He was doing it for Gon—and also not just for Gon.
Elena watched Ging's back as he stood there, and felt she understood him less and less.
He was born with "adventurer" written into his bones, hated the idea of being tied down by family… yet here he was, married with a child on the way, carving out an entire island as a "playground" for his son. It really was like her father always said:
Once a man starts a family, he becomes a dog on a chain. Most of the time he's stuck "guarding the house," going nowhere. The moment he dares to dream of "freedom," "adventure," and "wandering the world," those dreams get crushed by responsibility before they can even form.
So…
"Ging, are you really going to stay with Vivian and Gon while he grows up?"
Elena suddenly asked.
What she got in response was Ging's unhesitating laughter.
"Ha! Of course not."
He grabbed the fishing rod and flicked it upward, landing a flying fish. Its tail flung out a sheaf of water droplets that glittered in the dawn light. Ging watched it with bright, unwavering eyes.
"You still don't get me, huh? I've never belonged to one home or one person. I belong to the world. I want to go out there, explore more ruins, uncover more civilizations, realize my own life's worth."
"And Gon?" Elena pressed, feeling a sudden pang of sympathy for a child who hadn't even been born yet. "He's going to be so small…"
Ging's laughter faded. Silence settled over them.
Sea breeze tugged at their hair, lifting it gently. After a long moment, he thought of Mito, of the bar, of Whale Island, and of his one registered disciple, Kite. He stared out at the rolling sea.
"When he's strong enough, he'll come find me on his own."
"And when that day comes…"
The corner of Ging's mouth quirked up, his tone filled with anticipation.
"I bet it's going to be pretty fun."
Elena: "…"
Insane. Thoroughly insane. But then again, that's what adventurers were—glorious lunatics.
She spat in her heart, silently calling him a scumbag, then spun on her heel and left. She'd had enough of looking at him for the day.
Time to answer the butler.
"'Young Master, one month from now, meet in the coastal city on the western outskirts of the Yorbian Continent.' That's the reply."
In the Zoldyck estate on Kukuroo Mountain, Republic of Padokea…
Gotoh delivered the message to Roy the moment it came in.
It was six-thirty in the morning—still a good hour and a half before he needed to head for the training hall.
The boy sat at the dining table, West Continent Notes open before him. He waved lazily to show he'd heard, eyes still on the page as he combed through Zigg's notes for a concrete way to use "faith power," and gradually built a clearer understanding of how Faith and Nen intertwined.
The reason "gods" were so powerful was because they used faith as a conduit to harvest their believers' nen, and then used that stolen power to pry open nature's "authority."
According to Zigg's accounts of what he'd seen in the Samir Principality, Storm did exactly that—developing believers through its Storm Church, using faith as a medium to siphon off the nen of its worshippers, who were themselves part of "nature," and then stealing the Authority of Storm.
And…
The more believers there were—and the stronger they were—the more nen flowed into Storm, and the more terrifying the power it could wield. Which meant…
By the law of equivalent exchange, a god who illegally harvested nen would inevitably suffer backlash from Nature.
On page twenty-one, Roy found a case Zigg had personally witnessed—the high priest of Storm, a man named Flynn Courtney.
On a routine Sunday mass—just a normal sermon—and yet the priest failed to withstand nature's backlash. He mutated into a monster and slaughtered everyone present.
This became known as the infamous "711 Weston Massacre."
"Ever since I witnessed that, I gradually began to understand that so-called 'disasters' are very likely nothing more than former 'High Priests,' 'Clerics,' 'Angels'—and even 'Gods' themselves—after they've been consumed by Nature's backlash."
"It's the price that must be paid by anyone who tries to break away from Nature and ascend into some so-called 'extraordinary existence.'"
"It's also the fundamental mechanism behind why 'Contracts and Vows' can produce such overwhelming, absurd power."
Just like how Gon, a hundred miles behind Neferpitou in both nen and skill, could, by vowing to permanently lose his nen, pre-borrow all of his future potential from Nature in one go, summoning an "adult Gon" powerful enough to flatten Pitou.
Or how Kurapika, whose nen and body were both vastly inferior to Uvogin's, could swear that he would never again use his chains against anyone but the Spiders—on pain of death—and in return receive power specialized to annihilate the Phantom Troupe, later killing Uvo and shackling even Chrollo.
Or Netero, who used his own life as the cost to petition Nature to bar Beyond from the Dark Continent for as long as he lived.
Case after case spelled out the same truth: the relationship between "humans" and "Nature" was one of opposition and unity, both fighting and bound together by the same rules.
Roy finally understood why Great-Grandfather Maha had dragged Zigg down beneath the willow and beaten him within an inch of his life… and why Netero had sealed Beyond—and then, in the same breath, left a video behind after his death encouraging the Twelve Zodiacs to head for the Dark Continent.
Because as "old hands," both Maha and Netero knew exactly what would happen once Zigg or Beyond glimpsed the truth of "becoming a god."
One was wild, whimsical, and full of terrible ideas.
The other was greedy and ambitious to the bone.
Given their temperaments, both would find it nearly impossible to withstand Nature's backlash—or, more precisely, its corrosion.
And in the end, there was only so much they could do. You couldn't cage someone like Beyond forever. Knowing he would die soon and no longer able to restrain his son, Netero could only pin his hopes on the Zodiacs: maybe, out of old friendship, they could keep Beyond in check a little.
Even if he knew they might not be able to.
After all, in addition to being Chairman of the Hunter Association, he was also a father.
A father's love—helpless and stubborn both—was a damnable, beautiful thing.
Thoughts spun through Roy's mind. He now understood that Faith, used as a crowbar to pry open Nature's Authority, was a double-edged sword that could pierce its wielder at any time.
He rubbed at the brand on the back of his hand. The cursed timer ticked relentlessly on, eating away his lifespan one second at a time. Just as he had told Maha and Zeno—once a god laid eyes on him, his choices had vanished. His path now led only one way:
He had to become a god.
Steal Authority from Nature.
And yet…
"Child, you actually do have a choice."
It was 7:40 in the morning—twenty minutes left before he had to head to the training hall.
Roy closed the book and steadied his breathing, sitting quietly for a few minutes before heading out. On the way down the corridor, as he passed the little yellow-lit room, he "ran into" Maha.
The old man stood at the window, hands clasped behind his back, watching the sunrise. It was obvious he'd been waiting for Roy.
He spoke without turning around:
"This old man doesn't have many years left. Let me be the one to kill it for you."
He smiled faintly at Roy.
"I'm a leftover of the old era. There's no ship in this new age that can carry me anymore."
"Dragging myself along until now—I've had my fill. I'm tired of it, and I've already made my profit."
~~~
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