"I've been waiting for you."
The voice emerged without force, as if it had always belonged to the place itself. Meruem stopped instantly. His body reacted before his mind. Almost instinctively, he released his Nen, spreading it over a limited area—precise, restrained, controlled. Enough to read the surroundings without provoking hostility.
Yet something was wrong.
His En felt thinner. Narrower. Less overwhelming than it once was. As though a part of his power had been deliberately taken away.
Standing before them was a man with his hands in his pockets, posture relaxed, eyes sharp and strangely amused.
"So it really is you," the man continued.
"The King of the Chimera Ants."
Before Meruem could move, the ground trembled.
An invisible point pierced through the earth at absurd speed, erupted beneath his feet, and struck him head-on. The blow was neither brutal nor destructive—but it was precise enough to send him flying backward, his body spinning through the air before crashing heavily into the ground.
The narrator intervenes here—not to dramatize the moment, but to reveal its truth:
Meruem had seen the attack.
He had understood it completely.
And yet, he had willingly allowed it to strike him.
Not out of weakness.
But as a silent declaration.
He no longer wished to fight.
"MY KING!"
Komugi dropped everything and ran toward him without understanding what had happened. The Gungi board slipped from her hands, the pieces scattering across the grass with a dry, chaotic sound—like a game violently interrupted by reality.
She knelt beside him, trembling.
Meruem slowly rose to his feet. No blood. No serious injury. He placed a hand on Komugi's shoulder, his touch unexpectedly gentle.
"Do not be afraid," he said calmly. "I am unharmed."
Then he turned his gaze toward the man.
"What do you want from us?"
His voice still carried authority, but something fundamental had shifted. It no longer crushed the air with certainty. It was firm—yet human.
"We are no longer driven by the desire to conquer this world," Meruem continued.
"We merely wish to be left alone."
The narrator quietly notes something Meruem himself did not yet realize:
Without knowing it, Meruem still spoke as a king referring to his royal territory.
Yet when he turned toward Komugi, he no longer said "the King."
He said "I."
The man let out a small, weary smile.
"Yes… I know."
He glanced aside, as if recalling a distant scene.
"But you see, I watched you kill that man in the alley."
"It is in your nature to kill."
"And you need human flesh—not merely for nourishment."
Meruem remained silent for a moment.
Then, in a calm, even voice:
"No."
"Since our transformation, we no longer feel that desire."
He paused briefly.
"Human flesh no longer attracts us."
The narrator intervenes again, almost clinically:
After his transformation, Meruem had undergone a profound mutation.
He was now different from humans only in a few details.
His metabolism had changed.
More disturbingly—he had developed a sense of revulsion at the very idea of consuming human flesh.
Komugi understood none of this. The words passed through her without meaning. She only felt the tension, the invisible threat, and the strange discomfort settling in the air. She stayed close to Meruem, her fingers gripping his sleeve as if anchoring herself to the only certainty she had left.
"We are no longer a king," Meruem said.
He lifted his head slightly.
"We are simply Meruem."
Then, placing emphasis on each syllable:
"I am Meruem."
The man scratched the back of his head and sighed.
"Ah…"
"I see."
He looked up again, this time more serious.
"I have to admit, I expected this."
"If you hadn't changed…"
"I wouldn't have had a choice. I would've been forced to kill you."
"I would have defended myself," Meruem replied without anger.
"To remain with Komugi."
"And I would not have hesitated to kill you as well."
Another sigh.
"Alright… alright. I get it."
His gaze dropped to the ground. The small package Meruem had been carrying lay nearby. The Gungi board was broken, its pieces scattered between grass and soil.
"I have a deal to offer you, Meruem."
He gestured toward Komugi.
"If this girl defeats me at Gungi…"
"I will leave you alone."
"And in return…"
His tone shifted. Became solemn.
"I will give you information about your origin."
The words struck Meruem harder than the blow earlier.
For a brief instant, his thoughts fractured.
A strange sensation flooded his chest—something unfamiliar, heavy, deeply human. That inexplicable pull one feels toward their beginnings. That need to understand where one comes from. That silent attachment to an origin never chosen, yet impossible to ignore.
Fragments of memory surfaced. Instincts without names. A lineage born of violence and design. And beneath it all, a quiet question that had never been asked aloud.
What am I… truly?
The man continued:
"Information you were never meant to have."
"Information that could change the way you see yourself."
Silence.
"But if she loses…"
"Then unfortunately—you die."
Meruem did not look away.
"That is acceptable."
Komugi slowly lifted her head. She still did not understand the meaning of the exchange. But she understood one thing—the king trusted her. Completely.
Her trembling ceased.
She picked up a Gungi piece.
"Then…" she said softly, her voice steady despite the weight of the moment,
"Let us play."
Without knowing it, she had just stepped into the most important match of their lives.
And somewhere, unseen, the world itself seemed to hold its breath.