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Chapter 25: Illumi's Defeat X Silva's Definition
🕑 Added 2025-10-19 10:31:15 +0000 UTCChapter 25: Illumi's Defeat X Silva's Definition
Roy could feel it instantly. A damp, cold aura clung to Illumi, unsettling and dangerous. It felt like a viper lurking in a dark, wet sewer, its tongue flicking, ready to strike at any moment.
"Congratulations," Roy said without breaking his stride, and continued his run back up the mountain.
Illumi watched him go in silence, his figure half-hidden in the shadows cast by the security station's dim light. He stood motionless until Roy's back had completely disappeared from view, then he began to follow, his face a perfect, emotionless mask.
Congratulations?
He hadn't sensed a trace of sincerity in Roy's aura.
A Nen user's aura is not a constant, milky-white energy. Its color shifts with their emotional state. Anger manifests as a burning red. Malice and killing intent appear as a deep, abyssal black. A calm, balanced state is a tranquil green.
But an emotional state of pure detachment—neither liking nor disliking, neither caring nor surprised, a state of habitual, distant observation—manifests as a refined, cool gray.
And gray was the color Illumi saw shrouding his brother. It meant that in Roy's mind, he was nothing more than a familiar stranger, someone to be kept at arm's length.
Illumi's assessment was correct. The news of his awakening had caused no ripples in Roy's mind. It was as interesting to him as a weather report. The only thing of note was how quickly Illumi had learned to contain his aura. It meant that, like him, Illumi had mastered the basics of Ten within moments of his initiation.
Narrator's Note: Ten is the art of keeping one's Aura Nodes open while allowing aura to flow around the body in a protective shroud. It is the most fundamental of the Four Major Principles of Nen.
Zzigg's notes mentioned that mastering Ten was a good measure of raw talent. Zushi, a normal prodigy, took three months. Gon and Killua, one-in-a-million talents, took mere minutes. Prince Tserriednich of the Kakin Empire, a once-in-a-billion genius, mastered it in a single second. For Roy and Illumi, benefiting from the Zoldyck bloodline, mastering it almost instantly was not particularly surprising.
The grandfather clock chimed 4:30 AM.
Roy, having finished his run and a quick shower, sat down at the dining table on schedule. Gotoh arrived with the breakfast cart. The usual: a beef burger, a side salad, and a tall glass of milk. The only new addition was a small plate of eggplant with minced meat.
"The head chef observed the Young Master in the kitchen the other day," Gotoh explained, noticing Roy's gaze. "He attempted to replicate the dish and humbly asks for your critique. If you find it unsatisfactory, I will have him dismissed."
Roy was already numb to the casual way the Zoldyck staff treated life and employment. He picked up his chopsticks, intending to give the dish a passing grade to save the chef's job. But before he could, a familiar, ghostly wind swept into the room.
Maha Zoldyck was there. He plucked a piece of eggplant from the plate and popped it in his mouth.
"Hmm... too salty," the ancient assassin mumbled, his eyes closed. "The sweetness is overpowering. And the eggplant isn't soft enough. Needs more work."
He opened his eyes, dropped the chopsticks, and vanished.
Roy and Gotoh stared at each other, speechless. The old man moved with such impossible speed, it was as if he'd just popped in to use the restroom.
"...You heard him," Roy said, breaking the silence. "Too much salt and sugar, the eggplant wasn't prepared properly, and it needed to be simmered on low heat to soften before finishing."
"Very good, Young Master. I will have him dismissed immediately."
"..." Roy shot him an exasperated look. "Is firing people your only solution? His replacement probably won't be any better. I'll write down the recipe for him. And tell someone to buy a proper cast-iron wok for the kitchen. That's an order."
"As you wish," Gotoh said with a bow. As he served Roy, he began his daily report of family happenings.
"The Mistress was quite ill the other day. She believed she was with child, but a quick Nen scan revealed it was merely food poisoning. The butler in charge of procuring vegetables was... disciplined... and then sent to Meteor City."
Roy knew his mother, Kikyo, was from Meteor City. He took a bite of his burger, offering no comment. She was truly obsessed with having Killua.
"Also," Gotoh continued, adjusting his glasses. "Young Master Illumi's eighty-win streak at Heavens Arena has been broken."
The burger was a bit rare, but Roy chewed impassively.
"His opponent was an Emitter who had apparently studied his matches and came down from a higher floor specifically to challenge him. The fight lasted nearly an hour before Young Master Illumi was knocked from the ring by a precisely aimed Nen bullet."
Gotoh watched Roy's face carefully. "The Young Master has not competed at Heavens Arena for some time. It is believed that Young Master Illumi was attempting to break your own record of eighty-one consecutive wins. After having his Nen awakened yesterday, I hear he plans to seek out that Emitter for a rematch."
He doesn't want a rematch, Roy thought. He wants a kill.
He finished the burger and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Enough gossip. What's my training schedule for today?"
Snow-Walker, resting on its rack, seemed to hum with a restless energy, mirroring his own desire to return to the dream world and find Urokodaki. He stood up, leaving the dishes for Gotoh.
"Actually, Young Master," the butler said, "your morning training has been cancelled."
"The Master has scheduled a session to determine both your and Young Master Illumi's Nen types. He wishes to plan your future training accordingly."
So, he's finally remembered he has another son.
Roy picked up Snow-Walker and walked towards the door.
"I won't be attending," he said, not bothering to look back. "If my father asks why, you can tell him this:"
"He was the one who taught me that a true assassin never shows his hand. Not to anyone."
