Meteor City never believed in tears. It only believed in fists and strength.
Uvogin was convinced… and so was Nobunaga. Being outclassed was just being outclassed—nothing more to say. If they had any regret at all, it was this: when they glanced back at the silent Chrollo, they realized they should've listened to him earlier.
"Thud… thud…" Heavy footsteps kept echoing.
Kastro dragged them along like dead dogs in front. Sarasa, panicking, grabbed Chrollo's small hand like it was a lifeline, pleading as she followed.
"Little Chrollo—you know them, don't you?"
"You have a way, don't you?"
What way did he have? What could he possibly do?
IQ? Perspective? Experience… in front of absolute power, it was all bullshit.
Chrollo kept a dark face and didn't answer. He remembered what Boss Berus had warned him yesterday:
"Tell your little brothers not to go near 4th Street for a while. I got word some scary people are about to show up."
Chrollo had still asked, naive: "Stronger than Bolton and Ilia?"
Berus's answer had been immediate: "Stronger than them."
That same day, Berus patted his shoulder and said heavily, "Kid, you've seen how terrifying Nen users are. I can tell you this for sure—Meteor City isn't just a garbage dump. It's also someone's laboratory and playground. Kill one Bolton, and more Boltons will crawl out—stronger ones."
"And behind them… is something I wouldn't even dare touch."
Then Berus kicked him out, unwilling to say more.
But if Berus "wouldn't even dare touch" them, that told Chrollo one thing: the depths behind Meteor City were bottomless.
"I can't promise anything, and I don't have that kind of power. If you trust me, don't panic—watch my eyes and follow my lead." Chrollo squeezed Sarasa's hand back and raised one finger to his lips, signaling silence.
They followed Kastro across the square, through the gates, and into the prayer hall.
Unlike the True Lord Church, this prayer hall—after being melted by near-ten-thousand-degree heat—was completely empty.
At the very front, only one person remained: dressed like a priest, holding a broom, calmly sweeping the floor in steady strokes.
"Praise the Sun." Kastro stopped before Roy, tossed Uvogin and Nobunaga aside, grabbed a rag himself, and started wiping the glass like it was just another chore.
Chrollo, Sarasa, and the late-arriving Pakunoda and Shalnark exchanged looks, at a loss.
Silence swallowed the hall—only the sound of sweeping and glass being scrubbed echoed back at them.
The kids—especially Uvogin and Nobunaga slumped on the floor—swallowed hard. They were so tense they could hear their own heartbeats.
At some point, Roy seemed to notice them.
He looked over with a smile. "Sit."
His free hand lifted and pointed casually at the space in front of Chrollo and Sarasa.
Dead wood bloomed into life.
The stone floor cracked open with a few small holes, saplings burst out, branches spread, wove, knotted—then in the blink of an eye, several vine chairs formed and settled neatly in front of Chrollo, Sarasa, Pakunoda, and Shalnark.
For a moment, all five of them—including Uvogin and Nobunaga collapsed on the side—stared so hard their brains stalled out.
"Scrrk… scrrk…" The rag squealed against the glass, a teeth-aching sound.
Roy didn't care that they were frozen. He tossed the broom into a corner, drew his finger through the air, and used Wood Release again—forming a wooden table, more chairs, and several teacups—set right in front of them.
Only then did he sit across the table. He tapped a cup; water flowed from his fingertip into it, steam rising. This was "Nen nature transformation: Water," i.e., "Water Release."
"My lord told you to sit. Didn't you hear?" Kastro snapped, irritated.
Shalnark's legs went weak and he dropped into the chair first. Then Pakunoda. Then Sarasa. And finally Chrollo, taking a deep breath and forcing himself to stay calm as he sat.
[Notification: Your "potential believer" Uvogin… out of awe at your methods, Loyalty +5…
Note: Loyalty born of fear.]
[Notification: Your "potential believers" Nobunaga, Sarasa… out of awe at your methods, Loyalty +5…
Note: Loyalty born of fear.]
[Notification: Detected three "potential believers"—Chrollo, Shalnark, Pakunoda—Loyalty +5…
Note: Loyalty born of fear.]
Only when a person has awe do they restrain themselves. The system chimes rang out.
