Chapter 92: Netero's Visit × Roy's Fury
In the darkness, a shaft of light illuminated the young girl.
She wore a pink butterfly hair ribbon. Her eyes and tongue protruded grotesquely as she reached toward Moritonio with both hands. From the darkness behind her emerged countless more hands—some tearing at his hair, others clamping over his mouth, some strangling his neck, others clutching his legs. They dragged him relentlessly into the endless void.
"The resentment of the wrongfully dead typically returns to heaven and earth after vengeance is obtained. Such spirits are difficult to utilize or capture," Zeno observed in the distant mansion.
"Roy is different. That child seems capable of absorbing the power of departed spirits to strengthen himself," he continued.
On the second day after Roy's departure, Zeno visited Maha as usual to give the old man his massage. Naturally, he found himself offering commentary on the household's children.
All elderly people shared this affliction—they loved discussing their grandchildren.
Maha lifted his neck to make it easier for Zeno to reach his back, humming contentedly. "Each person's circumstances differ. That boy's abilities are his own. Better he venture out than remain cooped up, developing into a spoiled brat."
This was the principle of "tempering the heart through worldly experience." How could one temper the heart without experiencing the world?
A powerful Nen user must first possess unshakeable resolve. Whether inclined toward good or evil mattered little—the key was not being fragile, not shattering at the first pressure.
"You speak truth," Zeno agreed. "That child's visualization is the Sun itself. His purpose of salvation for all living beings aligns with Buddhist doctrine. Even departed spirits would naturally gravitate toward him."
Buddha?
Maha glared at Zeno sideways. Is the boy mocking me?
What nonsense—Buddhism, universal salvation—
"Is that brat Netero coming again?!" Maha's tone turned hostile, his gaze sharp and dangerous.
Ever since Zigg's death, Netero had found excuses to visit repeatedly. Did that young man think Maha was a decoration?
Zeno fell silent, neither confirming nor denying. He knew his grandfather harbored resentment—Netero had taken Zigg away years ago. But with the twentieth anniversary of Zigg's passing approaching, and Netero requesting to pay respects to his old friend, how could Zeno refuse?
Thus—
One kick.
That's all it took. Zeno was hurled backward through the air, crashing through the mansion's walls as if they were mere paper.
"Go find your Buddha!" Maha's voice thundered through the wreckage. "I have no such grandson!"
Glass rained down like crystalline tears. Zeno tumbled through the air—a mere speck against the vast blue sky. For a moment, it seemed the force might carry him clean away.
The sheer force of that single blow spoke volumes. Years of resentment, bottled and pressed down, had finally erupted. When such pain was allowed to fester, it became something truly terrifying.
In Glam Gas Land, in the darkness, the girl wrapped her arms around Moritonio's neck, whispering softly:
"Big brother... I've missed you so much... really, truly so much..."
"Forty years have passed. Can you tell me why you strangled my neck that night?"
"You don't know how much it hurt... how much I suffered... I couldn't breathe at all... I begged you to let me go... but you squeezed harder... So, my dear brother Moritonio, answer me!"
"Am I not your real sister?!"
"Look into my eyes. Answer me!"
A mournful cry echoed through the night.
Pitch-black resentment shot skyward, startling away passing birds. Moritonio was torn downward into hell. The man who had spent his entire life pursuing thrills finally discovered something that truly terrified him—he couldn't bring himself to face his sister's tragic form. His eyes darted desperately toward Roy. "Save me..."
Roy remained unmoved. Drawing his cane sword, blood sprayed forth. His voice was calm: "Your sister is right here. Why not ask her for help?"
Moritonio: "..."
He never imagined the blade he'd unleashed years ago would circle back to strike him one final time.
He clawed desperately upward, only to be pulled down again by countless grasping hands.
The girl's resentment was the most vicious spirit Roy had ever encountered. He couldn't fathom the torment of being murdered by blood kin simply because one's facial expression wasn't sufficiently surprised, then suffering forty years of suppressed silence with no voice to cry out.
