled the beggar up.
"Hey—Paramon! You actually didn't get kicked to death like Jerome did. Lucky bastard!"
Jerome had been part of their little gang of street kids. Late last month he'd fought over a barley cake, accidentally brushed against Andrew, and got flattened on the spot—Lon'gong smashed him with a shield. White, yellow, red spilled everywhere; the boy was pressed into meat paste. It had nearly made the other kids vomit up their stale dinner.
So Paramon had done something even worse today—he'd crashed into him head-on—and yet nothing happened. Plenty of onlookers—the cart-pulling man, the mushroom-selling woman—couldn't help muttering that Paramon was lucky.
Paramon snapped out of his stupor and stared in a daze after the direction Roy had gone. His crotch felt cold; he looked down and realized he'd peed himself. He clamped his legs together, desperate not to let anyone notice.
Fortunately, after a few murmured remarks, everyone abruptly met the slave dealer's malicious gaze and scattered like startled birds. No one had time to care about Paramon.
Paramon shouted "Wait for me!" and waddled off with his legs clamped in a ridiculous, awkward run, slipping out of the slaver's line of sight and vanishing into a narrow alley.
A lazy gust of wind drifted by, breaking up a white cloud overhead.
In this muddy, filthy place, the only thing that soothed Roy at all seemed to be that strip of blue sky above.
His silver hair had already become brown and hung down his back. A faint red glow pulsed in his eyes. He glanced at the man leading him—back rigid, face hard—then, from Andrew Cooper's memories, recognized him.
A man named Dunn. He served as bodyguard to Knight Edmond Berberg, and he was also a nen user.
Just from his "blood vitality" and "aura," he was clearly far stronger than the cart-pulling man or the mushroom seller.
The Eye of Truth flickered; information slid into Roy's mind:
Dunn West
Knight's attendant
Physique: 274
Visible aura: 74,120 / 100,000
Potential aura: 270,000 / 1,000,000 (Void)
Rank: C-
Note: Elite Chimera Ant squad-leader level—below a squadron leader, but a cut above ordinary elites
Reference: the lion-type Hagya who once fought Kite
Roy raised an eyebrow and quietly filed away the word "Void." He looked again at Dunn—silent, uninterested in conversation—and felt something oddly familiar about him. Like a blessing, maybe… but not quite. It was strange.
"Tap… tap…"
They walked in that eerie silence, neither speaking, and soon reached a luxurious villa.
A broad open space had been cleared out front, tiled with fine stone. Beside it ran a straight asphalt road—proof that Bandel City and the Samir Duchy weren't as primitively backward as Roy had imagined.
It also proved something else:
Modern things were controlled by the upper class and almost never flowed down to the bottom.
"Good afternoon, Sir Dunn!" The guards at the gate snapped upright, removed their hats, and saluted the moment they saw him.
Dunn—early thirties, wearing an open-front vest cinched by a thin belt—nodded as usual. When the doors opened, he led Roy inside without pause.
Roy kept up Andrew Cooper's mannerisms as he entered, recalling how Andrew usually behaved here. As he passed the gate guards, he took a quick measure of them: most were E-rank, about the level Gon and Killua had right after opening their aura nodes. They likely knew only Ten and Zetsu; they hadn't reached Hatsu yet. What they lacked most was a proper teacher.
Roy adjusted his hem, then stepped into the courtyard behind Dunn.
From the villa's grand hall, lewd music drifted out.
Now and then, a man's heavy breathing and obscene laughter cut through it.
Roy's thoughts flashed back to what he'd seen in Libery Garcia's heart—his noble father and the captain of the guards taking turns with Lady Garcia.
Roy lowered his lashes and took a slow breath. Dunn opened the front doors, looked back once, and said flatly:
"Go ahead."
Roy nodded and entered the hall.
A potbellied middle-aged man swirled a wineglass, watching several young men and women in skimpy outfits dance and sing. Their most private parts were covered with thin gauze—just enough to hide, just enough to tease—maddeningly half-revealed.
Roy stood quietly to the side like Andrew would, not interrupting.
When the man finished his drink, he waved. Dunn ushered the dancers away. Only one young man was left—pulled into the man's lap.
Then the man belched and sighed.
"Andrew… none of these compare to your wife's little tricks."
Edmond Sander stroked the boy's back and gave Roy a crooked smile.
"Lucky you. If your wife hadn't caught Lord Simon's eye, you wouldn't have gotten a sweet job like collecting souls."
Simon… the deputy commander of the security corps.
Roy searched Andrew's memory and pictured a man with a huge hawk nose, tall and wiry, always wearing a monocle—smiling in a way that made your spine go cold.
Roy pressed a hand to his chest and bowed modestly.
"It's all thanks to Lord Edmond's guidance. Without you, there'd be no Andrew today."
"Heh heh heh… spare me the pleasantries." Edmond grinned lewdly. "We've been in the same hole before, haven't we?"
"Your wife's my wife. You do good work, and I look good in front of Lord Simon."
"Yes," Roy answered.
