"Your family's," Roy answered honestly.
Zigg glanced at the youth's jet-black hair, then swept his hand in one sharp motion, slicing a flying piece of wooden beam cleanly in half.
"Kid, my son is not this weak. He can at least grasp Ren."
The Emission-type users were most skilled with Ren and Hatsu. Grandfather Zeno, an Emitter, could release "Dragon Dive," capable of covering an entire city—a superb display of power.
"Hmm..."
Roy's aura shield trembled like a bubble about to burst under the sandworm's Ren impact.
Zigg wasn't wrong. Roy truly could barely persist. One minute and ten seconds—his limit.
"Idiot, Ren is not used like this," Zigg said flatly. "You face whatever impact comes, then erect your defense on that side. Creating one shroud to wrap yourself is conceptually sound, but it's the biggest waste of Nen."
Unfortunately, his instruction came too late. A beast corpse crashed down. Roy's vision went black, and his consciousness severed from the game, leaving him to awaken in his cognitive world.
Soft sand beneath his feet. The endless cognitive sea stretching before him. Roy lay there, carefully pondering Zigg's words. He repeated them in his mind several times until the meaning crystallized.
Nen's form transformation. Nen could be drawn long or compressed. It could be shaped into membranes to wrap objects. Ten was the foundation. Through imagination, I could compress my aura into a disc, concentrating it on my front side instead of spreading it everywhere.
Roy stood and pushed open the Dark Continent Gate again.
"Quick, lie down!" The familiar shout came.
This time, Roy lay on the ground but didn't rush to open all his aura nodes. Instead, he concentrated, guiding his aura along his feet, up through his legs, across his abdomen, through his chest cavity, up his neck, and finally through the crown of his head. He expelled it, forming one concentrated Nen shield that blocked his front.
Compared to the shroud, this shield abandoned the other three sides. Utilization and density both showed obvious improvement.
Ten seconds. Thirty seconds. One minute. One minute and thirty seconds.
Zigg's eye looked over. "Kid, you comprehend quickly."
The game reset at one minute and ten seconds, showing slight progress.
Roy felt lighter. He guessed he could persist longer. "All thanks to your guidance."
The notebook Zigg had given him was gathering dust in a drawer. He'd need to study it more carefully.
"Don't celebrate too early," Zigg said. His own Nen shield thickened and widened, presenting an eerie iron-gray color like polished steel. It rang like a bell as sand and stone impacted it.
After his warning, Roy fixed his gaze forward.
"Roar!" The sky darkened. A tail swept across, breaking landing ships. The massive sandworm stooped and rushed forward, carrying wind and Ren that seemed to climb several grades through the ground.
The effect on Roy's Ren was immediate. His freshly condensed shield began shaking, cracks spreading across it.
Roy strained to increase his Nen output, tilting his head toward Zigg, who remained relaxed behind his iron shield.
"Why is your shield so thick? What's the secret?"
Zigg spoke simply. "Twenty years. That's how long this shield took to build."
Twenty years of effort. Twenty years of practice.
Roy fell silent. His shield shattered instantly. A broken mast struck him, and he flew backward.
His vision went black. With his last conscious moment, one thought surfaced: Twenty years... that's something I can't comprehend.
He persisted for one minute and forty seconds this time.
After repeating this cycle seven times, Roy's best lasted one minute and forty-five seconds. He withdrew from the conscious world, bringing his exhausted body back to reality.
The moisture-proof airtight door sealed shut behind him with a soft hiss.
The passage's slightly damp air filled his lungs as Roy took a deep breath. He squatted down, plucked a chrysanthemum petal, and chewed it. The juice's bitterness helped ground his consciousness and body. Then he stood and left the underground chamber.
By 8 PM, the sky had darkened early due to clouds. Gotoh had lit several candles on the dinner table, their soft light making the meal more inviting.
Roy bit into a fried pork chop and flipped through Zigg's notebook, inquiring about Ren information while eating. He raised his head to look at Gotoh. "Gotoh, show me your Ren."
"Ah?" The butler, wiping spilled wax from the table, straightened. "Of course."
Milky-white Nen surged out, wrapping Gotoh from head to foot. Roy examined the color and form carefully. They were similar to his own, but compared to Grandfather Zigg, they were worlds apart. Roy felt disappointed but didn't show it.
Instead, he calmly asked Gotoh to put it away. In his mind, he was already considering teaching Gotoh the Water Breathing technique.
After all, Gotoh was one of his own people. He couldn't neglect him when he cared for others.
Roy finished dinner and lay down fully clothed. Gotoh cleaned the remnants and blew out the candles. Darkness accompanied him quietly.
The youth stared at the ceiling, his mind occupied with strengthening Ren, until sleepiness pulled him under.
The familiar falling sensation came. Colorful dream passages passed beneath him. When he opened his eyes, he stood in the Demon Slayer world, Makomo's bright eyes flickering before him.
"Nah, I discovered something—Eiichiro's grown so fast!" Makomo gestured to her own height, then measured Roy's head and feet. In just several months, he'd grown significantly. Truly enviable.
"What's strange about that?" Shinsuke hung from the house beam, dangling one leg. "At his age, with good nutrition, it's normal."
Fukuda glanced at him. "Then why are you so short?"
This struck a nerve.
Wind whistled through the wooden house.
Sabito watched as Roy climbed from bed, struck by how the youth now stood nearly as tall as himself. He shook his head in quiet amazement. "This is talent," he said. "Everything about him is exceptional. He reminds me of Himejima Gyomei—the Stone Pillar."
"Stop," Makomo protested on Roy's behalf. "Eiichiro is not a monk."
"I didn't say he was," Sabito countered.
"You implied it."
"I didn't—"
They quarreled in the wind and snow of early morning.
Roy tilted his head toward the kitchen. Sakonji Urokodaki boiled congee alone, his back figure desolate and lonely. All his disciples had accompanied him over the years, yet he endured in solitude.
Roy spoke: "Master, the year-end festival approaches. I want to return home for a visit."
But before that, I want to give you something precious.
Roy's eyes flickered toward Sabito and Makomo as he silently added: That much, at least, I can do.