"Hehehe... how wonderful..."
"Friendships forged in the green spring of youth are the purest and most beautiful of all. Just like today's sunlight—it warms the body so thoroughly it makes a man want to drift off to sleep."
In the small courtyard behind the prayer hall of the chapel, Daniel Lauren sat as he always did. Propped up on a small stool against a towering marble pillar, he basked in the sun with his eyes closed. His ears, not yet failed by age, clearly caught the conversation of the youths nearby. For a fleeting moment, he felt transported back to the passionate days of his own youth, when he carried a scripture in one hand and a blade in the other.
Back then, the book was the Bible and the blade was a rapier. But he was no longer that man. Now, he was old and withered. He could no longer grip a sword, and he had lost the heart to recite the scriptures. He merely muttered, "Lord, grant me your grace," hoping for an early departure to the kingdom of heaven.
It would be a fitting end to a life of unremarkable labor.
"You should advise them." A fragrant breeze wafted from the corner of the corridor.
A young woman emerged, her face veiled by light gauze. Sister Lotus, wearing a wide-brimmed hat as black as ink, walked over with a graceful gait. Imitating the old priest, she leaned against a pillar and looked up at the brilliant sun. "Those children are too stubborn," she said flatly. "They'll run into a wall sooner or later."
And in Meteor City, hitting a wall usually meant death.
"You can't teach them..." Daniel Lauren's face was a map of deep wrinkles, weathered by time and finally finding a moment of peace in the sun. He savored the warmth and smiled. "Humans are born with a certain... stubborn streak."
"If you try to tell them, they won't listen. They only understand once things have actually gone wrong."
"I investigated the other party's background," Lotus said, not disagreeing.
The old priest's eyelids flickered. Lotus knit her beautiful brows. "The result was... nothing. The man appeared out of thin air. No history, no trail. All we know is that he worships the sun. He brought an attendant named Kastro, who actually has some history."
The woman rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "Supposedly, this Kastro used to fight at Heaven's Arena. He vanished one day, and no one heard from him again. Now it seems... he's been converted."
"Hehehe..."
"No background is the most significant background of all." Daniel Lauren leaned back against the solid marble. He tilted his chin toward the sun, and when he opened his eyes, the light was so intense he had to squint again. He murmured softly, "The sun is good... nothing dark can hide beneath it."
"Likewise, the darkness cannot tolerate it."
Lotus fell silent. The old priest had seen through it all; his words felt like a prophecy. Since Roy and Kastro moved into Street 4, the master and servant had not killed a single person. Even when dealing with those harboring ill intent, they merely taught them a lesson and sent them packing. However...
Street 4 was never a peaceful place. It wasn't in the past, it wasn't now, and it never would be. Based on her investigation over the last few days...
Lotus had noticed many eyes watching Street 4, both in the light and the shadows. They were staring at that pale church, at the priest named Taiyi, and at his attendant, Kastro. They watched like starving tigers.
Among them were people from the Council of Elders, various local factions, and... someone who made even her head ache. Specifically, that man who had been 'on the needle.'
Lotus suddenly recalled those sickly green eyes and the twisted darkness the man desperately suppressed beneath a calm facade. Her chest heaved as her heart began to race.
Just then, Daniel Lauren looked over with a chuckle. "If you're truly worried, go take a look."
Lotus let out a cold snort and turned to leave. "Lord Bishop, do not forget—I am a mortician. The more people die, the happier I am."
She forced a stiff tone. "Don't misunderstand. I'm going there... to collect their corpses."
Before Daniel could even laugh, she hitched up her skirts and vanished from the courtyard like a gust of wind.
Left alone, the old priest continued to enjoy the sun, muttering to himself. "Yes... quite..."
A moment later, his head drooped, a tiny bubble popped at the tip of his nose, and he drifted back into a nap.
Meteor City, West District, Street 4.
The congee stall opened once a day, and bread was distributed one loaf per person. With the help of the cooks and several young butlers hand-picked and sent over by Gotoh to maintain order, the operation ran smoothly.
Kastro stayed by Roy's side, helping to clean the interior and exterior, weeding the grounds, mopping floors, and organizing the materials needed for the church's renovation—stone, timber, and paint. The youth, with his striking silver hair, moved like the wind. His diligent efforts were beginning to mirror Gotoh's own efficiency.
"Good work," was the praise his young master gave him.
