"Whoosh—"
The boundless Cognition Sea churned with waves.
Several doors stood in a neat row across the surface—some fully formed, some half-formed, and some nothing more than faint points of light stretching all the way to the line where sky met water…
Roy rolled up his pant legs and let the surf wash over his feet. He strolled to the Demon Slayer door, turned his back to the now-closed Naruto door, and looked up at the Dark Continent door—black as ink. Beyond it lay another world: his enemies, and the answers he had to find if he wanted to keep living.
"Tick…"
The Curse on the back of his left hand kept stubbornly counting his life down.
That dream of his great-grandfather's nation going to the grave with him felt like yesterday. Roy took a slow breath, reached out, and traced the door's intricate patterns with his palm—until a sudden tug in his chest snapped his thoughts in two, along with two distant calls.
He followed the source of that tug—it came from the dream corridor leading to reality.
[Notice: Your humble and devout "potential follower" Vanessa · Siren, grateful for the "gifted music," offers prayers and asks to be made official…]
[Notice: Your humble and devout "potential follower" Koller · Spencer, grateful for the "gifted method," offers prayers and asks to be made official…]
Faces formed in his mind: the snake-woman and the dog-headed elder. It hadn't been long, but it felt like several seasons had passed.
Roy inhaled, steadied the rise and fall in his chest, and—unlike usual—didn't immediately walk the corridor back to reality.
Instead, he summoned the power he'd taken from Enmu and fused into his own Nen:
The Generalized Dream Gate.
He stepped forward.
A doorway bloomed in the void, and he vanished into it.
A temple rose. Clouds and mist gathered.
He sat above the cloudline beneath a blazing sun, then lifted a finger and tapped twice toward a drifting, endless bed of cloud.
A dream vortex opened, and a voice—stern, heavy with authority—rolled out through it…
On the Dark Continent's eastern shore, in the hot-spring nation of Valentia—the "Pure City"—in that unremarkable bathhouse on Water-Orchid Lane, Seventh Street…
And in the northern frontier, within the Howling Moon Wolf King's territory, in the dog-folk settlement by Bonebreaker Gorge—inside that small, remote village…
A snake-woman and an old dog froze.
And then, faintly, they heard:
"Tomorrow night, ten o'clock. You are permitted to present yourselves."
Vanessa and old Koller returned to themselves, pressed a hand to their chest, and bowed.
"Praise the Sun."
Even with their heads lowered, their excitement and anticipation were obvious.
"Humm…"
The dream vortex opened—and closed.
Their familiar-yet-strange faces flickered in the afterimage.
Roy sat beneath the sun. He saw that one of them had her tail's "poison" completely purged, and the other looked robust again, no longer frail and aged. He narrowed his eyes, dismissed the Generalized Dream Gate with a wave—
Then stepped into the familiar dream corridor.
When he opened his eyes again…
He was back in the Hunter world—back in the Zoldyck family's familiar castle, on that familiar soft bed.
"Dong…"
At 4 a.m., the wooden clock in the corner struck—the signal for his morning run.
Roy rolled out of bed, pulled on a tank top, slipped into running shoes, tied the laces, and went out like always—
Through the snoring of a chubby little brother already drifting toward his "original canon piggy" build…
Through the obsessive routine of a deadpan little brother in front of the mirror, changing his face again and again until he looked like "Nii-san"…
Roy shut the door behind him, turned the corner, crossed the weathered corridors, passed the dim little room and bowed once, then stepped out the front gates into the crisp early-summer wind and plunged into Kukuroo Mountain.
"Slow is fast. Fast is slow."
With his Physique nearly pressing up against the 1000 mark, Roy could finish an up-and-down run in under five minutes if he wanted.
But he didn't.
He kept a normal breathing rhythm and an unhurried cadence—partly to run, partly to take in the scenery, and mostly…
For the band of dawn rising at the horizon.
The sun—warm, life-giving.
"Child… are you ready to become the sun in someone else's heart?"
His great-grandfather's question echoed in his ears as the green blur of trees swept past.
He crested the top, reached the mountain road, and passed the butler villa—lit up and bustling. Butlers moving, chefs prepping food, trainees working out—an ordinary, lived-in warmth.
Roy smiled and moved again.
When he looked up, he was already at the mountain gate. And today, compared to usual…
It felt a bit busier.
Roy slowed. From afar, he nodded once to Gatekeeper—who removed his hat and bowed—then shifted his gaze to the tall man beside him.
"Your mother's close to giving birth," Silva said, unusually present at the Trial Gates. "I've scheduled a doctor. Today we'll go pick her up."
It was 1987—the year Gon and Killua were born.
Just yesterday, Gotoh told him Killua's due date was within days. Gon was older than Killua, so…
Gold probably already had his baby in his arms.
Roy's thoughts flashed to the cold-faced woman he'd seen in Ging's heart.
He gave a silent nod. "It's better if you go yourself, Father."