Roy's clone, Taiyi, smiled as he poured tea for them and said gently, "Forgive Kastro for being rude. If you weren't here to cause trouble, he wouldn't have laid a hand on you."
"It's my fault!"
"This has nothing to do with Sarasa!"
"Priest—if you're going to kill someone, kill me!" Uvogin struggled upright and shouted with everything he had. The moment he opened his mouth, blood sprayed out again, staining his chest red.
"Uvogin!" Sarasa shot to her feet—only for Chrollo's hand to press her back down, firm and unyielding.
Chrollo, faster than her, stepped up, dragged a vine chair forward, and bowed deeply to Roy.
"Father… I want to join your faith."
"And him… her… him too…"
He pointed in order: Sarasa, Pakunoda, Shalnark—then Uvogin and Nobunaga.
"We all want to join."
"Please accept us."
Then Chrollo bowed all the way down, forehead lowered.
In that vast empty hall, several gazes snapped toward him.
Sarasa, Pakunoda, Shalnark, Uvogin, Nobunaga—all stared at Chrollo in shock.
Sweat rolled down the boy's temples. He didn't speak. He didn't lift his head. He waited like a criminal awaiting judgment—each "tick-tock" of time hammering his heart.
Roy didn't even need a Heart-Worm. His En alone caught everything Chrollo was thinking:
"I have a friend… he's reckless, never listens. One day he insisted on provoking someone. I knew that person was dangerous. I tried to stop him—couldn't."
"And once he really fell into trouble… I had no choice."
"I could only swallow my pride and temporarily submit to that dangerous person—drag my friend in with me too."
"I thought… if I became their accomplice, they wouldn't keep targeting my friend."
"Chrollo…"
A faint red crept up Roy's eye corners. Still smiling, he lifted one finger and hooked it under Chrollo's chin, tilting his face up.
Three pitch-black tomoe rotated slowly in Roy's eyes. In Chrollo's pupils, he could see his own reflection.
He asked lazily, "Am I right?"
Chrollo was forced to meet the Sharingan head-on. The moment he blinked—his world spun.
When he came to again…
A black plastic bag was suddenly in his arms.
It was open.
Inside was Uvogin's head—dead eyes wide, staring straight at him.
"AHHH—!"
A scream tore out of Chrollo.
...
Republic of Padokea—inside a black car heading from the capital airport to Kukuroo Mountain.
A teasing chuckle escaped.
"Heh… crafty little spider…"
Then, a young butler's doubtful voice:
"Young master… what spider? Is there a spider in the car?"
"I'm not talking about the car."
In the back seat, linked through shared vision, Roy watched Taiyi give the dishonest Chrollo a tiny "lesson" with illusion—and harvest five loyalty points from the fear that followed.
He opened the window, watching the scenery slide backward. Up ahead, the mountains rose in layers—Kukuroo Mountain.
He stretched lazily. The car squealed to a stop at the huge gate.
Roy and Gotoh greeted Zebro with a quick nod as the butler bowed. Roy inhaled, then shoved open five gates in a row and walked through.
Boom! The Trial Gate—each door weighing sixty-four tons—opened and slammed shut again, blocking Gotoh's view.
The gatekeeper, who'd lost another patch of hair these past few days, muttered to himself:
"The young master's gotten stronger again…"
And behind the doors, he thought he saw a pair of hollow eyes—Second Young Master?!
"You still know how to come back?" Inside the gate, Roy had barely stepped in with Gotoh when he caught the stench of his "idiot little brother."
Illumi leaned against the Trial Gate with his arms folded, staring blankly like he'd been waiting for ages. A leaf fell on his head and he didn't even notice.
"Is one week a long time?" Roy turned his head and asked Gotoh.
Gotoh nervously looked at Roy, then at Illumi, then tilted his head up at the sky and muttered, "The sunlight is really nice today."
Roy: "..."
His eye twitched. He kicked Gotoh in the butt, brushed past Illumi, and casually tossed him a wooden nail.
"Your birthday present."
Illumi blinked, caught it in one hand, and stared at him. Then he shouted at Roy's back:
"My birthday is in November! It's only May!"
"You tell me—do you want it or not?"
"…I want it!"
~~~
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