Humans are humans; magical beasts are magical beasts—each with their own territory.
Cities on land belong to humans; jungles and marshes to beasts. But at some point, as humans multiplied faster and faster, they began encroaching on the beasts' ranges—hunting them, eating their flesh, wearing their hides, mounting their heads. Beasts had nowhere to go; their living space shrank by the day.
As a humanoid beast that can take human form, the Kiriko once imagined her half-human, half-fox nature might let her mediate between both sides—win beasts a bit more room to live, even if it meant a fenced preserve.
Reality was cruel. In human eyes, that "half-human" was no different from any other beast—and because she tried to "break up the fight," she drew more fire. Slaughter followed, to the brink of extinction.
Thankfully, "Biological Conservation" Hunters spoke for them, and under the Association's shelter they gained a few habitats. They could live decently—and do a little work for the Association on the side, earn a little coin.
Beneath the sky-piercing cedar on the mountaintop, the Kiriko family rehearsed their "script." It was the annual Hunter Exam again.
The daughter would run point, track examinees.
The father would play the beast, the son the human hostage; the mother would ambush in the woods and draw attention… and wait.
They'd test "powers of observation," "character," "improvisation," and "combat power," one by one.
"Ever since that kid named Ging saw through us, not a single interesting examinee's come by," the son grumbled, a bandage tied around his head as he sat by the hearth honing his knife.
He thought of the boy with the ragged hood and the fishing rod over his shoulder. Ging had seen their identity at a glance—and was strong. Any strike that landed on him, he learned and threw back. A nightmare.
"Quit whining," their mother said, stirring a pot of curry and telling the father to feed the stove. He rose without a word, threw on kindling, and said, "Ging was that year's only pass. He had the strength; no surprise. What bothers me is our girl—gone this long and not back?"
"Son, go see—"
"Yes, Mother."
He grabbed his blade, slid open the door—and a mountain wind rolled in thick with the smell of char. His knife hit the floor with a clang.
"What is it?"
"F—fire…"
"?!"
Father peeked out; mother followed. The three stood dumbstruck in the doorway, staring at the forest ablaze, half the sky gone red. They forgot the curry, shed their human shapes, and tore for the woods.
"Shhh—shhh—shhh—"
Branches bent and swayed underfoot. They twitched their noses, caught the daughter's scent, relaxed a shade, and leapt to stand on two treetops beside her. They squinted into the distance—and gaped.
"What is that thing?"
"Looks like a bird… that big?"
The gilt giant spread its wings and kicked up a gale. It shot straight up, its feathers wreathed in molten gold—where it passed, wind tore and clouds burned. It climbed until it merged with the noon sun—
Then it folded its wings and stooped, arrowing toward the boy at the lake's heart.
"Girl, what happened?" the father asked after a long stare, voice tight. "Don't tell me that boy in the lake is today's examinee."
"If… he is." She swallowed, on the edge of tears. "I don't know—he caught me spying, grabbed me, asked things… I jumped and fled when he looked away—and he just… got mad…"
The foxes: "…"
Doom loomed. The level-headed father was already wondering if they should ring the Association, pack up, and run.
A bird that size, wrapped in gold fire, wings big enough to blot the sky—the boy alone was terrifying; what did that make his master?
They couldn't imagine it.
"Zzz—" One hidden camera in the trees finally gave out and burned.
Aboard the Association's airship, Netero and Zeno stared at the monitor as a quarter turned to static. They said nothing.
When they both thought to speak, they looked at each other and asked, in unison, "Have you seen it?"
"What species is that?"
They froze, rummaging through decades of memory for a match—and found not even a feather.
"It can only be from the Dark Continent," Netero said at last. "If the known world has no analog, it's either from there—or some untouched ruin."
Zeno frowned. "Impossible. Even thinking it—if the old man hears—he'll break the kid's legs."
Thanks to Grandpa Zigg, "Dark Continent" had become a Zoldyck taboo.
Unless—
He thought of something, and his voice trailed off. "…Unless the 'game' this kid's playing isn't the same 'version' as the one Silva and I played…"
Netero's eyebrow ticked. He knew the shape of it. "The old man let him inside Zigg?"
Zeno said nothing.
Netero thought, as expected. The giant golden bird made sense.
He watched Roy disappear under the few cameras still clinging to life, watched the bird fold itself down—shrink to a fat crow with a golden cowlick—perch on the boy's head. "Re: Game of the Dead isn't just a game," he sighed. "Whether Zigg is dead or not, the old man may not even know."
"And Roy? The old man probably marked him long ago. If the 'version' isn't yours and Silva's, that's no surprise. After all…"
Humanity's strongest murmured, threading wistfulness through his tone, "He always was a wild one."
"ZZZT—" The feed died completely.
The training room sank back into quiet. Bean curled its toes, stuck between them, not daring to breathe. To flee or to stay? In the end, it played statue.
"Vvmmm—" The rotors chewed the air; the airship drifted closer to the venue.
At the Kiriko den, the lake's heart:
The gilt giant shrank to the cowlicked crow and flopped onto Roy's head. He exhaled—and drew his Nen back in.
The tide of red sank, revealing ten li of scorched forest and a bare lakebed.
"Master…" Gotoh's voice floated from shore.
He slid his glasses up and rushed over, Kuraging trailing, still shaken.
So this is Nen… this is what a Nen user is…
If she had this strength, the Kurta could step into the world and no one would dare covet them.
She couldn't help the thought, and hurried to catch up.
A breeze washed over them as Roy's Nen returned inside. His body went hollow. Knees buckled; he clutched Gotoh's shoulder.
His panel blinked:
[Warning: Nen overused, immediate replenishment required.]
[Nen Beast interface unlocked.]
[Three-Legged Golden Crow (Name pending)]
Status: Hatchling (100/100000)
Rank: S+
Manifest Nen: D+ (964/10000)
Potential Nen: ?
Racial Gifts: Chasing the Sun (locked)… Sovereign of Solar Flame Lv1 (25/1000)… Sun-Chariot (locked)
Assessment: Growth-type Nen Beast, limitless potential.
…
'Limitless potential', huh—so that's why it nearly sucked me dry?
Roy leaned against Gotoh, caught his breath, and rubbed the crow's head. "We'll call you Gold-chan. Sound good?"
The golden lump pecked his finger, annoyed.
Roy decided: "Gold-chan, it is."
Peck. Another jab to the scalp.
Kuraging hid her smile behind her hand.
~~~
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