Chapter 168: The Sun's Darkness x The Phantom Troupe's Debut
Phew...
As the pain subsided and the power surged forth, Roy let out a light breath, keenly feeling the strength emanating from deep within his body. He folded his hands and stretched upwards.
Crack! Crack!
His neck, elbows, knees, and ankles cracked like frying beans. He felt an indescribable sense of ease. He quickly took a shower and sat down at the dining table with the Record of the West Continent. Just then, Gotoh pushed the cart in. Roy looked up at the young butler.
[Believer: Gotoh]
[Physique: 217 → 220]
[Aura Output: D+ (9754/10000) → C- (77/100,000)]
[Potential Aura: C- (1745/100,000 → 2250/100,000)]
Since learning the "Breathing Style," the "Physique bottleneck" that had resisted breaking for years had finally shown signs of easing. Clearly, he had worked extremely hard these past few days.
Roy smiled. "Have you completely mastered it?"
Gotoh pushed up his glasses and shook his head. "I still cannot maintain 'Total Concentration: Constant,' as the Young Master described."
"No rush." Roy took the knife and fork Gotoh offered and cut into a steak. "Have someone prepare some gourds. Blow into them whenever you have free time; it will help extend your 'Concentration' duration." Breathing Styles primarily strengthen "cardiopulmonary function." Strong lungs and heart heat the blood, accelerating the heartbeat and unlocking potential. In the original story, Tanjiro and Zenitsu learned 'Total Concentration: Constant' using this method at the Butterfly Mansion.
"Yes, sir." Gotoh made a note.
Dinner ended quickly. The young butler cleared the table and left with the cart, but Roy called him back before he exited the room. The boy opened his right hand, and through concentrated "Nen," he Conjured the "Nen Gun," branded with the Divine Script [Infinite], meaning "infinite rapid-fire." He handed it to Gotoh. "Take this."
Gotoh accepted the gun. Immediately, he recognized the difference. This was a [Nen Tool] branded with [Divine Script]! "Infinite rapid-fire, endless Nen bullets, and this gun also amplifies Emitter output. It's a rare and excellent weapon."
Roy opened the Record of the West Continent to the page on "Faith Application," reading without looking up. "I'll leave the rest to you."
Gotoh lovingly touched the "Infinite Pistol." He wanted to say something, but seeing the Young Master already immersed in reading, he pressed the gun to his chest, bowed, and left. "I will use it well," the young butler silently vowed.
Sha... sha... The curtain rustled in the wind, revealing the deep night outside.
Inside the bedroom, dimly lit, only the sound of the boy quietly turning pages remained. Roy cross-referenced Grandpa Zzigg's theories on "Faith" and "Nen" with his own experiences. He thought back to the encounter with Frank Capone and the [Storm] believer, Benjamin, who could communicate with nature to augment "lightning strength." How much "Faith" had he absorbed? How much "Aura" had he borrowed?
Perhaps Little Mary and the other "outcasts" hunted by the 4K Gang were treated so savagely because their "spirits" had already been partially corrupted by [Nature] and were slowly turning into "pollution" or "Calamities."
Roy flipped to page 27. A clear sentence was written there—
[The deeper the faith, the more extreme the person becomes. Upward, it means great virtue; downward, it means great evil. The latter brings ruin to entire cities...]
That Benjamin was clearly the latter!
Roy pondered. He didn't know the exact doctrines of the being who wielded the [Authority of Storm], but he was wary. The [Sun] wasn't just benevolent. It could nurture everything, but when its fury peaked, it could also cause drought, baking crops to death. A duality existed. A contradiction was inherent in its "concrete existence."
[Therefore, it depends on the person, and how the power is guided...]
Zzigg's note ended there. He seemed to have said everything, yet nothing at all. Perhaps Grandpa Zzigg himself didn't have a concrete answer or execution plan.
His thoughts spun. Roy closed the book and tapped the table with his fingers. After a moment, his gaze hardened. The path was clear. Since he had set foot on it, there was no turning back!
Preaching in the Demon Slayer world... Preaching on the Dark Continent... and Preaching right here on this island, trapped by Lake Mobius...
The boy pushed back his chair and walked to the window, gazing at the moon and the sparse stars. He mentally plotted the island's terrain. At one point, his eyes narrowed, settling on one location—
The place the world discarded as a junkyard—Meteor City!
"We never reject anything, and no one can take anything from us."
A face appeared in his mind: Cross tattoo on the forehead, blue earrings, usually sporting slicked-back hair but sometimes letting it down when collecting intel or flirting. His eyes were as deep and tranquil as a pool, yet completely unreadable.
Roy propped up his chin. He decided to bring a little "light" and "heat" to this unclaimed land, a place that had persisted for fifteen hundred years in its brutality.
Whoosh~ The evening wind rustled his Hanafuda earrings. The boy stood with his hands behind his back, looking south across the night sky.
Across the sea, on the northern border of the Yorbian Continent, where Meteor City stood... a "play" was taking place.
"First, never act on impulse!"
"Second, never let a single villain escape!"
"Third, judge fairly and beautifully!"
"Minna-san~ Good afternoon! We are—The Cleanup Brigade!"
In a church located in the western sector of Meteor City, a boy with a bowl cut, holding a microphone, was enthusiastically playing the role of the "host," smiling and waving at the crowd. The anticipating audience erupted in cheers, filling the grand, solemn hall.
He had hair as dark as ink and was narrating the animation The Cleanup Brigade. As the curtain slowly drew back, he stepped aside, allowing the pink-haired girl playing the "Pink Warrior" to make her flamboyant entrance.
From backstage, a half-grown boy in leopard-skin shorts, shirtless, and a wandering swordsman with a battered wooden sword at his waist were arguing. The swordsman looked pleadingly at a young girl with two golden pigtails. "Sarasa... we need your help..."
The girl nodded solemnly. Though tiny, she walked with a purposeful stride, stepping between the half-grown boy and the wandering swordsman. She clapped her hands on their arms. "Shhh... stop fighting."
Uvogin and Nobunaga both snorted and looked away. Seeing this, Chrollo Lucilfer, who was observing from the sidelines, silently let out a breath. 'Only Sarasa can handle those two.'
The three were Chrollo Lucilfer, Uvogin, and Nobunaga Hazama.
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