(Good grief... can't the old man act his age and stay quiet for once?)
Zeno Zoldyck, the world's premier assassin hired solely for transportation, let out an exasperated sigh at his "younger" senior, who had already vanished from sight.
(Still, that was a sight to behold. To think he could perfectly neutralize that many high-quality targets so quickly.)
Zeno looked back. Behind him, the Chimera Ant army lay scattered across the wasteland, incapacitated to the last man. Despite the heavy casualties in terms of combat capability, not a single life had been taken. Netero had balanced perfect restraint with the speed necessary to end the skirmish instantly.
"Father, I've checked. No one is getting back up anytime soon. Our job is done—let's move out."
"I didn't work nearly hard enough for the fee I'm charging, but I suppose it'll do. Tell me, Silva, what did you think of seeing the Association's strongest in the flesh?"
"...It's more than just a bad deal," Silva replied, his voice low. "At worst, we might have to stake the entire Zoldyck family name to survive an encounter with him."
"Hmph. I feel the same. How the hell is that old man still getting stronger?"
The two Zoldycks, among the few survivors to have ever seen Netero in his actual prime, began to walk. Zeno spoke of the differences between the Netero of old and the Netero of today with a strange sort of amusement. While he noted that Netero's aura and physical stats had technically declined from his peak, he grimaced at the fact that his mastery had reached such a transcendent level that he was actually more dangerous now.
Silva gave a wry smile as Zeno regaled him with stories only old men remember, but then his gaze drifted toward another part of the battlefield, his brow furrowing.
"Worried about Killua? You've always been overprotective," Zeno teased.
"I don't want to hear that from you. ...Honestly, when I saw those Chimera Ants, I considered following Kil to back him up."
"I don't blame you. They're undeniably dangerous."
"But more than that," Silva continued, "I couldn't take my eyes off Kil as he is now."
"I completely agree."
In the eighteen months since they had last seen him, the fledgling had left the nest and taken flight. They didn't think they would lose to him yet, but they had to admit there was a very real possibility of him catching them off guard.
"It was worth enduring your wife's tantrums to kick him out. I never expected such ideal growth."
"He was blessed with good teachers," Silva noted. "We could have taken him to that level of power, but we couldn't have made him grow like that. And then there's..."
"Hm?"
"No... regardless, I don't think he'll die today. Let's go home and wait for the news."
Silva left his thought unfinished. He had seen something that Zeno—who was focused entirely on Netero—had missed.
(That boy... Gon. What exactly is he?)
Surrounded by a shimmering son, a terrifying clown, and a martial god, Gon had appeared at first glance to be just a boy with high-quality aura. But Silva's instincts—the pinnacle of the Zoldyck physical condition—were screaming at him.
(It's not about being caught off guard. He might simply swallow me whole.)
As an assassin, Silva possessed the "heart of the weak"—the essential trait of never underestimating an opponent. He was at the top of the world's elite, which was exactly why his experience told him that there was always a higher peak.
(The risk is too high. But if I ever have to face him... as long as it isn't a head-on fight, I won't fail.)
Silva was an assassin; he was confident that as long as he didn't play by the rules of a duel, he would succeed. He did not yet know the meaning of the two walls standing in his way: a multi-talented freak and an assassin whose talent surpassed his own.
***
As the distance closed, Isaac Netero couldn't help but be impressed by the scene before him.
(I didn't expect it to be this one-sided. The King is at the very top of my projections.)
Netero's long-range Guanyin strike from atop the Nen dragon had left Meruem unscathed. The King wasn't even on guard; he was simply waiting. Netero landed and looked at the evolved King, whose aura was roiling with even more intensity than their last encounter. Netero's grin deepened as he turned to the battered Gon.
"Tagging in. Any objections?"
"I hate to admit it, but no. I'm backing off for a bit."
Netero was suspicious of how easily Gon agreed—as if he were certain he'd have another turn—but he kept his eyes on Meruem and waited for Gon to finish his warning.
"If Meruem bites you, he'll steal your aura and your memories. Aside from that, he's a superior version of me. He can also turn his Nen into shields and use them as platforms. ...I'm going to focus for a bit, so I can't provide backup. Sorry!"
Having said his piece, Gon turned and sprinted to a safe distance, immediately sitting down to meditate. Despite being covered in wounds, he radiated an intense, excited energy.
