The Trial Gate could be called the Zoldyck family's monument to absolute strength.
In the future canon, Gon, Kurapika, and Leorio had to bust their guts and train for days—with Zebro's help—just to crack a single leaf. That said plenty.
Whoosh— A palm wind passed right by Illumi's cheek. He stood alone before the fully opened gate, staring.
Roy withdrew his hand, slid it casually into his pocket, and walked straight past him inside.
"You come with me," Gotoh said politely to Illumi, giving the blank-eyed boy a small bow before tugging Kuraging along, leading her toward the butlers' villa.
Boom— With no more force holding them, the Trial Gate leaves swung shut again.
Just like that, the two brothers were once more separated into different worlds.
Zebro watched from the side and shook his head inwardly. That morning he'd heard some old-timers on the radio chatting over family matters; someone had said: if your family has a powerful elder or older brother, it's a blessing—but it also means you're born "short" by comparison.
How did that line go again? Zebro scratched at his receding hairline until it nearly took off. Then he remembered:
[To bask in elder and brother's shelter… is also to be doomed to live under elder and brother's shadow.]
A spring mountain wind slid through. It was still cold.
Illumi's vacant eyes finally seemed to regain focus. He turned back, pushed open the Trial Gate, and went in as well. This time he opened only a single leaf—no more showing off.
"Young master… young master…"
At the foot of the stone steps leading straight up to the main estate, Kastro saw Roy and Illumi approach one on each side, clearly keeping their lanes.
He bowed low to both.
It hadn't been long, but Roy had tanned and thickened. By contrast, Kastro, weathered by daily gate duty, looked like he'd been through the wringer, though his eyes still burned bright as he stared past Roy, battle lust smoldering within.
"Young master, I've grown stronger," he said, lifting his chin to meet Roy's gaze. "Please bear witness. Today, here, I intend to defeat Butler Gotoh!"
Illumi came up one step behind Roy, arching a brow. Roy leaned on his cane-sword—one step below Kastro, yet still a full head taller. Even standing "lower," he somehow looked higher.
Without breaking stride, Roy clapped Kastro on the shoulder, brushed past him, and headed up toward the mountain.
Tap… tap… Their footsteps drifted away on the breeze.
Illumi glanced once at the frozen Kastro, then walked on.
The foolish big brother finally seemed to have found a nerve to poke. He quickened his pace until he was shoulder to shoulder with Roy. "I told you not to bring random people home. You didn't listen."
Roy said nothing.
Illumi glanced sideways. "Now there's internal conflict. You brought this on yourself."
Roy didn't look at him, as if he hadn't heard.
"Father said killers should move alone. Every extra person you bring adds another layer of risk. This is your fault," Illumi continued.
They climbed the last step. Before them rose the centuries-old Zoldyck castle.
Roy finally stopped. He turned and pointed at the great willow tree in the garden. "Two choices," he said calmly. "Hang yourself on it… or…"
He tapped the ground lightly with his cane-sword. It felt like he'd tapped Illumi right in the chest. Roy narrowed his eyes. "I hang you up there myself."
Illumi: "…"
Neck stiff, eyes locked on Roy's for a long moment, he finally turned and walked toward the willow.
He passed Luke, passed Kikyo, passed Silva, passed—
Milluki, who lay on the ground on his back with his belly exposed, still twitching from a recent shock. Illumi kicked Milluki over, vaulted into the branches, hooked his toes, and casually hung upside-down from the tree.
The young butler tending Milluki's "rehab massage" shrieked, "Young master Milluki!"
The peaceful garden instantly devolved into chaos.
Luke buried his head and pretended to be an ostrich. Kikyo stroked her belly, seeing only the child inside and nothing else. Only Silva stood, looking at Roy through the mayhem.
Father and son simply stared at each other for a moment… then each turned away.
"Eight o'clock tomorrow morning. I'll be waiting in the training room."
Silva said it as he supported Kikyo on their walk.
Roy's face stayed expressionless as he headed inside toward his bedroom.
Through the doors, around a corner, down a corridor—he halted. At a window, a thin, shriveled figure stood, soaking in the sun.
Roy took a deep breath, quickened his steps, and bowed deeply. "Great-grandfather."
"Mm. You're back?"
"I'm back."
"Give me your hand."
Roy obediently held out the back of his hand.
The ticking curse circling down his lifespan was immediately seized in Maha's grip.
In that instant, Roy felt… a vision.
A giant wrapped in black lightning, wielding a warhammer, boots on storm-clouds, a blue face with fangs, mouth exhaling and inhaling cloud and thunder. The hammer swung down toward the "curse," Heaven's thunder wrapped around it.
"Shatter."
Bong—
The world cracked and fell apart.
