Roy didn't bother with Illumi.
Even knocked out, his little brother's dead-fish eyes still seemed to glare—clearly unconvinced.
'I, Illumi, have never been weaker than anyone.' Roy could practically hear what was running through Illumi's head when he stubbornly chose the higher-voltage baton.
Roy simply sat on him for a bit, then waved for Luke to dig a pit in the courtyard and tossed Illumi in.
"Master, is this… appropriate?" Luke fretted that when Illumi woke, he'd kill him on the spot. He hovered at a distance, watching Roy shovel dirt over Illumi and gulping hard. He might look fierce while shocking people, but that was Silva's order—a job. If he really offended a young master, he'd be dog food for Mike by tomorrow.
As Roy regained motor control while filling the pit, he left only Illumi's head aboveground and said lazily, "Relax. He likes sleeping like this."
Luke didn't buy it—until Roy packed the last spadeful, planted the shovel, and Luke realized with a start that Illumi's perpetually staring eye had… closed.
"Hold an umbrella for me. It's too bright."
Given a choice between napping under the blazing sun and his hole at home, Illumi preferred the latter. But his body was still numb, so he had to make do.
"Yes, sir…" Head down, Luke hurried off for the parasol, walking fast and not daring to look—lest Illumi catch the odd glance and hold a grudge.
Roy shaded his eyes with a hand, stabbed the shovel into the ground, tossed, "Rest well," and turned for the training hall.
Illumi's closed eye opened again. He watched Roy skirt the end of the corridor and near the corner where he'd vanish. Then he said:
"Next time, I'll wake up before you."
Bang—
The training hall doors slammed shut, cutting off Illumi's view.
"Hope so," Roy said mildly.
He grabbed Yukizō from the corner, drew it in one clean motion.
Shing—
Steel flashed, throwing a spear of sunlight so bright it made you squint.
Holding his breath, Roy didn't launch into Sun Breathing at once. He settled his mind, scraped the fidgets from his five viscera. Then he cracked his lips and took a long, sharp breath, gripped the blade in both hands, and slashed on the bias.
"Sun Breathing, First Form: Dance!"
Whoom—
The arc of the blade rolled a wave of heat; for an instant a spark seemed to jump from the edge, branding a faint scorch along the wall.
'No good. Not focused…'
His eyes hardened. Wrist turning, he rose from low to high—tip hissing through air, carving another ring of fire.
'Still no. Focus isn't there…'
Next—
"Third Form: Raging Sun…"
"Fourth Form: Fake Rainbow…"
"Fifth Form: Fire Wheel…"
One cut after another, faster and fiercer, hunting that thread of "single-point focus." Even when Wutong called him to lunch, Roy parried with, "Not hungry."
"Are you Enhancement?" Illumi finally woke.
The boy shook off dirt and climbed from the pit, peering through the window. He watched until Roy's practice ended—then realized he'd napped away the day. Honestly, sleeping in the garden under a parasol wasn't bad… Something he'd never tried. Bathed in dusk, he walked into the hall and stopped before Roy.
"I think you need a sparring partner."
He flexed his wrist and raised his hand like a knife. Opening his aura nodes had pumped him full of confidence.
The next second—
A blur.
Roy had his fist in Illumi's exploded hair, face planted to the floor.
"I'm starving. No time to play."
Yukizō slid back into its sheath. Roy's stomach growled; he stepped over Illumi's "corpse" and pushed the door.
Creak— The door thudded shut.
Illumi stared at the ceiling with those hollow eyes, blank for a long beat—
Until…
Silva appeared.
Illumi tipped up his burned-into-an-afro head and asked stiffly, "He's Enhancement, right?"
[Enhancement]: Increase the innate qualities of oneself or one's weapon.
Its "development path" leans toward strengthening the body via Nen to bolster offense and defense. The most famous exemplar is "the strongest human," Isaac Netero.
"Don't know." Silva set his feet on two stone blocks and began pressing into a side split.
He'd planned to take a job with Zeno that night; Zeno bailed at the last minute, so… he'd handle it solo. Ten billion was a big contract—would take some doing.
Illumi stood, still staring at Silva. "He has to be Enhancement."
Otherwise how do you explain that burst speed you can't even track?
"He didn't use Nen to put you down," Silva said, glancing toward the corner.
A new camera sat there, iron-shrouded—no longer a lens one sword could poke through.
"Then what did he use?"
"Dark Step."
"…"
Illumi visibly froze.
He drifted to the window, propped his hands on the sill, and flipped out. Silva watched him go. The boy found the morning's pit, jumped in, and mechanically raked dirt over himself—like only the earth could offer any comfort.
'Weak. You're too weak, Illumi.'
Separated by a single corridor, the Zoldyck brothers seemed of one mind; the same thought surfaced in both their heads.
What Illumi couldn't see—
Roy was strolling the castle's scuffed stone floors. A panel flickered: [Physique +0.05]. He gave "Dark Step" a casual glance—
[Dark Step: Mastery (89/100)]
Wouldn't be long before it advanced to "Great Achievement."
'Must be thanks to the physique boost.'
Clear as a mirror, Roy's mind started to itch—he could hardly wait to "sleep."
But with a brutal night session looming, he decided to eat first, then take an herbal soak.
Thankfully, Wutong knew him well by now. Hearing Roy had blacked out earlier, he'd prepped the bath in advance.
So after dinner, a towel over his head, Roy leaned on the tub rim, eyes shut, soaking. Wutong ladled hot water over his back again and again, then reported the day's final note:
"The master said…"
"In half a month, he'll assess your training result."
"What 'training'?"
"Zetsu." Wutong removed his fogged glasses, voice low. "The master said if you can take three lashes from him, you pass."
Roy's face went stiff. The memory of a million volts to the chest crept back—and his sternum began to ache all over again.