'Stay loyal. Surpass Gotoh.' This was the standard Kastro set for himself.
He carried a hoe as if it were a blade, maintaining his Breathing Style twenty-four hours a day. With every swing, he precisely peeled back a layer of sod. His mind was immersed in the sensation, feeling his constitution and aura being pushed forward steadily and powerfully by the breathing technique. A fountain of energy welled up within him until a commotion at the congee stall caught his attention. He knit his brows, stopped his movements, and exhaled a long, thin breath.
'It seems someone else has come to cause trouble.'
'The young master is kind-hearted and won't lower himself to deal with you, but you people simply don't know how to appreciate it.' If that was the case, they couldn't blame him for being ruthless. He was looking for a place to vent his burgeoning strength anyway.
The youth snorted, shouldered his hoe, and walked toward the stall. He saw two men and a girl, accompanied by Chrollo, Shalnark, and Pakunoda, whom he had met before. They were in a standoff with the butlers. In fact, the leader of the newcomers—a man built like a bear, shirtless with only a pelt wrapped around his waist—was grinning as he traded a punch with Itsuki, a butler Kastro had befriended at the villa.
Kastro slammed the butt of his hoe into the ground with a heavy thud. Ignoring Uvogin and Nobunaga for a moment, he looked at the trio behind them. "I didn't expect it to be you three."
The youth's silver hair shimmered brilliantly in the sunlight. "Praise the Sun."
"What? You didn't die last time, so you've come back to finish the job today?"
Meeting Kastro's icy gaze, Chrollo keenly sensed the killing intent in the boy's voice. He swallowed hard, stepped forward, and gave a respectful bow. "Praise the Sun."
"You misunderstand."
Chrollo remained bowed, pointing a finger at Uvogin and Nobunaga. He gave Pakunoda a look, signaling her to quietly pull Sarasa to the side. "I would like to ask you to please give these two a proper lesson," he said with utter sincerity. "As long as they don't die, you may do as you wish with them."
Uvogin and Nobunaga froze.
The former reacted first, exploding in rage. He grabbed Chrollo by the collar and hoisted him up. "What the hell do you mean by that?"
Boosting the enemy's morale while trashing their own... "Chrollo, you dare be a traitor?"
As for what happened to traitors... the Clean-up Rangers had already provided the answer.
Clang!
Nobunaga didn't say a word; he simply drew his sword. The rusty katana scraped against the scabbard with a tooth-gritting screech. He gripped the hilt with both hands, leveling the blade before him. The tip glinted with a cold light, pointed straight at Chrollo.
Kastro raised an eyebrow, watching the scene impassively. At that moment, his ears twitched. A telepathic message drifted from the depths of the church. The youth glanced sideways at Chrollo. Without any apparent setup, his hoe suddenly swept through the air. It friction-heated against the atmosphere, trailing a spark of fire. It was simultaneously slow and impossibly fast, striking Nobunaga's katana with pinpoint precision.
Snap!
A crisp sound echoed.
Nobunaga felt a massive force surge through the blade. While he was still in shock, the webbing between his thumb and forefinger split open, spraying blood. His sword was batted away by Kastro's hoe as if it were a mere toy.
[Flame Breathing, First Form: Unknowing Fire]
The sudden strike instantly froze the surrounding air.
The hoe, wreathed in fading embers, spun once before Kastro shouldered it again. He took a step forward.
Having already witnessed his prowess, Shalnark and Pakunoda grabbed Sarasa from both sides and beat a hasty retreat.
In the blink of an eye, only Uvogin remained, still stupidly holding Chrollo. Snapping out of it, he let go of Chrollo's collar with a grim expression. He stood beside Nobunaga, who had retrieved his sword. A fierce battle intent burned in his eyes.
"Old man, can you still hold that toothpick?"
"I told you, call me old man again and I'll kill you!" Nobunaga ignored his bleeding hand and gripped his sword tight, squinting at Kastro. The silver-haired boy's flaming strike had been faster than he could react to. Clearly, this was a dangerous opponent.
"Watch out. His strength... it's monstrous."
"Haha... isn't that perfect?" Uvogin cracked his knuckles with a loud pop. He let out a boisterous, bear-like laugh. He lunged forward, throwing a massive punch.
His black hair whipped wildly as he roared, "My strength isn't half-bad either!"
