"Bzz—"
The rotor blades shredded the air, kicking up a constant droning hum…
On Flight K8451 bound for the Republic of Padokea, inside VIP Suite 9—
Roy sat by the window on a plush sofa. Under Gotoh's attentive service, he sipped black tea at an unhurried pace. On the rosewood table in front of him lay an open book—Grandpa Zigg's cultivation notes.
The pages were turned to page 27, where the old man had clearly written his understanding of "the various forms of nen nature transformation." According to him—
"Nen is complex, and nen is simple."
Complex, because it's a composite of the human psyche and physical potential—most vividly reflected in 'will,' 'the heart's reflection,' 'soul strength,' and related elements.
Simple, because it can still be divided into 'yin' and 'yang,' and further into the 'five elements'—which then become the foundation of all the myriad things that exist in the world.
As for the part of nen abilities beyond raw aura quantity—the so-called "mechanisms"—that belonged to another layer entirely, tied to Vows and Limitations.
Roy took another sip of tea, thinking back to his earlier talk with Ging.
To understand an "object," to feel for it deeply—only then did the possibility of "manifesting" or "reverse-manifesting" it truly exist. He asked Gotoh for a pen, then leaned over the blank margin of the notes, paused for a few seconds, and added his own thoughts.
It wasn't so much "deep feeling for the object" as it was—
You must at least have a basic grasp of the most fundamental building blocks of this world: yin, yang, and the five elements.
Just like Wood Release was born from combining Water Release and Earth Release, then binding it together with the sun as catalyst—
Could other bloodline limits in the Naruto world be formed the same way?
Roy set down the pen, sinking into thought.
"Whoosh…"
Outside the window, clouds drifted through a bright blue sky. As the airship climbed higher, the temperature dropped. A gust swept past, forming a thin film of condensation on the window that slid down in beads.
Gotoh quietly lifted Roy's cup to top it off with more hot tea. His fingers had just touched the rim when Roy waved him off.
"Sir, the tea's gone cold," Gotoh explained.
"Then heat it."
Roy didn't look like he did anything. He simply wrapped a hand around the cup, focused, and split off two strands of nen—one fire, one water—and fed them into the black tea.
The tea visibly warmed. In under two seconds it began to boil, bubbles roiling across the surface.
Fire + Water = Boil.
That was Boil Release—the kekkei genkai of the Five-Tails, Kokuō.
Gotoh quickly warned, "Sir, boiling water can scald your throat. You should let it cool a bit before drinking."
Roy nodded. "Then cool it."
Still holding the cup, he shifted his focus—this time linking wind and water, sending two new threads of nen into the tea.
The steaming tea immediately quieted, as if tossed into a blizzard. It stiffened, then—under a cold draft—froze solid into a lump of iced tea.
Wind + Water = Ice.
That was Ice Release, the kekkei genkai used by Haku of the Yuki Clan.
Roy tipped the cup upside-down. The frozen tea wouldn't budge.
He laughed and asked Gotoh, "Want an ice pop?"
Gotoh's cheeks twitched. "It'll crack my teeth."
"Fair. Too cold—hits the head," Roy agreed. He refocused again, a red glow flaring briefly around his hand. The iced tea thawed instantly—neither hot nor cold, just right.
He brought it to his lips and took a sip. Refreshing.
In that moment he also understood—
Fire + Earth = Lava.
That was Lava Release, the specialty of the Four-Tails, Son Gokū.
Gotoh watched in silence, seeing everything. When Roy finished, he refilled the cup, pushed up his glasses, and said seriously:
"Sir… Water Divination says it can't judge you accurately."
"Your nen's… too inclusive."
Water Divination was the Shingen-ryu method for testing nen category:
Enhancement: water volume increases
Transmutation: the water's taste changes
Conjuration: crystals appear in the water
Emission: the water changes color
Manipulation: the water's surface moves (especially with a leaf)
Specialization: anything outside the above
But Roy could make water boil, freeze, melt—change its state at will. Gotoh had never seen anything like it.
"This isn't Water Divination," Roy said, still reading, not bothering to explain further.
At Gotoh's current stage, his focus should be polishing higher-level applications. Going deeper now would just waste time.
Gotoh, having felt the gap between himself and Reazor after their duel, understood where his weakness truly lay. Since Roy didn't elaborate, he didn't press.
As usual, he reported updates from home—then brought up something Roy had previously ordered: sending a chef team into Meteor City.
Gotoh glanced out the window and asked cautiously, "Sir, the flight transfers in Yorknew. Do you want to stop by Meteor City for a bit?"
Flying from Yorbian to Padokea meant passing through Yorknew and the Republic of Meimba. The layover would be nearly half a day—enough time for a quick visit.
But with Taiyi stationed there, Roy didn't need to go in person. And Taiyi had been doing well.
A string of system prompts chimed in Roy's head:
[Potential follower detected…]
Uvogin — Loyalty +5 (from admiration of your follower Huashi Dōrō)
[Potential follower detected…]
Nobunaga — Loyalty +5 (from admiration of your follower Huashi Dōrō)
[Potential follower detected…]
Sarasa — Loyalty +5 (from admiration of your follower Huashi Dōrō)
…
[Notice: Your follower Kastro, through diligent effort, has mastered "Flame Breathing: Total Concentration Constant."]
