Disguise…?
Pariston had seen Gotoh before—wasn't that the tall, lanky butler who shadowed Roy Zoldyck?
"It's not simple disguise… more like those monkeys," Beyond stroked his beard, eyes drifting over the dead Man-Faced Apes on screen, thinking.
At that, Pariston's gaze flashed. An absurd notion bubbled up—then he cut it down.
No way. No one can copy another's Transformation just by looking, even if they're a Transmuter…
Yes, Nen gets weird—sometimes outright broken—but there's a floor: equivalent exchange, vows & constraints, the whole bedrock logic.
On screen, Roy—now Gotoh—nudged the gold-rimmed glasses up his nose. His body shortened; black hair flashed white. Shoulders rounded, hands went behind his back—blink—and he was Zeno, white hair flying, "A Kill A Day, Never Retire" stamped across his chest.
At the grill by the gate, Netero nearly inhaled his udon, glanced sidelong at the real Zeno—and chuckled. "Kid's cheeky. You'd best beat it out of him. Otherwise, Zeno, let the boy go on my family registry."
A Conjurer sits nearest Transmutation; sure, Conjurers pick up Transmuter moves faster than, say, Enhancers—but that doesn't mean "see once, do forever." Roy's grasp wasn't raw—it had heat to it. For an instant, Netero saw Ging: same youth, same freakish talent.
Zeno ignored him; all his attention was on Roy. When the boy shrugged and turned into Botobai, Zeno's doubt thickened. The brat lived under his and Silva's noses—yet they'd never seen this trick.
Stinkin' kid hid deep.
…
Milsy Wetlands
After a quick shakedown of Fraud, Roy set his face to Botobai's and kept it, sauntering across the swamp to bait a response. He'd already spotted cameras tucked in every corner.
In the command shack, Botobai met Roy's stare through a lens. Sharp, kid. He didn't care the boy wore his face. He nodded to the straight-backed officer beside him. "Captain Youke. Deploy the suicide sappers."
If the boy thought a cheap skin-swap would fool Botobai's troops—too naive.
"Yes, sir." Captain Youke saluted cleanly, pivoted out, and keyed orders down the net.
The wetland wriggled with odd plants and beasts. Roy dropped Gyo, raised In, and probed ahead. A ground-ripple tickled his ankles. He sprang up a tree and looked—
A wave of Ghoul-Head Spiders, by the thousands, swarmed toward him, each plated in a hard aura film, their skull-like faces thrust up like antennae, all under Botobai's control.
Anyone with trypophobia would faint just seeing it.
"All units, target in tree. Coordinates Milsy (87.5042).
Commence detonation— five… four… three… two… one—"
BOOM BOOM BOOM—
Spiders popped like mines, peeling tree and sod alike, forcing Roy down.
[Beep—Life Energy +0.01 +0.01 +0.01…]
His Bestiary flared open:
Ghoul-Head Spider — Ephemeral organism (unranked) — No racial gift.
So where did the boom come from? Easy: Botobai planted micro-charges in each abdomen.
"Exquisite control," Pariston sat up, suddenly earnest. The spiders' eye-glint burned red—remote control. Count? A thousand plus. That meant the proctor was an Operator with huge capacity.
"Exquisite?" Beyond snorted. "Watch the black hairs. Botobai plated every spider in Ken."
If the boy intended to keep "repulsing" blasts like bullets, then…
"Unless he replies with Ken himself, this gets ugly."
"Is that so?" Pariston leaned in—and saw the black fur peeking through aura. He had to admit: as a son he was a failure, but Beyond's read never missed.
Milsy
Forced down, Roy threw up his Magnetic Field Wall, trying the bullet trick on explosions. But these Ken-plated sappers shoved through the repulsion and popped underfoot—
He yanked every pore open and flooded Ren outward, snapping a dome tight over the ground—a half-shell of aura. The only way to live.
"Now it's a contest of reserves," Netero murmured around his tea. Little Bo had obeyed instruction—no mercy. "You meet Ken with Ken. If Roy has nothing else, next wave and he buckles."
Zeno kept his silence. Netero was right: full-body "aura shielding" bleeds the tank dry. Roy had been scolded by "Grandpa Zigg" in those training notes: never do it unless you must. But Botobai's game made must—a ring squeeze from all directions, no holes, only pressure. It was the work of a future Three-Star Terrorist Hunter—Terrorist Hunter, prosecutor, and military analyst rolled into one.
[Ghoul-Head Spiders analyzed]
[External coat: Ken. Fragment "Ken" beginning extraction…]
[Fragment count: 57/200]
[Note: Gather 200 fragments to unlock advanced application Ken]
Finally.
The instant the tag locked, Roy dropped the dome, flipped up Shallow Strike, and carved a Sun Breathing: Dance across the swarm—
BOOM BOOM BOOM—
This time he didn't dodge at all. A sliver of Ten hugged the crow; he ate the blast-wave head-on, conserving every drop of aura he could.
"Is he insane?" Pariston blurted. "Drop the shield, tank the shock, stack injuries—you'll black out faster!"
"Guhahaha… steel yourself for a blade, or cower for a blade—still a blade," Beyond sipped his wine, more impressed by the second. "If you must die, better standing."
BOOM BOOM BOOM—
Sixty… seventy… eighty—the sword count climbed; the status digits rolled—
At the same time, each shockwave tore through Roy. Viscera tumbled; blood stained his lip. The thread of Ten over the crow almost snapped—
"Gaa—leave me!" The golden bird pulsed, dispelling its perch to flow back into Roy as raw Nen, back-filling his tank.
He drew one deep breath, canceled Fraud, reclaimed his own face—shing—cane-blade out, twin swords in hand, and charged the swarm.
BOOM BOOM BOOM—
A hundred. One-twenty. One-forty. One-eighty… two hundred—
[Fragments Ken complete—Imprinting…]
A hum rippled the panel; a torrent of instruction flooded his mind. Roy slashed a blazing circle, bought three heartbeats of vacuum, and drank the upload. When he opened his eyes, both Flame-Red Blades blazed, two spears of heat licking the air.
[Ken: Residual Flame Blades — Acquired]
~~~
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