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Chapter 1: Rebirth X Roy Zoldyck
🕑 Added 2025-10-19 10:14:00 +0000 UTCChapter 1: Rebirth X Roy Zoldyck
The summers in the Padokea Republic were always hotter than usual.
It was barely five in the morning, but a sliver of light was already clawing its way up the horizon. Seizing the moment before the oppressive heat fully descended, Roy was already up. He threw on a tank top and shorts and began his daily run around the entirety of Kukuroo Mountain.
From the ancient family estate deep within the mountain, down to the butler's villa on the mountainside, then further down to the security station at the base, and all the way back up again. It was a route of nearly ten kilometers. By the time he returned, he looked like he'd been fished out of a lake, drenched in sweat, yet feeling an indescribable sense of release.
It's a scientific fact that running stimulates the release of endorphins, bringing a feeling of pleasure and exhilaration. But after catching his breath, Roy didn't feel the expected rush. Instead, his brow furrowed in frustration.
The reason was simple. He, the eldest son of the Zoldyck family—the world's number one family of assassins, a name that could make armies tremble—and also a transmigrator from a world called Earth, had noticed that his physical development was starting to plateau.
Sure, training plateaus were a real thing. In the beginning, whether building muscle or cutting fat, the results were always most dramatic. After that initial burst, progress would inevitably slow and stabilize.
But that applied to adults. It shouldn't apply to him, a boy of eight years old, still in the prime of his body's growth and development.
Moreover, he was a Zoldyck. His physical constitution was genetically superior to others from birth.
...Except for his black hair. A clear sign that he hadn't perfectly inherited the Zoldyck family's signature genetic gifts.
Still, Roy operated on a principle he'd adopted in this new, brutal life: "Slow is smooth, and smooth is fast." His mindset was well-adjusted. No anxiety, no despair. He returned to his bedroom and took a quick shower.
When he emerged, he was dressed in a clean set of training gi and seated at the dining table.
It was now six in the morning. As an ancient wooden grandfather clock in the corner chimed the hour, Gotoh, the head butler, arrived on schedule, pushing a cart with a lavish breakfast.
Cream of mushroom soup. A bacon sandwich. A fresh salad made with wild vegetables foraged from Kukuroo Mountain, topped with a boiled egg and a drizzle of rice vinegar. And to finish, a tall glass of milk. It was perfectly balanced for nutrition. It was also utterly devoid of flavor.
Roy casually dipped a corner of his sandwich into the soup and took a bite, listening as Gotoh recited his training schedule for the day. While the butler spoke, he discreetly opened his internal interface, his eyes scanning the details.
[Name: Roy Zoldyck]
[Biological Age: 7 years, 11 months]
[Physique: 10 -> 10.001 (Note: Average adult is 1)]
[Nen: Aura Nodes Dormant. Awaiting Initiation.]
[Combat Experience: LV2 (15/100)]
[Assassin Arts:]
Shadow Step: Proficient (78/100)
Rhythm Echo: Proficient (64/100)
Snake Awakens: Novice (83/100)
(Note: Mastery is ranked: Novice, Proficient, Master, Perfect)
[Title: Untested Fledgling (Easily Culled)]
Untested Fledgling, huh?
The system didn't pull any punches. Roy bit down hard on his sandwich, channeling his annoyance into the bite.
Gotoh cleared his throat, leaning in slightly. "Young Master," he said in a low voice, "The Mistress has been in a poor mood recently. I would advise you to be careful."
The "Mistress" was Kikyo, Roy's birth mother. Three pregnancies, three sons with black hair. Not a single silver-haired child among them. For a family obsessed with its legendary bloodline, this was a cardinal sin—the equivalent of failing to produce a worthy heir three times in a row.
So, her anxiety and violent mood swings were, in a twisted way, understandable.
Thankfully, her next child, Killua, wouldn't disappoint her.
"Milluki is a good kid," Roy said nonchalantly after swallowing, taking a sip of milk. "A bit fat, a bit ugly, his eyes are a little small, and he's gassy, but other than that, he's fine. Mother may not like him, but I don't see the problem."
Gotoh fell silent for a moment. He couldn't tell if the young master was genuinely complimenting Milluki or taking a veiled shot at him. He also recalled Roy's open dislike for his older brother, Illumi, whom he found to be cold, emotionless, and "creepy, with eyes like a dead doll." The butler decided it was safest to pretend he hadn't heard anything.
He changed the subject. "Young Master, the Master has decided to initiate your Nen."
The young butler, who had yet to grow his signature mustache, pushed his gold-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose. His expression was solemn. "The time is set for eight o'clock tonight. He will be waiting for you in the training hall."
Roy froze for a fraction of a second before his expression returned to normal. He picked up a napkin and wiped his mouth with a casual air, but beneath the calm facade, his heart began to pound.
The bad news: through years of observation, the Zoldyck elders, from Silva to Zeno, had reached a conclusion. He was merely a common genius. By initiating his Nen early, they could mold him into a competent assassin, but as for inheriting the family business? That was a foolish dream.
The good news: if his Nen was successfully awakened, and if he happened to be an Enhancer, this could be the very key to shattering the plateau of his "weak" physique.
Either way, the decision was made.
Tonight at eight, whether he wanted it or not, Roy Zoldyck would be forced into the world of Nen.
And this step, after nearly eight years of being reborn into this monstrous family, was the moment he had been anticipating the most.
A glint of fierce determination flashed deep within the boy's pupils as he finished his breakfast.
On his father's orders, his usual training regimen was cancelled for the day. He spent the hours in meditation, calming his spirit and bringing his body to its absolute peak condition. He waited as night fell and a full moon rose into the sky.
Then, he stood. Pushing himself up from the floor, he walked out of his bedroom, the flickering wall sconces casting long, dancing shadows. He followed the deep, silent corridor all the way to the training hall.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The sound echoed in the silence.
"Enter."
A voice, thick with power, boomed from within.
The heavy door swung open, revealing a portion of the vast room.
A towering man stood with his back to the door, his legs spread wide in a perfect split, balanced on two massive stone blocks. A cascade of silver hair fell down his back like a waterfall. The aura he passively emanated was so powerful it felt like a physical weight, making it hard to breathe.
Silva Zoldyck. A world-class assassin who once single-handedly killed a member of the Phantom Troupe and escaped without a scratch. Every time they met, Roy could feel it from this man he called Father: a suffocating pressure and an overwhelming sense of danger.
It wasn't a feeling between a father and son. It was the natural, crushing dominance a higher-dimensional being exerts on a lower one.
He steadied his nerves and took a deep breath. "Father."
BOOM. The door slammed shut behind him.
Silva turned his head, his gaze as sharp and cold as a surgeon's scalpel. "Come here."
Roy silently walked forward.
He was met with a hand the size of a spade. It moved with a casual, almost lazy grace, yet it was faster than lightning as it slapped against his chest.
CRACK!
An impossibly condensed wave of Ren shot through Roy's body. Without losing any momentum, it slammed into the wall behind him.
A spiderweb of cracks instantly spread across the thick stone.
At the same instant, a shackle deep inside Roy's body shattered.
