To serve the Zoldyck family was an honor.
To be a Zoldyck was an even greater one.
There was a time when Zeno Zoldyck believed himself to be a man of pride—and from the past to the present, he had always lived as such.
But as he looked at the boy in front of him—aside from the hair color, nearly a carbon copy of his younger self—he had to admit: he had underestimated him.
"Heh heh heh..."
Zeno stared fixedly at Roy, letting out a low chuckle.
"Freedom... that's a costly thing."
"Most people only ever dream of it but never attain it. I hope you can."
"Just do your best."
"Is that so?"
Zeno gave him a deep look.
"Doing your best isn't enough. You have to give it everything."
With that, he walked past Roy, hands behind his back.
His footsteps made no sound, as if he didn't touch the ground at all—his figure flickered like teleportation, disappearing from the corridor in an instant.
Roy stood in place, bathed in the setting sun.
He remained still for a while before lifting a foot—and just like Zeno, flickered from view, gliding in the opposite direction, toward his bedroom.
To reach the summit…
One must begin with Dark Step: Mastery.
"Seventeen thousand eight hundred twelve..."
"Seventeen thousand eight hundred thirteen..."
"Ugh~ Sabito, I've lost count!"
In the snowy land of Roy's Cognitive World,
Makomo stuck out her tongue and grumbled.
Beneath the birch trees, the boy kept swinging, slash after slash, like a tireless machine—challenging the boundaries of her understanding again and again.
"Then don't force yourself."
After all, ghosts weren't human. They had no physical form and couldn't exactly hold a notebook to keep track.
Sabito sympathized with her.
Even counting to twenty thousand was a trial of endurance and focus, let alone doing that many swings.
But Roy—he just didn't follow common sense.
"No! Just a little more—we're almost at twenty thousand!"
Makomo slapped her cheeks to motivate herself.
Since she insisted, Sabito knew better than to talk her out of it. Compared to guys like Shinsuke and Fukuda, who had long since become numb, Makomo's willpower was admirable.
"Eighteen thousand eight hundred eighty-eight..."
"Nineteen thousand nine hundred ninety-nine..."
"Twenty thousand!"
The blade sank into the wooden post, slicing it in two.
The cut surface gleamed like a mirror, reflecting Roy's steaming face—his determined expression looking every bit heroic.
In just six days, from 10,000 to 20,000, Roy had achieved the short-term goal he'd set for himself: performing two full rounds of Ten Thousand Sword Swings in a single day.
And even that… wasn't his limit.
"Add another 2,000 tomorrow."
Urokodaki Sakonji stepped out from the forest and—just like the past few days—delivered the same words to Roy.
The tengu mask made it hard to read his expression, but Sabito and Makomo—who had grown up under his roof—noticed his clenched fists behind his back.
It was clear... he wasn't as calm as he seemed.
"Master wants to see where Yoneichiro's limits really lie," Makomo whispered.
"You don't?" Sabito asked.
"I do… but any more and I'll really lose count..."
Makomo pouted, sticking her tongue out at him again.
Sabito laughed and shook his head.
This time, he didn't think about Giyu.
Three thousand swings at his peak simply couldn't compare to twenty thousand from someone not even at his limit.
Sabito was nearly certain—when Yoneichiro left the mountain, he would stun everyone.
Demons.
Or Demon Slayers.
"Maybe that's what Master is hoping for too..."
Sabito cast a quiet glance at Urokodaki.
The old Water Pillar muttered a single word—"Dinner"—before turning and walking away.
His back showed the faint hunch of a man slowly worn down by time.
[Notification: Swordsmanship +17]
Another night passed.
The wooden wall clock in the corner chimed again.
Roy—nearly wrung dry—shared a simple meal with Urokodaki, then climbed onto the warm bed and fell into deep sleep.
By the time he opened his eyes again, he had returned to Kukuroo Mountain.
That familiar mental fatigue—the kind where nothing seemed interesting—washed over him.
Fortunately, after several days of adaptation, he had learned to lie in bed a while longer each morning, waiting for the lethargy to pass before starting his run.
Thanks to Dark Step: Mastery, Roy had become even faster.
Even when trying to slow himself down, he still arrived at the Trial Gate—before the sun had fully risen.
"Good morning, Young Master."
Gairongbu spotted him from afar, removing his hat to offer a bow.
Roy gave him a nod, eyes glancing over the man's high-flying hairline—
Just then—BOOM!
The massive Trial Gate, dubbed the "Gate of the Underworld" by outsiders, creaked open three layers.
Out walked a familiar figure.
"Good morning, Young Master Illumi."
Gairongbu quickly put his hat back on and bowed once more.
Illumi Zoldyck was holding a severed human head.
He walked right past without a glance, tossing the head behind him.
Mike, catching the scent, rushed over and gulped it down in one bite.
"...Not even enough to get stuck in my teeth," the beast grumbled, shooting Illumi a glare.
It had rushed over in anticipation—only to be disappointed.
Illumi ignored it.
To him, the creature's resentful gaze was no more than air.
Instead, his eyes locked onto Roy's retreating back.
"Starting today, I'm at eighty-one wins too."
It was obvious.
The severed head just now must have belonged to the Emission-type Nen user who had tried to ambush him at Heavens Arena.
What a waste...
"It wasn't consecutive."
Roy glanced sideways at him with a calm reminder, then soared up the mountain.
Illumi's temple twitched.
Veins bulged on his forehead as he stared at Roy's fading silhouette and shouted, "Just you wait!"
His fists clenched tight.
"Heh..."
All he got in return was Roy's light chuckle—and a back that was already fading into the distance.
'Wait?'
We live under the same roof. Come anytime you like.
If you've got the nerve—then bring it.
Roy's sprint sent his earrings trailing like streamers.
He returned to his bedroom two minutes earlier than expected, took a shower, and sat down at the dining table, waiting for Wutong to bring breakfast.
Today's sandwich had a cheese filling.
As he flipped through his great-grandfather's handwritten notes, Wutong stood by and began reporting the day's training plan.
It wasn't until he heard the word "Master" that Roy closed the book and looked up.
"Master called. He'll be home tonight. And he's testing you first thing tomorrow morning."
The young butler pushed his gold-rimmed glasses up his nose, speaking with concern:
"So I suggest you cancel today's training and focus on resting."
But training plans were written in stone. Unless Silva gave the order himself—who could dare cancel?
Roy finished his sandwich, pulled out a napkin, and calmly wiped his mouth.
"No need. Tell Luke to wait for me in the training hall. Whether or not he can electrocute me today... is still up in the air."
He gave the system panel a quick glance:
[Physique: 12.05 → 13.05]
After several days of Sun Breathing practice...
He'd gained one full point.
Basically, another "normal human" added to his base.
Meaning...
He could probably endure even more.