"No composure at all, that one," Netero mused. "Well then. Sorry to keep you waiting. It's my turn now."
"Ordinarily, making a King wait is a capital offense," Meruem replied. "But I required time to recover as well, so I shall permit it. Besides, the order is irrelevant. I shall collect you both."
They stared each other down. Netero processed Gon's warning while Meruem analyzed the attack he had just taken.
(A superior version of Gon, eh? This is going to be a workout. My blood is pumping! ♪)
(He has high-quality flesh, but he is old. Based on that last attack, he is a technical specialist who relies on his ability.)
In a split second, they ran through thousands of simulations. Then, they began a battle of "highly flexible adaptation"—a phrase that sounded simple, but in practice involved a level of experience and processing power that defied common sense.
Hundred-Type Guanyin: 1st Palm.
Netero took the initiative with a god-speed strike. In a world where time had stopped, Meruem envisioned the thousand-armed goddess as the prayer was completed. The Guanyin's hand slammed down, driving the King into the dirt.
Hundred-Type Guanyin: 50th Palm.
Knowing he had no room for error, Netero didn't test the waters. He followed up immediately with a heavy, two-handed strike directed at the point of impact.
Hundred-Type Guanyin: 99th Palm.
Even as the dust rose and obscured his vision, Netero tracked Meruem's presence. He unleashed a merciless barrage, hammering the entire area with a storm of strikes meant to end the fight then and there.
Against any other elite, those three consecutive moves would have left nothing but dust. But Meruem, utilizing his superior physique and his customized King Shield, endured the onslaught with nearly zero damage.
"Kaa!"
"Mmuh?!"
Hundred-Type Guanyin: 2nd Palm.
Meruem burst from the dust in a counter-charge, but Netero's prayer was faster. He was swatted away just as he reached striking distance.
(He's fast! But the hits are light!!)
Meruem began to move three-dimensionally, using his King Shields in mid-air as stepping stones. He attacked from every conceivable angle at a speed that made it look like he was everywhere at once. Netero tracked the movement that had overwhelmed Gon, choosing the optimal Guanyin palms to counter every single lunge.
In the span of a few seconds, over a thousand blows were exchanged, creating a continuous fountain of sparks between them. Amidst that blooming fire, the struggle between vast experience and overwhelming intellect reached a crescendo.
Meruem, constantly evolving his tactics, finally found the opening.
(I've read you!!)
Meruem grasped the one singular path to victory from tens of thousands of attack lines. He committed to a fatal strike meant to end the duel—
Hundred-Type Guanyin: Light Form — 3rd Palm.
For the first time, a strike landed without the prerequisite prayer. The "Light Form" caught Meruem completely off guard, slamming into his side.
Hundred-Type Guanyin: Heavy Form — 50th Palm.
Taking advantage of Meruem's moment of frozen shock, Netero completed a long, focused prayer. He unleashed the heaviest blow of the day, creating a crater so large it swallowed the landscape around the King.
(That felt right. Did I finally draw blood?)
Netero watched the smoke-filled crater warily. He knew this wasn't the end. Sure enough, a wounded Meruem leaped from the pit, wiping blood from his lip as he faced Netero again.
"That was a magnificent strike. But the true beauty was the sequence leading up to it. A perfect tactical flow that left me no room for evasion or defense... truly, it is art."
Meruem was covered in bruises and abrasions, but his footing was steady. He was far from finished. Had Gon not cracked his exoskeleton earlier, the damage would have been even lighter, but compared to the power Meruem had gained from consuming Gon's aura, it was a negligible trade.
"Good grief. If that's all the damage you take from a Heavy Fifty, even the Zero Hand might not be enough. This is troublesome."
Netero rolled his shoulders, then glanced over at Gon, who remained in deep meditation, ignoring the world-shattering battle nearby. Netero gave a half-amused, half-annoyed sigh, then turned back to Meruem with a bow of gratitude.
"To think I'd get to face the 'Future Gon' himself. Meruem, you have my deepest thanks."
Hundred-Type Guanyin: Prayer Form — The True Statue.
