Then came bullets—each one split cleanly in half.
"Viiiiing—"
A sharp sword cry rang out.
Yubashiri seemed to feel Roy's mood. The snow-white blade flushed with an angry red. Even without Roy consciously directing it, it kept cutting down every bullet headed his way—like the sword had grown eyes.
Behind a tree not far off, Lotus's beautiful eyes narrowed.
"That's insane swordsmanship…"
"Did you find out who he is? Where he came from?"
"Sh-sh-sh—"
Halved bullets fell with mirror-smooth cross-sections. A few stray ones nearly clipped the hidden onlookers and made them flinch.
Lotus flicked her gaze sideways and immediately recognized them.
The man with the high bridge and deep-set eyes—his hooked nose looked sharp enough to kill—wore a dark suit and a face carved from ice. Codename Executioner. The right-hand man under Fourth Elder 'Human Collector' George Wood: Mark Wayne.
Then the woman in the red waves of hair spilling to her waist—full breasts, wide hips, an S-curve that screamed temptation. Yet her pretty face carried an almost innocent sweetness. When she noticed Lotus looking, she puckered and blew a kiss, smiling like poison in perfume.
Lotus frowned. Eve Valentine. Of course that shameless vixen showed up too.
Lotus hadn't even smoothed her brow when a light laugh sounded behind her.
She spun—
and found someone had appeared atop the thick tree trunk beside her without a sound.
A boy, fourteen or fifteen. Wooden sandals, kimono, a rope belt like a wandering ronin—except he wasn't wearing a sword. He squatted there loose and lazy, arms hanging, like he'd always been part of the scenery.
Lotus's pupils tightened. Her expression turned grave as she spoke his name.
"…Ōtsuka Yū."
She slid a step away from him without making it obvious.
"How he is, you can ask him yourself."
The young ronin only smiled, unconcerned. He glanced at the suited man and the red-haired woman.
Mark Wayne and Eve Valentine both immediately dipped into a respectful bow.
Even they hadn't expected an Elder Council member to personally come sniffing around the North District.
"So good…" Ōtsuka Yū murmured, watching Roy stroll through gunfire, Yubashiri carving bullets apart as he advanced toward Guzman's mansion. Lotus's coldness didn't bother him at all.
He smiled at her. "I'm short a blade. What do you think of the one he's holding?"
He pointed at Yubashiri.
A streak of sword light flashed—whether intentional or not, it clipped the tree clean through. Crack. The trunk split and fell.
Ōtsuka Yū landed lightly as the tree went down, laughing.
"Hey, hey—Priest, I was joking. No need to take it that seriously."
He slipped a hand into his robe, squinting at Roy.
Roy, back turned to them, stroked Yubashiri as if soothing it. "Don't be mad. I'll cut him down sooner or later. I promise."
"Viiiing—"
Another sword cry.
Bankai.
Yubashiri flared red, ignited—then erupted into a roaring sea of flame. Roy gripped it and casually swung once.
A thin, pitch-black line—devouring light and heat—formed in an instant and swept out.
It crossed the guards at the gate, and every one of them—men and guns alike—was cut clean off at the root.
Heads flew.
Dozens of heads rolled.
The terrifying part was that bodies stayed upright for a heartbeat—life snuffed out before they even realized it. No blood sprayed. The wounds were instantly charred shut, the heat so extreme it forced the bleeding to stop.
[Life Energy +5 +7 +4 +10 +12 +15…]
The system's chimes played a funeral hymn of blood.
In every shadowed corner, someone sucked in a breath.
Ōtsuka Yū's smile vanished. Mark Wayne's brow creased. Eve Valentine—shaken—pressed a hand to her chest and pouted at Lotus.
"Baby, come comfort me~"
Lotus glided away from Eve's forced, suffocating curves, then looked at Ōtsuka Yū with a cold curl of her lips.
"Bolton and Ilya weren't useless. If they can die… others can die too."
"Shh." The ronin feigned innocence, raising a finger. "Don't let Guzman hear that or he'll be upset."
Lotus, veil hiding her face, turned away in disgust and focused forward.
The headless guards finally "remembered" they were dead. As Roy walked between them, they toppled one after another—
thud… thud… thud…
like wheat stalks flattened by oppressive heat.
"Kastro."
"Yes."
"Hold the entrance. Nobody in. Nobody out."
"Yes!"
Kastro watched Roy step inside. Then he turned—
silver hair swaying, standing like a stone at the mansion gates with dozens of corpses at his feet—
and blocked Mark Wayne, Eve Valentine, and Ōtsuka Yū outside.
A gust of wind lifted Kastro's bangs… and pressed down the restless urge in everyone watching to make a move.
"So domineering…"
Ōtsuka Yū's lips curled. "I like that."
His robe sleeve shook once.
"Kids—dinner time."
rustle rustle rustle—
Tens of thousands of insects burst from his sleeve, becoming dozens of black swarms that surged toward the headless bodies at Kastro's feet.
Ōtsuka Yū smiled at Kastro. "Don't misunderstand. You don't need those corpses. Might as well feed my children."
The insects plunged their long proboscises down.
Kastro's brow furrowed. He sensed a thin thread of Nen on those tiny bodies. He clenched his right hand, Ten rising—contained, ready.
Ōtsuka Yū, suspected Manipulator. Nen ability: Parasites.
