Only when you're stuck in the mire do you start longing for the sky.
Only when you're trapped in darkness do you start longing for light.
Little Maddy was dead. Nora was dead. Old Mark was dead… their family was finally reunited, and yet—
Roy couldn't feel happy at all.
A sliver of madness, three parts bloodlust, five parts rage, seven parts frenzy, ten parts killing intent—coalesced into three terrifying, pitch-black tomoe that crawled up the edges of his eyes.
In that moment, the boy wanted to eat someone alive—like that beastly lion-tiger earlier—tear Andrew Cooper apart with his teeth.
The last shred of reason left in his heart vanished completely as Ferocity ignited.
Roy stared with blood-red Sharingan eyes, cold enough to freeze the world.
"Caw—caw."
A crow suddenly flew in from the treetops. It flapped once, dropping a black feather.
The instant Andrew Cooper and the bald shieldman Longorg met the boy's cannibal, abyssal gaze, their vision blurred—then snapped into something else entirely.
Trees vanished. Rocks vanished. Birdsong, beasts, even the wind that threaded through the forest—gone. The clouds in the sky—gone. Even the sun that spilled light across the land—gone.
Andrew's smile disappeared. He exchanged a quick look with Longorg.
In the span of a heartbeat, the ground beneath them had become a different world.
Everything here was blood-red. Even the great sun above Roy's head—something that should have been light—was soaked in killing intent, forced into a crimson shroud, becoming a blood sun.
"Mind pollution?"
"Or soul corrosion?"
Andrew's expression hardened as he raised his hand-crossbow. Unlike Frank Becky's Infinite Divine Gun, this Nen tool was built for rapid firing and amplification—perfect for a Nen user who specialized in archery.
Longorg barked, shield at the ready. "Stop with the spooky tricks. I'm covering you—shoot him!"
With Parryback in hand, Longorg was "absolute defense." That was the confidence he placed in his conjured round shield.
"Good." Andrew didn't waste a syllable. Before Longorg even finished speaking, Andrew's Nen surged and he pulled the trigger.
One arm… two… three… four… eight.
In an instant he grotesquely mutated—eight arms, and the hand-crossbow split into eight copies with them.
"Mi… mi… mi…"
A full volley—eight directions—ripped the air and screamed toward Roy.
This was Andrew Cooper's Nen ability in full bloom: Malformed Hundred-Armed Demon—a pure transformation that barely resembled a human anymore.
"So that's it."
"Of course."
"Because you were never human to begin with—so you can't empathize with humans."
Roy lowered his lashes and smiled, a ghastly, twisted grin.
A patch of marsh appeared under his feet.
He vanished—dodging every arrow—then reappeared right in front of Andrew, behind the bald giant Longorg.
"Huh?" Longorg let out a startled sound.
He'd first assumed the boy was a sword-type fighter—maybe Enhancement. Then Roy hit them with mind-warping hallucinations—maybe Manipulation. Then the swamp appeared—Swamp Space—
Longorg spun and slammed his shield down.
"Specialist!"
BANG!
The shield hit dead center.
It smashed "Andrew Roy" so hard his head split and blood sprayed.
The strike was savage. Longorg was a Conjurer, yet he displayed power that didn't lose to Enhancers.
Roy stared at him once—then exploded with a pop.
A substitution.
Using the Substitution Technique he'd learned at the Academy, Roy slipped past the shield in the gap created by Longorg's turn and tapped a finger to Longorg's forehead.
Illusion Art: Infinite Void.
"Hmmm—"
A soundless wave spread out.
A door cracked open.
Roy stood on the shore of his Cognition Sea, backed by the entire Demon Slayer world—then, with a flick of his finger, compressed that world into 0.01 seconds worth of pure "worldview" and poured it straight into Longorg's brain.
Longorg felt something detonate inside his skull.
His body locked up. His pupils lost focus.
"Longorg! What the hell are you doing?!"
More Nen arrows—this time wrapped in Shu—shot toward Roy in another rapid volley.
Up close, instant firing was even easier. Andrew frowned at the "frozen" Longorg. Without the shieldman's protection, he tasted danger for the first time. He retreated, trying to create distance while the arrows boxed Roy in.
Too bad—
"Who do you think you are?"
"And where do you think you are?"
The illusion spread underfoot.
"Caw—"
Another crow.
Roy, eyes burning red, didn't dodge. He let the arrows pass through him like ripples in water.
Then he reached out toward Andrew—indifferent, almost bored.
Andrew's mind screamed at his body to back away, but his legs betrayed him, walking him forward.
Step after step, straight into Roy—
until their bodies overlapped completely.
Andrew's eyes tilted sideways, the first real fear blooming across his face.
He watched—horrified—as his neck split, and a second "Andrew" forced itself out of him, arms wrapping around his head.
It whispered, raving:
"Nice head… your scalp must be so white… so smooth…"
"I wonder how popular it'd be if I peeled your skin off and turned you into a chamber pot…"
Andrew's face went gray. He roared, "GET OUT! Get out of my body!"
He swung with four arms—forgetting the crossbow—and hammered his fists toward Roy.
Roy sounded almost… wounded.
"You're me. I'm you."
"Why are you being shy with yourself?"
Wood Release: Smothering Binding Technique—activate!
Andrew's fists froze mid-swing.
He couldn't move.
He looked down—vines had erupted from nowhere, coiling up and locking him in place. Total restraint. No resistance left—only a mouth and a pair of eyes wide with disbelief and panic.
One… two… three… four… five!
Andrew's mind was burning out. He'd lost count of how many different "abilities" Roy had shown. His worldview was collapsing.
"Good. That's exactly right."