As Meruem frowned at the sincere gratitude, Netero stepped back and offered a prayer to all of creation. His body began to glow, and a semi-transparent, giant Guanyin lifted him into the air on its palm. To a layman, it looked like simple levitation, but to Meruem, the appearance of a massive aura construct right in front of him was an immediate threat.
"From here on, I will be your opponent!"
Meruem realized what was happening—the Nen construct took the form of a rejuvenated Netero. However, his eyes were drawn to the actual Netero, who sat isolated and defenseless, like the King in a Kokorikoformation.
"That's a bad move, King."
The prime-self asura seized the opening that even a top-tier Hunter might have missed.
"One Bone!!"
"Nguh?!"
It was a simple straight punch. But it was a punch thrown by a Netero who had devoted his entire existence to the martial arts. The strike pulverized the King Shield Meruem manifested at the last second and allowed the energy to permeate Meruem's body, dealing devastating internal damage.
"Hah!!"
Unlike Gon or Meruem, who tended to blow opponents away, Netero's strikes kept the target in place, allowing for a relentless follow-up. The roles were reversed; Netero was the hunter, and Meruem the prey. The exchange created a single, blinding pillar of sparks.
(He can still parry me after all that?!)
The Heavy Form and the One Bone had dealt significant damage, but Meruem continued to survive the onslaught by the thinnest of margins. He had no room to counter-attack, but through his supernatural intellect and King Shield, he was preventing the final mate.
(Fine. If you want a stalemate, I'll play until you break!)
Netero abandoned the idea of a quick win, focusing entirely on keeping Meruem trapped. He rained down blows with enough force to kill, giving the King no time to recover.
(As expected of the pinnacle of humanity. I cannot find a way out of this flow!)
Meruem felt a sense of despair similar to being caught in a stalemate by Komugi. He dug his heels in at the edge of the abyss, struggling to find a glimmer of hope.
Netero was determined not to stop until the conclusion—but his choice to prolong the fight allowed an unexpected factor to arrive.
"LORD MERUEM!!!"
"Mmuh?!"
Shaiapouf and Menthuthuyoupi, having met up and sprinted at supersonic speeds, arrived on the scene. They ignored the possibility of Meruem's displeasure and launched a simultaneous attack on the defenseless Netero.
"Tch!"
Netero reacted just in time to protect his physical body. He looked at Meruem, who—despite the opening—had not moved to strike.
"My apologies, Lord Meruem. I will not ask forgiveness for my overstepping. I will accept whatever punishment you deem fit."
"Lord Meruem... I... I lost my fight!!"
"...It is fine. You saved me, that is a fact. I shall accept your loyalty."
Meruem's pride prevented him from taking advantage of the distraction. He simply looked down at the prostrate Pouf and Youpi. Netero was shocked that they had made it back after being sent so far away, but he felt a wave of relief knowing Morel's team and Killua must have been victorious.
"Take everything! We offer these pathetic lives to your majesty!!"
"...I permit it. You have served me well, in this life and the next."
Netero was speechless as he watched the exchange. Pouf's body began to disintegrate into microscopic particles. Youpi's body lost its form, melting into a liquid state. They had transformed themselves into a state that was easy to consume and absorb—a state from which they could never return. Meruem consumed them both, using his mouth and his tail's stinger.
"...Light as air, yet with a scent and sweetness so dense... truly, the Mist of a Lost Paradise."
In the moment of his consumption, Shaiapouf reached the pinnacle of his ecstasy. His awakened aura became a part of Meruem's very being.
"...Heavier than any metal, with a richness and fulfillment surpassing all else... the Drops of a Fallen Star."
Menthuthuyoupi, too, radiated a final brilliance. Once he was absorbed, a portion of his mass manifested on Meruem's body as a suit of minimal, high-density armor and gauntlets.
"Ah... how sweet. And how hollow. I have lost my two greatest subjects."
The aura that erupted from Meruem was like a supernova. In terms of both aura and physical power, the Sun King had reached a level of true awakening that had no equal in history.
"A victory achieved with help... so be it. I shall trample you with all that I am."
"This is... a bit of a problem," Netero muttered.
The duel between the Sun and the Bodhisattva ascended to a new stage. And on the stairs following after them, the "Muscle" was charging at full speed.
***
If you want to read 10 chapters ahead or support me, visit my p.a.t.r.e.o.n.c.o.m /Well_being