The young priest smiled gently, his silver hair spilling down like a river of stars. Under the moonlight, it gleamed with a crystalline sheen.
He lifted a hand to stop Kastro from forcing himself up, then walked forward at an easy pace. One step carried him over the scattered rubble, two more brought him past the broken stone wall, and on the third he stood in the courtyard.
He advanced on Hisoka unhurriedly, calm and composed.
He looked like nothing more than an ordinary priest, no different from any other youth at a glance. But the tranquil, effortless presence radiating from him without a trace of force was projected through the Champion Owl's image all the way into the First Prince's palace in the Kakin Empire, and it made Grant and the rest of Benjamin Hui Guo Rou's private guards narrow their eyes involuntarily. Their fists clenched on their own, as if facing a deadly enemy.
He isn't even using Ren. Is that because he disdains using it?
Or is Guzman right? Does Roy Zoldyck really have the kind of presence where, simply by standing there, every gaze is drawn to him?
Silence fell over the palace.
Grant shot Guzman a cold glance. The green-haired youth's strange pupils were half-hidden behind his bangs as he stared at the image of Roy, giving away nothing.
At that moment, he seemed to remember the day Roy pierced straight through his heart in Meteor City. The pain twisted his face in memory, and a perverse flush quietly crept over his cheeks.
Tap. Tap.
The light tapping of fingers on an armrest drifted faintly down from the throne.
Benjamin Hui Guo Rou sat there with a bizarre Nen beast crouched behind him, something like a fly with a multitude of compound eyes. Its many eyes spun, all fixing on Roy in the screen. Then its mouth opened, revealing two rows of eerie, razor-sharp teeth, and it gave a creepy grin.
Step. Step.
Back in Meteor City, at the pale church—
The night had deepened. The moon hung high overhead, pouring silver light everywhere.
The sound of footsteps rang out, like someone stepping directly on the taut strings of people's nerves. On the tops of garbage heaps, in dark corners, behind swaying tree-shadows, all the watchers lurking under cover of night felt their throats tighten and swallowed in unison, as though they'd rehearsed it beforehand.
"The priest…"
"The priest who killed Ilya, Bolton, and Guzman and made such a name for himself…"
"The priest who's rumored to worship the sun…"
"He finally… stepped out…"
All eyes gathered on him.
Kuroro, Pakunoda, Uvogin, Nobunaga, and the others waited breathlessly.
Across the street, False Noble Belrus adjusted the focus on his telescope. The barrel turned as he tried not to miss even the smallest detail.
In the courtyard, silver and red faced each other. As Roy, cloaked in moonlight, walked forward at that measured pace, the distance between him and Hisoka shrank little by little.
"Hehehe…"
The magician smiled, his shoulders trembling. He didn't know whether it was excitement or something else, only that he'd been yearning for this moment for a very long time. He spread his arms and flashed a fan of playing cards in Roy's face like an accordion.
From the two to the ace, then the gray Joker and the red Joker, every card shone smooth as a mirror, catching the moonlight and reflecting Roy's face.
Hisoka ran his tongue over his lips and let out a low moan, then stared at Roy with a thrill that made him shake.
"Priest, ever since we parted in Glam Gas Land, I've finally gotten to see you again."
Ten meters. Nine. Eight. The distance kept closing.
Hisoka seemed unaware of it. He gathered the cards back into his hand and threaded his fingers through his hair in a dazed motion.
"You probably never imagined that for the past two years, ever since you smashed me into that wall, I've been thinking about you every single moment. Dreaming of the day I could stand in front of you again.
And that day…"
He looked up at Roy, ecstatic, trembling.
"…is today."
Five meters. Four. Three. One.
Roy finally stopped. He stood exactly where Kastro had stood before, his feet settling into the other boy's footprints, and looked at Hisoka calmly.
"Are you done talking?"
Hisoka's lips curled higher.
"What if I said I'd never be done?"
He tucked his hands at his waist and stared at Roy from just inches away.
"And what are you going to do about it?"
Roy didn't answer. He simply extended his right hand, curled it into a fist, opened his aura nodes, and let his nen surge. Then he threw the most ordinary-looking straight punch imaginable.
