"When the time comes, let's make a big fuss! Jehahaha~"
Uvogin laughed wantonly, hands on his hips. The sound boomed through the valley, scattering birds from the trees.
Nobunaga shot him a look of contempt, wiping down his katana and assuming an Iai stance. His reflection glinted in the blade—cold, precise, deadly.
"On the 1st of next month? Hmph. That should be easy to bury."
He flicked the blade once and sheathed it. "So don't go out."
The younger members of the Phantom Troupe stirred, their blood humming for chaos. A funeral of blood and fire was on the horizon.
In a small courtyard on Kukuroo Mountain…
Roy ended his call with Nanako, then walked to the wall, flipped open a calendar, and circled the 1st in red ink.
"Ten days left till the Jump Agency's signing event," he muttered. Just enough time.
The pantry was nearly empty. It made sense to go down the mountain, buy groceries, and maybe stop by the bank. Grandpa Maha had given him a card. He still hadn't checked the balance.
"If it's less than eight figures, don't blame me for dragging the old geezer out of retirement by the throat."
With the sarcasm done, Roy returned to his desk and started planning. Ten minutes later, he had a full schedule locked in—groceries, bank, errands… and maybe a little mayhem.
Then, he brewed himself a cup of coffee and returned to his manga workspace.
Time to grind. Draw lines. Sketch stories. Gain experience.
"Sssshhht—"
The pen whispered across the page. Once he started, he poured his entire being into it.
Plot… Draft… Linework… Storyboard… Finalizing.
Unknowingly, the afternoon slipped by.
As dusk settled, a chime echoed in his mind.
[Reminder: Experience +1]
[Current Total: 5 Points]
"One point in the morning, one in the afternoon, and another from sword practice at night… that's three points a day. At this rate…"
Roy's pale eyes glimmered slightly.
"I can unlock the template again the day after tomorrow."
If he reached 50% Fujitora before the signing event…
"Maybe I'll shatter the limits of the human body… rise beyond the ordinary… reach the realm of ghosts and gods."
That kind of transformation couldn't be stared at directly by mere mortals.
Still, he didn't know which aspect of Fujitora's power would awaken next. Patience. He needed patience.
"The bread is in the oven… it's just not baked yet."
Roy took a long breath in—then exhaled slowly.
His mind returned to stillness.
But just then, a presence climbed the mountain path. A shadow stood at his gate and knocked, firm and clear.
"Knock-knock~"
"Master Roy, Wutong reporting!"
He was dressed neatly in a tailored suit, around thirty, with a thin beard and gold-rimmed glasses—polished and composed.
It was Wutong, the chief steward of the Zoldyck estate and Canaria's direct superior.
Roy's blank eyes narrowed. He didn't move to open the door.
"There's no 'Master' here," Roy replied coldly. "Just Roy."
"Also, poor folks like me can't afford housekeepers."
A moment later, Roy extended his Ken (observation aura) and swept the woods—pinpointing another presence.
"Old man," Roy muttered. "You're not even trying to hide."
Zeno Zoldyck stepped out from behind the trees, hands folded behind his back. "Tch. Knew I couldn't hide from you, brat."
He gestured toward Wutong.
"Thought your room might be empty. Figured you could use a helper for chores, errands. Maybe even some protection, if needed."
"I sent him. I know I haven't been the most attentive grandfather. Let me make it up to you."
Roy leaned against the window, unimpressed.
"Kindness? Since when does a weasel wish a chicken Happy New Year?"
With a scoff, Roy slammed the window shut.
"Where'd you find this clown?"
"I like being alone."
"Don't bother me."
His voice was sharp—ice wrapped in steel.
"When I was young, helpless, and blind, you gave me nothing. Now that I'm capable, you send someone to 'assist' me? Really?"
"You think I'm still some outsider in this family?"
Zeno flinched.
His old face tensed. A blue vein twitched near his temple.
"One day, when you're in danger, you'll understand the value of allies!"
Zeno shouted into the room, still trying to sound fatherly.
WHAP!
A sock flew out the window and nearly hit him.
"Oh~ so that's why you always tag along with Silva on missions," Roy's voice dripped with sarcasm.
"You know you can't handle it solo, so you bring backup to clean up your mess."
"Tsk. Don't worry, I'm not as weak as you~"