Faith Power +1
Roy's lips curved faintly. He split off a sliver of focus and synced with Taiyi—sharing vision and memory.
In Meteor City, after Roy (Taiyi) and Kastro killed Bolton and Ilya and officially moved into West District 4, they began distributing food and preaching.
The once-taboo 4th Street slowly opened up, drawing more and more curious onlookers.
Curiosity, suspicion—even hostility.
Because in Meteor City, a place that worshiped the law of the jungle, the idea that someone could simply say "Praise the Sun" and receive bread and porridge for free from a soup tent outside a church…
was absurd.
"I'm telling you, that priest's either brain-dead or just plain broken. Who does charity for free—money to burn?"
"Is the bread good?"
"Good!"
"Is the porridge good?"
"Good!"
"Then what're we waiting for? You said he's brain-dead—let's rob the tent, tie him up, take his cash, split it fifty-fifty!"
"Good idea! Once you come in, you don't leave—no one takes so much as a breadcrumb out of Meteor City!"
Group after group marched in "full of ambition"…
…and stumbled back out "black-and-blue."
Until the third day Roy moved into the ruined church—
Even Uvogin and Nobunaga joined the chorus of "let's go to 4th Street and kidnap that rich idiot."
"There's free bread—why wouldn't you take it?"
Yorknew, 3rd Street, the True Lord Church.
Uvogin had just finished rehearsing Clean-Up Squad. He clutched his rumbling stomach and glared at Chrollo and Shalnark, who were blocking the way. Then he shouted at Nobunaga:
"Hey, old man—what do you say?"
Nobunaga's long horse face tightened. He wore a bathrobe scavenged from some trash pile, loose and sloppy, his rusted wooden sword hanging crooked at his waist. He stepped forward to stand beside Uvogin, then answered without even looking at him:
"I'm only one year older than you. Call me 'old man' again and I'll cut you."
"One year older is still older!" Uvogin laughed loudly, puffing himself up like a bear, looming over Chrollo and Shalnark. With Nobunaga beside him, his confidence surged.
Then a small figure came stomping in—short, sharp, all attitude, with two blond ponytails swinging.
"Uvogin! Nobunaga! Are you two bullying little Chrollo again?"
It was Sarasa.
Malnourished, with sickly straw-colored hair and a body as thin as a frost-bent weed—yet her presence was somehow enormous.
She marched straight between them, planting herself in front of Chrollo like a shield: If you're going to fight, go through me first.
Uvogin and Nobunaga both froze.
They actually didn't move.
Uvogin was so wound up he looked ready to jump out of his skin, but he was terrified of accidentally shoving Sarasa too hard and snapping her in half. He could only glare and shout:
"Stop blocking me! They're the ones being unfair!"
"There's free bread on 4th Street! They won't go, and they won't let anyone else go!"
Sarasa spun around. "Is it true, Chrollo?"
She looked from Chrollo to Shalnark to Pakunoda.
The three of them remembered what they'd seen from the top of that massive trash mound—remembered it too well.
What kind of sword technique could draw fire with it?
What kind of fire could erase an entire church—and people—with no screams left behind?
Bolton and Ilya's silent, horrified faces still haunted Chrollo's nights. He'd woken up sweating more than once since then, and his rehearsals had been a mess.
Silence swallowed the prayer hall.
Chrollo finally exhaled and told Uvogin, Nobunaga, and Sarasa the truth:
"It's too dangerous. That priest—and his attendant—aren't normal people."
And he didn't say the other part out loud:
Yesterday, while cleaning at Elder Berus's mansion, Chrollo overheard that Bolton and Ilya's deaths had left a power vacuum on 4th Street. The entire block—including that priest—had become a piece of meat in the eyes of bigger predators.
Not just Berus.
Other elders too.
And behind them—far more forces.
A bloodstorm was coming for the priest and his attendant.
But Uvogin wasn't listening anymore.
"Sarasa, see? He's a coward!"
He lunged past her, shoved Shalnark hard enough to nearly topple him, and stormed out.
He was exactly like canon—storming off on his own to pick a fight, like when he later went after Kurapika.
Only this time, Nobunaga silently followed him, hand on his crooked sword.
Sarasa hesitated, glanced back at Chrollo… then chased after them.
"Uvogin! Nobunaga! Wait for me!"
Her ponytails flicked as she ran.
The huge prayer hall emptied in a blink—leaving only Chrollo, Shalnark, and Pakunoda.
"See?" Shalnark muttered, fiddling with a game controller he'd scavenged. It was missing a battery. "Told you. Saying it doesn't matter—Uvogin never listens."
Chrollo was silent for a long moment.
Then he moved.
He headed after them toward 4th Street.
Shalnark reached out. "Hey—where're you going?"
He grabbed air.
Pakunoda gave him a cool look—like you know exactly why—then followed as well.
Only Shalnark remained, standing there with the controller in his hand, staring blankly.
Maybe the hall felt colder with everyone gone.
He took a deep breath, shoved the controller into his coat, and ran after them.
~~~
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