Kikyo was far too invested in this pregnancy—bordering on obsession. If something went wrong…
Roy didn't want to imagine what she'd become.
"Mm." Silva grunted and said no more.
He glanced sideways. Roy seemed to have grown again in a single day. After a pause, Silva said, "I heard you can already open five."
Roy looked up at the towering Trial Gate—symbol of the Zoldycks' weight in the assassin world. He neither confirmed nor denied, only said plainly, "That was before."
"I thought you'd know," Silva replied.
Then he stepped forward, placed a palm on the gate, and with a single, casual shove—
"Boom—!"
The sixth Trial Gate moved.
Light flooded in like a pillar, framing Silva's figure in hard brilliance—tall and imposing.
Silva braced the gate and looked back. "Try."
Roy exhaled, stepped up, rolled up his sleeves, and replaced Silva's hands with his own. He planted both palms, and when Silva released—
The weight hit him like a mountain.
Too heavy.
His bones complained.
His muscles trembled.
His elbows wanted to buckle and surrender.
But he'd taken it—so he went all in.
He activated Sun Breathing.
Sun Breathing—Total Concentration: Constant!
He lifted his core, flared his nostrils, and dragged in one brutal breath of the dawn beyond the gate.
"Thump—" his heart slammed.
His temperature surged.
His entire presence changed in an instant.
He growled, "Open!"
"BOOM!"
The sixth gate—about to close—was blasted open by sheer force.
The gap widened… and widened… until it could swallow both father and son whole.
Silva stood in the dawn's warmth and watched Roy, eyes carrying a quiet, sharpened expectancy—something like anticipation, something like the thrill of a fight.
"Good," Silva said, hands slipping into his pockets as he walked out.
"Boom—!" Without Roy's support, the gate began to fall shut again.
As it closed, Roy saw Silva slip into a black car.
Steam rose faintly from Roy's skin. He asked, "How far do I have to go before I surpass you?"
The car rolled off with exhaust and one drifting answer:
"When you can open seven with one hand—easily."
One hand. Seven gates. That was far more than "double the Physique."
Roy let the constant breathing go and exhaled.
The gates slammed shut, sealing away the last strip of dawnlight. He turned—
And found Zeno there.
White hair, drifting in the still forest air. The shadows wriggled and he stepped out of them like a ghost.
He walked down the mountain road, "Body Flicker" blooming under his feet in playful, impossible rhythm—blink, blink, blink—closing hundreds of meters in a handful of breaths.
"You really didn't need to poke him," Zeno teased, looking up at Roy. "You think I'll live to see you actually cut your father in a year?"
"One year isn't long."
He'd clearly heard the "one-year pact."
"Who knows?" Roy said honestly. "Right now, I definitely can't."
"But in a year…"
Roy met his gaze. "If I really manage to injure Father, you're not allowed to feel sorry for him."
Zeno: "…"
He stared for two seconds, then burst into a low laugh.
"Ha… hah…"
Then he lifted one hand and patted the gate—
"Boom!"
All seven Trial Gates swung open.
Zeno slipped into the light like a drifting leaf, vanishing with one last chuckle:
"If you've got the skill to actually beat him to death…"
"…maybe I'd stop you. Heh heh."
"Boom—" the gates closed again, swallowing the laughter.
Gotoh bowed at the gate. "Master, safe travels."
Roy stood there replaying the casual "one-hand" gate strike in his head, then turned and walked.
Zeno killed someone every day.
Roy had people to kill too.
Ninja war, Demon Slayer's Muzan, the Dark Continent—none of it felt stable anymore.
"Busy is good… busy is good…"
A few minutes later, when Roy returned to the castle and passed the dim room again, Maha sat in a white tank top and loose shorts, listening to an anime and rocking in his chair. He turned over, blew a snot bubble, and fell right back asleep.
Soft snoring, and faint cicadas, filled the air.
Before five, Roy was back in his room. He showered, sat at the table—
And right on time:
Clink— Gotoh pushed in the breakfast cart and lifted the lids.
Bacon. Eggs fried in butter. A massive salad. And a bowl of tomato-and-egg soup.
Not quite Western, not quite Eastern—perfectly "Zoldyck," and perfectly "Roy."
"Master," Gotoh said, "Ging Freecss called."
"He said his son—Gon—was born not long ago."
Gotoh cut Roy's bacon with knife and fork as he spoke. "He asked when you'll come by Greed Island to gather, and to leave some 'methods' behind."
Roy shoveled a spoonful of eggs into his mouth, reached for Silva's game guide, and flipped it open without looking up.
"Tell him I don't have time."
Killua was due any day. The Third Ninja War needed his attention. Tanjiro's father's illness. The Dark Continent.
None of it waited.
"And Chairman?" Gotoh asked.
"Who?"
"Netero," Gotoh said, pushing up his glasses. "I heard… he's coming."
~~~
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