Roy's En surged. With no interference now, the Heart Worm pierced Andrew's aura and burrowed into his heart. It instantly caught the man's terror and despair and greedily devoured it—then, as if still hungry, it muttered for Roy to push harder.
Roy's blood-red eyes glowed as he stroked Andrew's head, nodding seriously like he agreed.
Then he summoned Eclipse—
and right in front of Andrew, he began peeling his skin.
"Y-You… I'm warning you—don't do this!"
"I'm security corps!"
"So what?"
"So—so what?! I'm telling you, blasphemer—let me go! Maybe I'll plead for you, maybe I'll spare your life… maybe I'll even reward you with an entry permit!"
"Then I'll thank you in advance."
Roy drew Eclipse with a clean metallic ring and sliced open Andrew's scalp.
"AAAAAH—!"
A scream that tore the forest apart.
Blood sprayed, splattering across Roy's face.
Roy stuck out his tongue and licked it.
Sweet.
Very sweet.
He lifted his hand again and cut, giggling softly.
"You said I'm a blasphemer, right?"
"Then…"
"I've already blasphemed God."
"One more person won't make a difference."
Slice after slice—another strip of scalp came free.
Again. Again. Again.
Roy lost all reason.
Like the lion-tiger beast that had been chewing Nora, Roy used the illusion space to repeat it—peeling, flaying, extracting, "maintaining" Andrew's consciousness so he could experience the pain again and again.
Once. Twice. Three times.
Ten. Twenty. Thirty.
Seventy. A hundred.
Until Andrew's mind went blank like Longorg's—his brain finally collapsed, unable to process his body anymore—
BOOM!
His head detonated.
Only then did Roy wipe the blood from his face, exit Ferocity, dismiss the illusion space, and—one blade each—decapitate both Andrew and Longorg.
[Life Energy +50]
[Life Energy +57]
The headless bodies fell from the massive trunk with a heavy thud.
Roy heard the panel chime. His gaze cleared.
He lifted Andrew's hip flask into his hand and looked down from above, red light gathering in his eyes—
Two scorching beams lanced out and melted what was left of Andrew and Longorg completely, erasing every trace.
Only then did he open the flask.
Three translucent spirits drifted out slowly.
"Thank you…"
A soft whisper, heavy with gratitude.
Old Mark and Nora stood there—between them, a little girl with straw-colored hair held their hands.
They bowed to Roy.
Before Roy could even react, the three of them turned into streaks of light and sank into his body.
A bleak wind rose, and the Uzuki Forest fell silent.
Andrew was gone. Longorg was gone. Mark was gone. Nora was gone.
Only Roy remained, eyes closed, absorbing their joy and grief, their lives and deaths.
And the system prompts kept ringing in his mind:
[Life Energy +8] — Mark
[Life Energy +7] — Little Maddy
[Life Energy +120] — Nora, whose hope shattered and who fell into post-mortem Nen
Roy breathed and felt it all.
For an instant he became "him," "her," "her"—and it was like he aged ten years, twenty years, in a blink.
He kept his eyes closed for a long, long time.
In his unconscious domain, Little Maddy waved at him as she faded away.
"Thank you… big brother…"
Her eyes were bright—yet she held no attachment to this world at all.
Roy stayed silent for a long time.
Then—
"So, kid… what do you want?"
"Me? Of course I want to be a light that gives people hope…"
Roy's eyes snapped open, cold and sharp, gripping his blade.
"But before that—let this world learn what pain feels like first."
He still wore Andrew Cooper's face.
Through the deep forest he stared toward Bandel City, now not far away.
Then the game prompt chimed:
re: Game of the Dead — closing.
His vision dimmed.
Time was up.
When Roy opened his eyes again, he was back in the Hunter world.
A tentacle from the Demon Eye pushed him out.
The airtight steel door slammed shut behind him.
In the dim basement, yellow chrysanthemums bloomed brilliantly.
Their faint fragrance spiraled into Roy's nose on a draft.
He inhaled greedily—finally finding something real.
Silent, he glanced once at the airtight door.
Then he turned and walked down the green-lit corridor toward the exit.
The iron-bar gate opened.
The scar-faced, one-eyed guards bowed on both sides.
"Two hours and thirty-seven minutes," one reported.
"You stayed half an hour longer than last time, Young Master…"
Roy stepped out, paused, lifted his chin slightly, and looked at the sun sinking toward the horizon.
He gave a quiet "Mm," said nothing else, and walked away—his silhouette oddly lonely as it left the basement behind.
Footsteps faded.
The one-eyed guards exchanged a look. As usual, one pulled out a phone and reported upward.
"Understood."
In the Zoldyck estate's second-floor bedroom, Silva was crouched by the window massaging Kikyo's feet. He frowned as he hung up.
Kikyo lay on the bed with her huge belly, watched by an experienced doctor. According to her, the waters would break within a day or two.
Very soon.
"Soon?" Kikyo hummed. "You mean Killua?"
Silva nodded silently.
Killua… and Roy too.
This time, Roy had stayed half an hour longer.
The boy's growth rate was absurd—already far beyond Silva and even their father, at least at this stage.
Silva had to admit it: he couldn't last that long back then.
"Fast? I've been waiting ten months…" Kikyo cradled her belly, the monitor on her face flashing hearts and softness—pure, glowing happiness.
A happiness Little Maddy would never know. Never get the chance to know.
At seven in the evening, with the days growing longer into early summer, the castle corridors were bright even without lamps.
Roy left the basement and headed for his room.
At one point he stopped beside that familiar dim little room and saw a dry, wiry old man there.
As if he was enjoying the breeze. As if he was admiring the sunset.
As if he'd been waiting for Roy.
He glanced over and said, "Come here."
"Let this old man feel your head."
~~~
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