Summer in the Republic of Padokea was hotter than usual.
A little before five in the morning, a sliver of light was already creeping up from the horizon. Before the heat could fully rise, Roy got up early, threw on a tank top and shorts, and started his morning run around all of Kukuroo Mountain.
From the family castle deep in the mountain, down past the butler's villa halfway up, to the security post at the foot, then back the same way—close to ten kilometers. By the time he returned, he was drenched as if hauled from a river, sweaty head to toe—but oddly refreshed.
Science says running triggers endorphins and brings a rush of pleasure…but after a few short breaths, Roy felt none of the joy he expected. Instead, he frowned, a bit frustrated.
The reason was simple: as the eldest son of the world-famous, fearsome Zoldyck family—the mere name makes people tremble—and also a transmigrator from Earth in a previous life, he'd recently noticed his physique gains slowing down.
Sure, training hits plateaus. In the beginning, whether you're building muscle or losing fat, results come fast; after that, progress declines and stabilizes at some baseline. But that applies to adults, not to a child like Roy—only eight years old, still growing fast.
What's more, he's a Zoldyck, born with better physical specs than most. Only the black hair didn't match—he hadn't perfectly inherited the family's signature silver-haired trait…
Still, living by the rule "slow is smooth, smooth is fast," Roy adjusted his mindset well—no impatience, no discouragement. Back in his bedroom, he took a quick shower.
When he came out, he'd changed into a clean training outfit and sat at the dining table.
It was six a.m. As an old wooden pendulum clock in the corner chimed, Butler Gotoh arrived right on time, wheeling in a cart and laying out a hearty breakfast.
Cream of mushroom soup. Bacon sandwiches. A fresh salad of foraged Kukuroo Mountain greens with eggs and a drizzle of rice vinegar. A glass of milk to finish. Perfectly balanced nutrition—just not much flavor.
Roy picked up a sandwich, dipped it in the soup, and took a bite. While listening to Gotoh report the day's training plan, he quietly opened his status panel and studied it.
[Name: Roy Zoldyck]
[Bone Age: Seven years, eleven months]
[Physique: 10 → 10.001 (Note: average human = 1)]
[Nen: Aura nodes unopened; awakening pending]
[Combat Experience: Lv. 2 (15/100)]
[Applied Techniques — Silent Gait: Proficient (78/100); Rhythm Echo: Proficient (64/100); The Snake Awakens: Novice (83/100) (Note: Applied techniques rank by mastery: Novice, Proficient, Mastered, Perfected)]
[Title: Uninitiated rookie, a "tender sapling" prone to early demise]
Tender sapling, huh? That appraisal really doesn't pull any punches… Roy chomped hard on the sandwich to vent his annoyance.
Right on cue, Gotoh cleared his throat and reminded him softly, "Young Master, milady's been in a poor mood lately. Best to be careful."
"Milady" meant Kikyo, Roy's birth mother. Three straight children, all black-haired—not one silver-haired. In a household obsessed with "the right heir," that's an unforgivable "sin." Her anxiety, even irritability, was understandable.
Fortunately, the next one—Killua—wouldn't disappoint her.
"Milluki's a good kid," Roy said casually after finishing the sandwich and taking a sip of milk. "Aside from being a bit fat, a bit ugly, small-eyed, and farting too much, he's fine. Mother may not like him, but I don't mind."
Gotoh: "..."
He fell briefly silent. It was hard to tell whether the young master was praising Master Milluki or roasting him. And given that the young master had never liked Master Illumi—always saying he's cold and hollow-eyed like a ghost—Gotoh decided it was safest to pretend he heard nothing.
He switched topics. "Young Master, the master has decided it's time to open your Nen."
The young butler, still beardless, pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses and said solemnly, "It's set for eight o'clock tonight… He'll be waiting for you in the training hall."
Roy's expression paused, then returned to normal. He drew a napkin and wiped his mouth with studied nonchalance, though his emotions inevitably stirred beneath the calm…
The bad news: after years of watching him, everyone from Silva to Zeno had realized he was merely an ordinary genius. Start Nen early, and maybe he'd become a competent assassin—but heir to the Zoldyck line? That was wishful thinking on his part.
The good news: if he opened Nen and awakened as an Enhancer, it might make up for his "frail" constitution.
In any case, the decision was made.
At eight tonight, whether Roy wanted it or not, he would take his first step into the world of Nen.
And that step was the one he'd awaited most in nearly eight years since being reborn into the Zoldycks.
A faint, hard-to-catch gleam of ambition flashed deep in the boy's eyes. He soon finished breakfast.
On Silva's orders, there was, for once, no training that day. Roy spent it meditating and regulating his breath, tuning himself to peak condition—until night fell and the moon rose.
He stood, left his room by the flicker of wall lamps, and followed the quiet, shadowed corridor to the training hall.
Knock, knock, knock…
"Enter."
A powerful voice came from inside.
The door swung open, revealing a corner of the room.
A towering man stood with his back to the door, legs spread in a full split atop two heavy stone pedestals. A waterfall of silver hair poured down his back. The aura that leaked from him—unintended—was so strong it pressed the breath from your chest.
Silva Zoldyck: a top-tier assassin. He once single-handedly killed No. 8 of the A-class criminal group known as the Phantom Troupe and walked away. In the Chimera Ant arc, he descended from the sky and one-punched a squadron leader-class leopard. Every time Roy saw his father, he felt that crushing pressure and suffocating sense of danger firsthand.
It wasn't father versus son. It was more like a higher-dimensional being crushing a lower-dimensional one.
Roy steadied himself, took a deep breath, and said, "Father."
Bang—the door thudded shut.
Silva turned; his gaze cut like a blade. "Come here."
Roy stepped forward in silence—
—and ran straight into a fan-sized palm, flicked out lightly yet as fast as lightning, slapping flat onto his chest!
Crack!
A gust born of intensely condensed Ren shot through Roy's body and, without slowing, hammered the wall behind him. The thick masonry spider-webbed on impact—
—and at the same instant, a certain shackle inside Roy shattered.