A thunderclap out of nowhere.
A roar far beyond the war elephant's bellow detonated in every chest, its soul-jarring shockwave rippling out…
It swept past seabirds—seabirds fainted. It sheared the sea wind. The voice wasn't loud, yet it dragged human emotion straight into terror… Roy watched Pariston undergoing some change and had to admit: the man's talent was top tier—even among the future Zodiacs.
No worse than Ging or Botobai.
The more real the "imagination," the stronger the conjuration.
In the year he first awakened Nen, Pariston, riffing on "Yorbian Black & White Chess," quickly conjured a whole set of "pieces": heavy warhorses, armored knights, war elephants.
They're all things that truly exist. If your mind won't summon them, you can copy the real thing—zoo trips and field sketches—then "restore" them from imagination.
But "dragon"—especially the chess set's Silver Dragon—is colossal, near-impossible to find in the real world, and, frankly… most families will go to their graves without ever imagining such a monster exists.
So Pariston could only construct it from research and imagination—museum time, studying draconic remnants—two-winged lizard fossils—and piece together what a Silver Dragon should look like in his mind.
Even so, his current apparent aura couldn't fully conjure a complete "Silver Dragon." He had to "seed" it in himself—dragon-body—to build a false dragon.
Whooom— A gale rose, tending toward a storm. Centered on Pariston, aura surged; the rough shape of a dragon came into view—a horse's head, lion's body, lizard tail, crocodile scales, batlike wings—its roar split the sky.
Dragon's might.
ROAAAR— Louder than before. Pariston's wings beat and he rose, waves of force rolling out…
Thud, thud, thud… Kurta girl, bow boy, snake handler, dagger man, First Mate Gus—one and all saw their vision go black; brains hard-reset; they dropped like dumplings—every last one.
"Heh-heh… Hill-chan's Silver Dragon!"
How long had it been—two, three years—since he'd shown this form? Clark wrapped Ten and traded another punch with Illumi. The fat man's skin was crosshatched with razor lines—all the Snake Bite knife-hand.
Illumi spared a sliver of attention for the battlefield, clocked the dragon, heard its terror, saw the others collapsing… and remembered what Grandpa Zeno had once said: the family kept a dragon; when you're older, we'll take you to see it.
He hadn't expected to meet one here. His eyes dropped to Roy.
Big brother's face was calm, no expression. He let the gale tangle his bangs and looked up. The Silver Dragon's wings spread, as if to blot the last sunlight from the sky.
He didn't like that. He stamped the deck, launched into the air—cane blade in hand. As he rose, red freckles bloomed across the steel, joined into a line, then flooded the whole blade. A scorching red glare flared; a glance stung the eyes—burning.
"Young master…" Gotoh's hands were a machinegun—chasing Gaal with pure Nen bullets now; his pocket coins were long gone. He remembered when his eyes had been hurt… dusk light, a sun that should have set, bending back to appear inside the young master's pupils—
Blooming without restraint.
"The sky is a dragon's domain—you should've stayed on the ground…" Pariston noticed Roy ascending. In Silver Dragon form, he swooped, taking the high ground. A claw fell—fast, far faster than the charging elephant—on Roy in a blink.
No footing midair, no room to dodge—this was a slap into paste waiting to happen, like Clark's palm had made paste of Donovan… Gaal fled for his life under the hail of Nen bullets and jabbed at Gotoh's nerves:
"Stop struggling—you've lost. Your young master's strong, I admit it—but against the Silver Dragon…
"I've never seen anyone survive Pariston's strike!
"And he's only used it once—until now…"
Is that so?
Gotoh said nothing. His ten fingers snapped faster still. He didn't even look at Roy; he tracked Gaal and trusted the young master—there would not be a second time.
[Truth of the Sun · Eye That Shatters Illusion]
Close now—two suns rose in Roy's eyes—
His pupils blazed. The world unraveled into naked lines—
The wailing wind froze. Noise vanished. In the boy's sight there was only the claw slowed to infinity—and its master. Roy raised the blade without haste, sighted the Silver Dragon's heart—the blond boy's heart—and drove the point in…
Pariston's clear eyes went from confidence—to surprise—to fear—to panic—until he realized he couldn't move at all, and watched Roy's blade slip into his chest, split his ribs, and punch out his back. Finally, all color bled from his face…
"Kh… kh… so that's your true Nen…?"
His heart didn't hurt—no feeling at all—just a chill, then heat. Roy drew the blade; 0.1 seconds of the See-Through World ended.
The Silver Dragon fell away; Pariston's true body showed.
He touched his chest, looked up at Roy—and dropped from the sky like a cut kite.
Thud— The deck cratered under him.
Silence. Then—two frantic "splashes."
"Lost… Hill-chan lost… damn Zoldyck—I'm out!" Clark barely dodged another Ten-laced knifehand from Illumi; terror wiped his will. He spun and dove overboard.
Gaal was faster.
The thin guard couldn't believe it—but he couldn't deny the proof. The instant the blade skewered Pariston's heart, he threw himself into the sea and sprinted for the horizon—Gotoh's Nen bullets snapping after.
"Too slow…" Roy rode the breeze down to the deck. Without a glance he flicked two more cuts.
The great slashes, faster than pin or coin, hissed past Illumi and Gotoh—like guided missiles—vanished into the sea and chased Clark and Gaal. One breath later—two screams, and a blush of red floated to the surface.
~~~
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