"Knock… knock… knock…"
"Young master, it's me."
"Come in."
The door opened. Gotoh slipped in wearing a grave look, then shut it behind him. He glanced nervously at Roy, who was sitting cross-legged on the bed. "Sir—someone was peeping from the shadows!"
While packing a moment ago, the young butler had suddenly felt himself go "transparent" for an instant—and snapped to. He'd come straight here to check Roy's safety.
"That was me." Roy wasn't hiding it.
He smiled at the butler's brief stupefaction. "Let me guess—your next question is 'How did you do that'?"
Gotoh: "…"
Roy: "No need to be shocked."
He swept En over Gotoh alone. That familiar "prying" pressure dropped down at once.
The butler tasted again what it felt like to have your inner thoughts lifted out of your chest and laid in the sun. He grimaced. "Sir, have mercy."
"Heh." Roy waved him off. "Now you know. Go sleep."
"Yes." Gotoh nudged his glasses up, turned, and eased the door shut.
"Creak—" The latch caught. Roy's smile vanished. He cut a cold glance toward the window. "You, too. Roll back to bed."
Illumi was hanging upside down outside like a spider, peering in through the glass. "You care about me."
Roy: "…"
"If you didn't care, why watch me?" Illumi said serenely. "So—you must care!"
"I knew it. You—"
Bang!
A blur passed the window; a star streaked into the distance. The idiot was gone.
Roy shook his fist, spat, "What a pest."
He yanked the curtain shut—shutting out Illumi and Zaban City's nightscape—and lay down, switching off the lamp.
Night deepened.
After a war with Botobai—and a quiet "level up"—the body's weariness and the mind's fatigue washed over him. He told Goldie-chan to wake him if anything happened, and drifted off.
The familiar drop…
A riot of color tunneled him to the cognitive sea.
He rolled his cuffs and waded into the shallows, letting wash and foam scour him as he walked toward the Demon-Slayer Gate. At the threshold, he glanced at the Dark Continent Gate.
Black iron etched with ancient sigils—locked tight, like the curse ticking down his life—waiting for Roy to break the game.
He stood there a long time in silence, then turned and pushed through the Demon-Slayer door.
Two days passed.
Roy opened his eyes to a field of wisteria.
Demons fear two things: the sun, and wisteria blossoms.
The Final Selection is held on Fujikasane because seas of wisteria pen demons in, for examinees to hunt… or be hunted.
Roy snapped a spray of blossoms, breathed their fragrance—faint purple light humming off each petal. He rubbed; petals fell and rode the wind forward—
There stood the final gate: stone steps climbing to a hilltop shrine.
Shallow-blade in hand, sun-and-mountains earrings glinting, Roy climbed at an unhurried pace—each step a footprint, each step a change. Faces flickered in his mind: Sabito, Makomo, Shinji, Fukuda, Watanabe, Shimizu…
Skimming his Deceit (Transmutation), he mounted the last steps and halted. Ahead: two Hashira flanking a fragile man with pale eyes.
Roy stopped a beat, then walked on. One step and he was Watanabe. Two steps—Shimizu. Three—Fukuda. Four—Shinji…
With each step he became one of them—carrying his senpais' hopes, their last wishes—and approached Ubuyashiki Kagaya.
Gasps broke, eyes widened, wind clawed the eaves—
He became Yazuku… became Makomo… became Sabito… became Sakonji Urokodaki… until—
He stood three meters from the Master, changed back to himself, smiled, and nodded to Giyū. "Good evening, Senpai."
Giyū looked hard at the boy. Two days apart, and yet another spectacle. His lips parted; no words came. Finally, he tipped his chin in a nod.
"Namu Amida Butsu." Himejima's deep chant broke the hush. He had nearly swung a fist the size of a bowl a moment ago; step-by-step transformation—what besides Blood Demon Art could do that?
But close now, he smelled no "demon." With wisteria thick on the mountain, he pulled his hand in.
"Roy—you're even better than your master said," the Master said gently.
"Roy—this is the Master."
"Well met, Kamado Roy."
Roy did not kneel. Led by Giyū, he held out his right hand.
Giyū kept his silence. Himejima frowned, his "sense" running: in the boy's demeanor was respect—but no deference to the Ubuyashiki line.
"You didn't come to join the Corps," Himejima said plainly.
Roy slanted him a look and answered just as plainly, "No. I came to avenge my senpais."
"And after?" Himejima's beads stilled. "You won't take orders from the Master."
Roy saw the Master's eyes fixed on his extended hand in thought. "I'm no one's subordinate," he said. "I wasn't before, I'm not now, I won't be."
He looked straight at Ubuyashiki Kagaya.
A man willing to bait Muzan with his entire family deserved respect—but Roy would not kneel and swear fealty. Zoldyck knees are iron; they don't bend.
"Master," Himejima murmured.
Giyū looked to the Master.
The examinees—bewildered, awed—looked to him.
Kagaya came back from his thoughts, eyes warm. "You'll keep killing demons, won't you?"
"I will—but not forever," Roy said. "I came for one purpose: to kill every demon. Including…"
"Kibutsuji Muzan."
"Once he's dead, there'll be nothing left to kill."
Kagaya's eyes flickered. He took Roy's hand and smiled. "Good."
He did not belabor it. He nodded to Amane, who came forward with a scroll in both hands. "This is what you asked for—our compiled demon intel. I hope it helps."
"No rush." Roy drew his blade and didn't take it. He strode past, into the "demon pool" penned by wisteria.
"When I come back with demon blood on my sword," he said, "I'll take it then."
Steel whispered, red heat bloomed. In two breaths fire poured off the blade. He rolled his wrist—flame flared—and lit the black night.
~~~
Patreon(.)com/Bleam
— Currently You can Read 50 Chapters Ahead of Others!