But it carried the True Meaning of Scorching Heat, and it used the same Flame Breathing.
The tidal heat that rolled off it, the fully wrapped golden flames, were enough to make Hisoka's narrow eyes contract.
Before he could react, Roy's fist struck him right in the shoulder blade.
And blasted him away.
"Pfft!"
A mouthful of blood sprayed out.
The red-haired youth bent like a shrimp in midair, his torso folding in on itself as he tore through five or six garbage heaps in a row. He kept flying backward for nearly two hundred meters before finally stopping, crashing into a pile of trash with a clatter and vanishing beneath it—just like Kastro had after that kick.
Too fast. Way too fast.
So fast it looked slow, like your eyes should be able to follow it—but in reality it moved so quickly it fooled the eye completely.
Kuroro, Uvogin, Nobunaga, the scouts sent by the various Meteor City elders—everyone watching went wide-eyed, dumbstruck.
"Wha—what the hell was that?"
"How did that guy go flying?"
"No idea… but I think I saw the priest lift his hand just now—"
A wave of sharp inhales erupted after that first stunned silence, the moment Hisoka disappeared into the trash pile.
Kuroro and Pakunoda exchanged a look. They had already seen Roy's strange methods before, but even they hadn't expected them to be this terrifying when contrasted with Kastro's performance.
One punch, and he sent Hisoka flying back in exactly the same way.
Was that the happiness of being one of his believers?
Or happiness itself?
At that instant, even Uvogin, Nobunaga, Sarasa, and even the normally flighty Shalnark looked toward Kastro lying in the church like a corpse, and couldn't hide the envy on their faces.
In the courtyard, after that casual punch, Roy still hadn't lowered his fist.
His silver hair poured down like a river of stars. He let the True Meaning of Scorching Heat blaze outward with light and heat, while two suns kindled in his eyes. Then he turned and casually glanced at the owl projection as it flapped into the air.
In Kakin, the First Prince's palace went dead silent.
So did the palace hall.
Irritatingly silent.
The same punch. The same breathing rhythm. The same Ten. He didn't even use advanced Nen applications like Ken, Ko, or Ryu, and he still sent Hisoka flying in one blow…
Old Grant fought to control himself so he wouldn't lose composure before the prince. But the younger private guards had nowhere near his discipline—some just stared, some gaped, all of them stunned past the point of recovery.
On the throne, Benjamin's tapping finger stopped.
He narrowed his eyes.
He was still the First Prince of the Kakin Empire, the man most likely to seize the throne in the Succession War. In terms of personal strength and the power of those beneath him, he far surpassed Camilla, Zhang Lei, Tserriednich, and the rest. Even with the mafia families behind them, Benjamin feared none of them.
This prince, dressed in military garb and raised in the army, stared hard at Roy's silver hair spilling like quicksilver over the screen.
Then he asked Guzman, "Compared to what you expected?"
Guzman's face darkened. He stared at the golden flames still wrapped around Roy's fist, their light sharp and brilliant.
"It's like he's a different person from the one I fought."
His green hair swayed as he drew a long breath.
"Hisoka isn't weak. There's no reason he should fail to withstand even one punch from him. And yet he did. Your Highness…"
Guzman lifted his head and looked at Benjamin seriously.
"Now you should believe me. If Roy Zoldyck is allowed to keep growing…"
"He may really surpass Netero and reach A-rank."
A-rank.
Benjamin Hui Guo Rou lifted a brow, resumed tapping the armrest, and kept his gaze locked on Roy.
Then he asked Guzman, "Do I have a grudge against him?"
Guzman blinked, then answered truthfully, "No."
"Does Kakin have a grudge against him?"
"No."
Benjamin looked at him coldly.
"Then why should I listen to you and move against him?"
Guzman fell silent.
After a moment, he said grimly, "For Your Highness to grow stronger. If you devour Roy Zoldyck, then the Second Prince, the Third Prince, and the rest will be nothing to worry about."
Benjamin snorted.
"I never put them in my eyes to begin with."
He straightened in his throne, and his whole bearing changed at once.