He simply watched silently.
"Pop."
Moritonio's soul shattered like a burst bubble as it sank completely into darkness.
A cool evening breeze swept through the alley, lifting Hisoka's red hair. The young clown stood atop the wall, watching with keen interest.
The resentment, suddenly lacking a vessel, froze in place. After a long moment, the girl turned toward Roy, lifted her dress, and performed a respectful bow.
Through the girl's lowered head, Roy could even see the pink butterfly ribbon binding her hair.
Her voice came faintly: "Big brother... thank you..."
"You're welcome," Roy said, resheathing his cane sword with a slight nod.
A sudden clarity emerged within him—This girl is strong. Her resentment is powerful.
She bore no resemblance to the fragmented spirits he'd previously absorbed. Those lesser souls, lacking sufficient spiritual strength to sustain themselves in the physical world, simply dissipated upon losing their anchor.
But this one—fueled by hatred, bound by blood ties—even without an anchor, she could persist in this world like a free spirit, resting upon heaven as a blanket and earth as a bed.
Everything depends on her choice...
Night deepened. Autumn leaves drifted down onto Moritonio's corpse.
The girl straightened, caught the wind, and rose to observe the world. Neon lights flickered across the street. Cars and pedestrians flowed like rivers. Forty years had transformed everything. The familiar had become unfamiliar. There was nowhere she belonged anymore.
Many things she no longer recognized. Many faces wore false masks. Artificial smiles terrified her.
When she descended, she hesitated not at all. She nestled into Roy's embrace—here was the only warmth she craved.
"No... big brother, I hate this world. I don't want to be human anymore..."
[System Alert: "Life Energy" +50]
Roy seemed to hear the girl's whispered words. He gripped his cane sword, tilting his head skyward, letting the evening breeze tousle his bangs.
His emotions surged—a trace of sorrow permeated his being.
"Clap, clap, clap..." Rhythmic applause shattered the silence.
Hisoka spread his arms in praise: "What an exquisite performance!"
His expression was rapturous, unsatisfied.
Gotoh glanced at him, then turned toward Roy. The girl Roy had been protecting had already left the alley safely—she'd likely reached home by now.
Only two figures remained in the narrow passage, plus one clown. The atmosphere felt distinctly eerie.
"What if I told you," Hisoka said, hands in his pockets, "that you actually stole my prey?"
Hisoka jumped straight down from the wall, his gaze locked intensely on Roy. His tongue flicked out, licking his lips.
"Stop pretending," Gotoh said flatly, shoving his hands into his pockets and grasping several coins.
In this moment, it felt as though time itself had rearranged their destined encounter to occur now.
The young butler positioned himself protectively behind Roy, glaring coldly at Hisoka: "Moritonio was your troupe leader. As his companion, you had countless opportunities to act. Why not strike beforehand? Now that he's dead, you blame my young master?" Gotoh's patience has limits—especially when the young master is involved.
"Hehehehe..." Hisoka clawed at his face, peering through his fingers at Roy with a sinister grin: "Because, my friend... your young master is far more enticing!"
"Ahhh... exquisite... so beautiful, so perfect. I want to devour him..."
His expression twisted grotesquely. Malevolent intent began radiating from him, centered on Hisoka, directed toward Roy.
Gotoh narrowed his eyes imperceptibly, reaching for a coin with calculating precision. But a hand stopped him.
A cool wind swept past his shoulder. When Gotoh looked again—
The young man's earrings glowed with twin suns and mountain landscapes. Afterimages trailed behind him as his form began to blur. Within Hisoka's dilating pupils, two brilliant suns ignited in Roy's eyes—revealing every movement the clown attempted.
Roy seized Hisoka's head, jamming it directly into the wall. Head, neck, everything—embedded into solid stone. Only his body remained visible outside, thrashing twice before going still.
Roy spoke, his voice cold:
"Damn it... Why do I keep running into deviants?"