His iron fist tore through the air with a whistling howl, heavy enough to crush bone.
The wind from the punch blew Kastro's bangs back. In an instant, he judged that this wild man in the pelt possessed impressive raw power.
Unfortunately... there is an insurmountable wall between 'Mortal' and 'Nen.' Without their nodes opened, their bodies would never be tempered by aura.
Furthermore, thanks to Roy's guidance, Kastro had already mastered [Total Concentration: Constant].
Even though Uvogin viewed Kastro as a formidable foe and put his full strength into the blow, Kastro's "Tiger Bite Fist" was faster. It struck Uvogin's knuckles with a light touch and sent him flying backward.
Hiss—
As he tumbled through the air, the pain caught up. Uvogin gritted his teeth and nursed his fist as he crashed into a nearby pile of junk. In all his years of brawling, he had never been handled so pathetically.
"Hahaha... wonderful!" His fist was trembling, and his knuckles were screaming in agony, but his adrenaline didn't dip for a second. As Uvogin scrambled back to his feet, a brilliant flash of steel cut through the air.
Just as Kastro finished his strike on Uvogin—that moment when the old force is spent and the new force has yet to rise—Nobunaga keenly seized the opening. He slid beneath Kastro's arm, thrusting his katana straight for the boy's heart.
Ping!
The tip of the blade felt like it hit solid bedrock. Though the sword was right against Kastro's chest, no matter how much strength Nobunaga exerted, he couldn't pierce the skin. He couldn't even touch the clothes; the blade was held back by an invisible, muddy force.
"What kind of ghost trick is this?!"
Some people are born with the ability to see 'aura,' while others are blind to it. Among the young Spiders, only Machi could naturally perceive it. It was that quality that had led Lotus to notice her beautiful eyes and, after Sarasa's death, recommend her to the Uzuki Forest to learn Nen.
[Ten]: The technique of wrapping aura around the body.
The milky-white aura seemed to be tinged with a faint crimson hue, likely due to his training in [Flame Breathing]. Kastro had been wary of Nobunaga the entire time. The moment the sword moved, he had manifested [Ten] to protect his vitals.
The youth stood there, calm and composed—just as Uvogin would one day stand against the Mafia, letting bullets and RPGs rain down on him without a scratch. The sight left Sarasa, who was being held back by Shalnark and Pakunoda, completely stunned.
"Uvi... Nobu... He's a monster... He's a monster!"
No wonder Chrollo didn't want her to come. No wonder Shalnark and Pakunoda had stayed quiet. "You guys knew all along, didn't you?!" Sarasa suddenly realized. She stared blankly at Chrollo.
Chrollo kept his head down, silent. Words fail to teach what an event teaches in an instant.
The boy, his black hair not yet slicked back, stood quietly to the side, watching. Uvogin and Nobunaga got up, smashed, stabbed, and were beaten back again. This continued until...
The two of them collapsed on the ground, devoid of strength. Kastro grabbed them by their heads, one in each hand, and began dragging them toward the depths of the church. Chrollo finally spoke to Shalnark and Pakunoda. "Let her go."
He followed behind Kastro with a bowed head.
"Do I have to go?" Sarasa asked, trotting to catch up with Chrollo the moment she was released.
Shalnark and Pakunoda shared a look.
Pakunoda, her chest heaving slightly, didn't look back. "You don't have to."
She followed Sarasa.
Only Shalnark was left at the congee stall. Facing the Zoldyck butlers—who hadn't even flinched when Uvogin traded punches—he instinctively shrunk his neck. "Wait for me!" he shouted.
He greased his heels and scrambled away from the stall to catch up.
Step... step...
Footsteps echoed through the vast plaza of the church.
Nobunaga and Uvogin were being dragged along, their bodies leaving two shallow trails in the dirt.
The swordsman was a mess, his face swollen like a pig's head. His sword was gone, his clothes were torn, and a patch of chest hair was visible through the rags. Like a dying dog, he managed to work his throat and croak, "Can I ask a question?"
"Just to give me peace before I die."
"Speak," Kastro replied.
"Why couldn't my blade cut you?"
"Because of Nen."
"Nen?"
"Yes."
"Hahaha... so that's it!" Uvogin laughed with a voice like a broken gong. The moment he opened his mouth, a spray of blood erupted, and his body began to twitch.
"So I didn't lose to you... I lost to this 'Nen'..."