It's him!
The sudden turn shattered all noise.
Clark's severed arm spun away, caught by the wind and dropping into the sea, swallowed in an instant.
"Kh—" Blood spurted. Pariston and Gaal froze—the slash skimmed past both their shoulders, tore open the bulwark, and left a straight gouge across the deck.
"Hey~ hey~ my ship!" Captain jolted out of his nap and fell out of his chair. Through the window he saw—
a shocking furrow running from the bow straight to the rail—more dramatic than a lightning strike!
"Roy Zoldyck…" The blond boy came back to himself; the smile vanished from his face.
Gaal ripped a strip of cloth and bound Clark's stump—quick field work. Clark gritted his teeth, glaring at Roy, sealed his aura nodes and slipped into Zetsu to start healing.
Roy walked forward at an unhurried pace, following the scar his slash carved. All fighting seemed to pause in that instant; people split to either side and gave him the way.
Expressionless, no joy no sorrow, he simply looked at Pariston's trio.
Pariston took his hands out of his pockets and asked calmly, "Why?"
"You know we don't want to be your enemies. We've stayed out of your way… I trust you're smart enough to see that…"
The man who loved to be hated now found himself hating first—that stifling feeling almost drove Pariston mad; aura wrapped his hands without his willing it.
Tap… tap… Roy stepped down from the bow, walked through Kurta girl's line of sight, past the stunned knife-man, and came to stand by the weirdo.
A ripple moved in the weirdo's hollow eyes. He craned his neck and snorted. "I didn't ask you to help."
"Shut up. I'll deal with you later." Roy leveled the cane blade at Pariston's throat. "The three of you—at once."
Little brother wasn't strong enough to take three; so the big brother would test their mettle…
What did that mean?
"He's family?" Pariston glanced at the weirdo Roy had put behind him—and got it. He killed his aura, opened his hands, and forced a smile. "A misunderstanding—just a misunderstanding. If we'd known he was yours, we wouldn't have raised a hand…"
A case of the river flooding the Dragon King's temple…
Clark's bleeding had stopped; comprehension hit him like bile and he almost blacked out again.
"Another Zoldyck?!"
"You could've said so, dammit—then I wouldn't have—!"
"Easy—the stump's bleeding again…" Gaal patted Clark and coolly measured the Zoldyck brothers. Ever since Roy boarded, the pressure had been ratcheting up and up.
Roy held the blade—no sign of lowering it. This wasn't about Zoldycks or "ordinary people."
"If you choose to strike, be prepared to be struck back."
Saying otherwise now… is too late.
[Magnetism · Pressure · Gravity Blade!]
Vmm— Lines of air wrapped Pariston, Gaal, and Clark—hands and feet!
The three felt their bodies drop—as if a boulder fell on their heads. Their feet punched through the deck with a crack.
Then a streak of white steel—and a Nen pin—and a scatter of coins—all fired at vital points in the instant they were pinned.
"I said I didn't want your help!" Illumi blurred toward Clark—purest mule-headedness.
At the same time, Gotoh moved even faster for Gaal—glasses flash, coins pouring like bullets.
"Forgive me, young master—I can't stand by and watch. Please understand…"
One, then two—"Always making more work for me…" Roy's slash flew—faster than pin or coin. He walked toward Pariston as if in a garden.
Crump… crump… Boards buckled, sawdust flew; the bulging planks blocked pin and coin—but not the slash. It whispered past Pariston's ear into the sea—taking a lock of gold with it.
BOOM! The surface popped—spiraling into a vortex.
Pariston's brow flicked; he felt the edge still licking from the air. He undid a button and shrugged out of his jacket, the white shirt beneath stark. "Truth is, I don't like fighting—but if you won't listen…"
"Clark. Gaal. Don't hold back—kill."
A future Vice Chairman wasn't indecisive.
When reason fails, raise force to the high ground—floor the enemy, break him.
Given the order, they set their jaws. Zoldyck or not—kill first, talk later.
Aura flared; they clashed with Gotoh and Illumi.
Bang, bang, bang— Steel rang on steel. Captain nearly fainted from heartbreak. He kept yelling, "Easy—my ship—my ship!"
Crew and candidates poured into the wheelhouse and tucked their heads down. Not a soul dared step out to mediate.
Roy twined the blade, aura licking the steel. He lopped a flying board in half, then planted a perfect Shadow Step and drove for Pariston.
Sun Breathing: Seventh Form: Sunflower Thrust Form!
The tip sparked flame from the air; with over a hundred points of Physique's backing, the thrust sang—and closed to Pariston's heart in a blink.
Pariston narrowed his eyes, snapped his fingers. "Come—Board."
A black-and-white grid rippled out from him in an instant—and a chorus of whinnies, hiiii— From the white squares sprang eight barded chargers, each bearing a knight with lance lowered—blocking Roy's path.
Board… cavalry… control the field… A game-theory style Hatsu—very much your flavor, Pariston. Eight lances stabbed; Roy shifted mid-thrust, turned "stab" to "lift," then flowed into a Circular Slash—
Flame-wreathed cuts hissed cold; lances and the knights' weapon hands fell together. Then came the hammer of hooves—rein yanked, the chargers came down at Roy's head.
"Oh lord—what am I watching?"
"Why does the blade catch fire?"
"Why does my body feel heavy?"
"And those barded horses… armored riders… what are they?"
Edge and steel flashed in a blur; a stray gust of sword aura blew out the window and tore into the wheelhouse. Everyone but Captain shivered in a pile.
"Is this the real Hunter Exam?"
Kurta girl crouched in a dead corner, stunned—her lovely eyes filled with the image of the boy and his cane blade scything a storm of sword-light.
~~~
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