He controls mosquito-like Nen bugs that burrow into a host and drain their aura to strengthen him.
In the Zoldyck estate—Kukuroo Mountain—Tsubone's compiled intel lay scattered on Silva's desk, and on one page was a photo of the young ronin smiling as he toyed with insects.
Below it, there was a note quoting him:
> "The bugs are me, and I am the bugs. Humans are nothing but hosts and the hosted."
"Psshk—"
Proboscises pierced skin, sank into flesh, began to suck—
…and then something went wrong.
Outside Guzman's mansion, Kastro watched closely. Suddenly he noticed something off.
No blood. No tissue. Not even a wisp of "aura" from deep inside.
Nothing flowed into the insects.
Even Ōtsuka Yū—far more sensitive than Kastro—froze.
"…They missed."
My bugs… missed?
The swarms wavered, confused. They couldn't understand why the corpses held zero life-energy.
The insects spiraled in chaotic circles, on the verge of collapsing.
Ōtsuka Yū's hand snapped—and the bugs retreated back into his sleeve.
His casual expression was gone. A shadow fell across his face.
"That priest… is vicious," he muttered. "He wrung them dry."
Yū, Lotus, and Mark Wayne all silently raised En toward the mansion, trying to "see" inside.
Eve Valentine—unable to use En—stomped in frustration, hips and thighs rippling in a way that would have been hypnotic if it weren't so out of place.
Inside, footsteps echoed.
Flame burned. The sword sang.
Roy—after ordering Kastro to guard the door—walked alone through the mansion's wide hall with his blade in hand.
And he immediately saw him:
Green hair.
Guzman.
Reclining on a leather sofa, watching Roy approach like he'd been waiting.
"You came…"
"You shouldn't have come…"
"I didn't invite you, so I guess this is… trespassing."
Guzman dropped his lazy act and poured himself red wine, watching Roy coldly over the rim of the glass.
"Priest… you missed me already?"
"Or do you miss my candy?"
Nen surged. Candy blocks spilled from his palm and scattered across the floor.
From a corner, several "living corpses" shuffled out—emaciated, bent, barely human. But the instant they saw candy, dead eyes flared with a faint light.
They crawled, rolled, scrambled for it like dogs on bones, screaming hoarsely:
"Mine… it's all mine… I want sugar—give it to me!"
They stuffed candy into their mouths.
The aura above their heads—barely visible—thinned… thinned… thinned…
A small girl didn't get any. A man behind her slammed into her, knocking her head into the edge of a coffee table.
Blood burst.
Her body convulsed once—
and as the last trace of aura flickered out, her life went with it.
"What a shame," Guzman sighed from the sofa, smiling at Roy.
As the "corpses" fought over candy, Guzman stood. Carelessly, he stepped on the dead child's head—
crunch—
and sipped his wine, smiling.
"Summer's coming, Priest. Aren't you hot?"
Flames surged out of Roy like a tide.
Bankai-Yubashiri's red deepened—redder than a Nichirin blade ever turned.
"Hot?"
Roy lowered his blade tip. Szzzt. The luxury marble floor melted open into a hole.
He looked at Guzman with perfect calm.
"Wait a bit. In a moment, you won't feel hot anymore."
Then he raised his arm—
and sent a flying flame slash streaking straight for Guzman's heart.
The green-haired boy drank wine like blood, chuckling softly.
He lifted a finger. "Stop."
A zip-tie whipped out from his fingertip and wrapped Roy's right hand, binding him—man and blade—in place.
Stainless Steel Zip-Tie: Conjured restraint made from stamped steel ties. Extremely binding.
A "gift" stolen from one of Guzman's own hollowed victims.
But even as the tie—reinforced with Ken—locked Roy down, Guzman's brow tightened.
The aura he was spending to hold Roy was evaporating at a terrifying rate, burned away by the heat pouring off Roy's sword arm.
"Shadow," Guzman said sharply. "Move. You know what to do."
Firelight threw Guzman's shadow long across the floor.
A raspy voice answered from within it. "Leave it to me, Guzman-sama…"
A shape slid out of the shadow and raced along the ground to Roy's feet. Halfway, it picked up a dropped candy—
then popped up from Roy's own shadow, becoming a gaunt, black-robed Nen user.
It reached for Roy's throat, trying to force Roy's mouth open and stuff the candy in.
But—
BANG.
Before either of them could do it—before Shadow could pry Roy's jaw—Roy exploded.
Shadow froze.
It didn't even understand what had happened.
Then Guzman screamed, "Idiot—DODGE!"
Too late.
Shadow felt cold at its chest.
It looked down—
and saw a bright blade tip piercing through its heart, punching straight out its front.
It tried to turn—
and met Roy's eyes.
Calm. Cold.
And behind that calm—
a faint, creeping red… and the dark spin of three tomoe.
Its head tilted. Life left it.
As it died, it heard Roy's quiet voice and finally understood.
Roy flicked his blade and hurled Shadow away like trash. Then he raised his gaze to Guzman.
"Shadows?" Roy said, voice flat. "Sorry. I know a little Shadow Clone Jutsu too."
Shadow's death rattle faded.
[Life Energy +37]
Thud.
Another body hit the floor.
Roy's black hair lifted in the wind of his own heat.
He spun the blade in a clean half-circle, leveled it at Guzman—
and spoke softly.
"Your turn."
~~~
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