"Alright. How's the progress?" Edmond slumped into his chair, propping his chin on his hand.
Roy's mind flashed—Old Mark, Nora, little Mattie's skin turned into a flask, the countless parents and grandparents who fed themselves to beasts so their children might enter the city.
He forced the rage down.
"As you ordered, I've collected eleven."
"Eleven?" Edmond's brow furrowed and his face darkened. "That's it? Where are the premium goods? How many good ones?"
Premium goods—souls of nen users.
There was a gulf between ordinary and awakened. Even "post-mortem nen" in commoners couldn't compare to nen users.
Roy searched Andrew's memories and understood exactly what "premium" meant. He lowered his head.
"Apologies, Lord Edmond. None yet."
The room went cold, like someone hit a mute switch.
A moment later, Edmond smiled and nodded.
"Mm."
He ignored Roy and instead looked at the trembling boy in his lap.
"Why are you shaking? Are you scared?"
The boy's bare back shivered. Only a thin triangular brief covered him. He forced a smile.
"No, sir. I'm not."
"Lying. You're terrified."
"No, sir…"
"Still lying!" Edmond's expression turned vicious. His thick hand shot out and clamped the boy's throat—Ten flaring on his palm. Like a chicken, the boy was lifted into the air.
His face purpled fast. He kicked and clawed at Edmond's arm, flailing like someone drowning—seconds from blacking out.
"Mmph… mmph…"
His breathing dwindled.
Only then did Edmond seem to remember Roy. He glanced over and asked lazily:
"Andrew. Doesn't he look like you?"
Roy's body jolted. He looked up—
And the anger he'd been suppressing exploded.
His eyes flashed red.
Zzt— Laser.
Two blazing beams shot from Roy's eyes.
Edmond didn't even have time to react.
The beams severed his fat arm clean off at the wrist.
He screamed like a slaughtered pig.
Thud—
The boy and the severed hand dropped. The boy sucked in air like it was his first breath on earth, then collapsed face-first, making thick, rasping sounds.
Still dazed, he stared at Roy—his savior—
And in the next instant, Roy blurred into a streak of sunlight.
The boy's vision swam, and suddenly—
Roy was there.
One foot planted on Edmond Sander's greasy face, Roy's eyes burning with a rage so intense it looked like blood.
"Why?"
"Why do you have to scare me like that?"
"Don't you know I'm easily startled?"
Crunch.
Roy ground his foot down—skin, bone. Edmond's screams pierced the hall.
Before long, the commotion reached Dunn West and the dozen guards outside.
Dunn's face twisted as he hit the hall entrance.
"Lord Edmond!"
He whirled and charged in—followed by a rush of armed guards.
The doors burst open.
When they saw Edmond under Roy's boot, everyone froze.
Dunn and the guards stared, stunned—and then roared as they surged forward.
"Andrew Cooper, do you know what you're doing?!"
"Damn you! Let Lord Edmond go!"
"Don't come closer!"
A sudden shout stopped Dunn dead in his tracks.
Roy narrowed his eyes. A powerful aura pulsed under his foot.
He flashed into sunlight again—light-form—and retreated.
In the same instant…
Edmond Sander, missing one hand and pinned moments ago, swelled grotesquely.
His chest, head, arms, thighs bloated. Gray corpse-mottling spread over his skin. His body expanded into a massive putrefied giant, then—
It couldn't hold.
It exploded.
"BOOM! Don't come any closer! I'll tear you apart!"
A roar of rage came with the blast.
Countless foul, stinking "aura bullets" sprayed out, then fused again into a single river of rot, surging toward Roy.
Roy's eyes flared red; Eye of Truth locked on.
Information slammed into his mind:
Edmond Sander
Knight…
Physique: 1543
Visible aura: 110,000 / 1,000,000
Potential aura: 870,000 / 1,000,000 (Void)
Rank: B-
Note: Elite Chimera Ant squadron leader level—below Royal Guard, above ordinary squadron leaders
Roy frowned.
Again—the word "Void."
He stared at Edmond and at Dunn, watching from the side. Both clearly carried something like a blessing, once… twice… maybe even three times.
So the question became:
These were "castaways," forced into Uzuki Great Forest under God's curse.
Where did their blessings come from?
Too many questions tangled together.
Roy stopped trying to untangle them.
He widened En and released a Heartbug, then exhaled a heavy breath that carried sleep itself.
It spread like a fog through the hall, down corridors, into the courtyard.
"Sleep."
Dream Domain—activate.
A silent ripple rolled out.
It struck Edmond's rotten tide—the tide faltered.
It struck Dunn—his eyes unfocused and his body staggered.
It struck the guards—weapons clattered from numb hands, and they dropped like dumplings into a pot.
And the dancers—still without opened aura nodes—fell where they stood.
Birds. Insects. Anything alive.
Anyone who met those eyes, anyone who touched that "sleep," froze—
Then collapsed.
"You… you're not Andrew Cooper!"
"Lord Edmond, careful! This isn't Andrew!"
"His aura is wrong!"
~~~
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