Roy's head spun. When he came back to himself, Maha was still gripping his hand, frowning at the still-counting sigil, deep in thought.
"Afraid?" the old man asked at last, voice low.
"Yes," Roy answered honestly.
It was like having a ticking bomb fused to his soul: you knew it would explode, which only made the waiting worse.
But fear was one thing. Letting it beat him was another. Roy smiled a little. "If I'm scared," he said, "then that thing should be scared too. Otherwise…"
"Wouldn't all this fear be a waste?"
He met Maha's gaze, eyes clear.
"Great-grandfather, I think the moment it chose not to kill me outright, that was its biggest mistake. As for me…"
He smiled like he was discussing tomorrow's weather. "I won't give it any time or any opening. If I can stab it once, I'll stab it a hundred times, a thousand, ten thousand…"
"Until it's nothing but paste."
"Then it can be the one who's afraid."
"Mm…" Maha listened quietly, and for once did not mock him. He let go of Roy's hand and looked out the window at the fine sunlight. "Your grandfather says your heart is too big. You even picked 'Godslayer Hunter' as a title. The old man thinks…"
"That title's not bad at all."
His clouded old eyes sharpened. "So what? The so-called 'god' dares curse my grandson, but my grandson isn't allowed to chop its head off?"
"There's no such logic."
"So you approve of me going to the Dark Continent?" Roy asked.
"When did I say that?" Maha shot him a sidelong glare. "If you dare go, I'll go up there, break its legs, then come back and break yours."
Roy: "…"
He had no idea how to respond to that.
He glanced out the window. Silva was still leading Kikyo around the garden, casting glances their way. Roy gave a wry smile. "Maybe you won't need to act at all."
"Don't blame your father. He's a block of wood. Hitting you is his way of caring," Maha said, hands clasped behind his back as he rocked. "I beat your grandpa far harder than he's ever beaten you…"
That much was true. He'd nearly beaten Jieg to death under a tree.
"Beating's affection, scolding's love. Our family doesn't play those 'civilized' games. A good thrashing is simpler."
…Simple like Illumi's needles in Killua's skull, and Milluki getting strung up and tased?
"The beam's crooked, don't be surprised the rafters lean," Roy thought, expression flat as he looked at Maha. Half-joking, he said, "You're right, great-grandfather. Actually…"
"I love Father too. Since you said so, I'll beat him within an inch of his life tomorrow."
Maha shot him a look. "You can beat him?"
Roy rested a hand on his cane-sword. "Not yet. But—"
His eyes narrowed. "If he thinks he can knock me down with three lashes like last time, it won't be that easy."
"Gaaah!" Goldie flared its wings in support.
Maha finally noticed the bird, snorted, and then turned, raising his voice just enough for Silva to hear: "You heard that? Lay into him good tomorrow!"
Even though the words weren't loud, they were laced with nen, and carried far. Silva's gaze settled on Roy from across the garden; he gave the slightest nod.
Roy: "…"
He turned on his heel and stalked off.
Three steps, two bounds, back to his bedroom. He tossed his cane-sword up; it skimmed the sheathed Yuki no Nami on the rack and dropped perfectly into place.
He himself didn't even undress—just flopped onto the soft bed and, using the scroll of demon intel as a face cover, let his mind unspool.
He picked out a few demons from the data, lingered on one in particular, then decided he'd grab a nap before lunch. Enough time to clear some travel fatigue and—before eight a.m. tomorrow—squeeze in another harvest of "life energy."
"Fssssshhhh…"
His breathing slowed; faint snores began.
Roy's eyes closed. He drifted into sleep, slipped through the rainbow tunnel of dreams, and stepped out onto the familiar shore of his cognitive sea.
No lingering this time. He went straight to the Demon Slayer door and pushed it open.
[Notification: "Life Energy" +3 +4 +2 +5…]
One demon, two, three, four. With intel in hand and his En sweeping for their scents, the kill-work was easy.
Two nights later, with four more demons down and his "life energy" refilled to thirty-five, Roy stood again in the Demon Slayer world, racing the fading night.
With a little time left before dawn, he headed to a town roughly fifty li northwest of Sagiri Mountain.
It was the town where, in canon, Tanjiro encountered his first demon after passing Final Selection—
The domain of the Swamp Demon.
A demon that split into three bodies and used a pocket-like swamp to move through space, snatching girls off the streets.
Multiple bodies plus spatial swamp… and with "Hand Demon" already having dropped Arm Regeneration, this creature was right at the top of Roy's "priority list."
The streets lay empty in the pre-dawn hours, lined with shuttered homes and shops. Roy walked alone through the silence.
At one point, he stopped.
He'd caught a whiff—a rancid, suffocating stench of demon.
~~~
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