Without even looking at the others, he stared at Roy in the screen and said coolly, "I believe you that Roy Zoldyck is extraordinary. But for you to presume you can give orders to me, Guzman…"
"You've overstepped."
Boom.
Multiple surges of Ren bore down on Guzman at once.
Before Benjamin had even finished speaking, Grant and the rest of the private guards exploded with killing intent, their aura shaking the very stones of the palace hall.
A harsh shout rang out:
"Guzman! Apologize to His Highness at once!"
Surrounded on all sides, Guzman's expression shifted. At last he bowed deeply to Benjamin Hui Guo Rou.
"I know my fault. Please forgive me, Your Highness."
Only then, after Benjamin waved a hand, did Guzman let out a quiet breath and step back.
"Just keep watching. The one you trained does have some skill."
"He hasn't lost completely."
Benjamin's calm words made them all turn their attention back to Meteor City.
And, just as he said, a large hand suddenly burst out from a collapsed garbage heap.
Then Hisoka emerged, clutching a severed arm, his awareness restored.
"It hurts… it really hurts… It hurt that much back then, and it still hurts now…"
Roy Zoldyck… I really…"
The red-haired youth laughed, his voice warped with pain and delight as blood sprayed from his mouth.
"I really love you!"
When Hisoka stood up again, everyone watching—Kuroro, Pakunoda, Shalnark, and the rest—grew visibly tense.
"That guy's got one hell of a life," Uvogin muttered.
And nobody disagreed.
Whether it was sheer toughness or something else was another question.
Experts saw one thing, laymen saw another.
Roy looked over and immediately caught the familiar scent in the faint green aura wrapped around Hisoka.
It worked on almost the same principle as Roy's own Drop of Blood Rebirth—not as strong in terms of raw life force, but enough for Roy to understand in an instant:
This life-force-like "skill" currently repairing Hisoka's severed arm had to be the Blessing he'd obtained through the god worshipped by the True Faith Church.
His third Nen ability, after Bungee Gum and Texture Surprise.
A perfect fit, really.
"Zzzzt—"
His severed arm reattached itself.
This time he didn't need Machi's threads.
But sly as ever, even after the arm was fully restored, Hisoka still kept the severed arm in his hand and used Texture Surprise to fake the appearance that he had lost it completely.
Battle IQ this sharp deserved every bit of the title toilet war god.
"Tap… tap…"
The magician who still held the detached arm stepped forward. If anything, the madness and excitement in his eyes had only deepened.
"Come!"
One hundred meters. Fifty. Ten.
He had finally entered his striking range.
Hisoka stepped into the courtyard and smiled at Roy.
"Priest—again."
Roy felt a tremendous pull hit him instantly. He didn't even need to look to know that Hisoka had stuck aura gum to the back of his hand, just like he had on Kastro.
But force works both ways.
The same trick worked on Kastro for two reasons: first, Hisoka's current numbers—boosted by the god's blessing—were much higher than Huashi's; and second, Huashi hadn't known how the ability worked, so he'd gotten caught clean.
But against Roy…
Roy's physique had already broken two thousand, with another four hundred points still banked in his panel.
His feet rooted to the ground like iron stakes.
Not only did he not budge—he yanked back.
Hisoka shot forward with a whoosh, caught by his own pull. Before he could even process it, the huge force dragged him straight toward Roy.
"What insane strength—!"
Still flying, nearly yanked into a stumble, Hisoka's eyes narrowed hard. He copied Huashi's tactic: his right hand still holding the severed arm, he wrapped it in Ken and smashed it downward at Roy's head.
Nen flashed.
Then—bang—
The arm missed.
Roy tilted aside and slipped past it with ease.
And in the very next instant, Hisoka saw that same fist again—the one wrapped in golden fire, carrying immense pressure and force—coming straight toward his face.
"Pfft!"
The wind stopped. The clouds seemed to freeze.
Roy said calmly, "It's over."
And Hisoka, lips curling upward, answered with the exact same calm:
"Yes."
"It's finally about to end."
His already-healed left arm—hidden under Texture Surprise—moved.
He used a playing card as a blade.
And stabbed Roy straight through the heart.
~~~
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