"Something's off…"
Nobunaga's brow twitched ever so slightly as his hand drifted toward the hilt of his katana, reacting on instinct before reason could fully catch up.
His battle-hardened senses screamed at him—not from the force of Roy's last strike, but from the eerie precision behind it.
"If this guy's really a 'Nemesis Master'… then Uvogin's aura is just fuel for his blade."
The idea made the hairs on his neck stand on edge.
In front of them, Uvogin's massive frame tensed, blood running freely from the gash on his thigh. That blade—it hadn't just cut meat. If he'd been a second slower…
That cut could've taken his whole leg.
Shizuku, as always calm and aloof, tilted her head slightly.
"Should we help him?" she asked, as if asking about which drink to pick at a café.
Nobunaga didn't answer immediately.
He narrowed his eyes at Roy, who stood still, blind eyes staring blankly ahead—yet somehow, it felt like Roy was watching all of them.
Nobunaga glanced sideways at Shizuku, then at the silent, unreadable Zi Po Nian.
"…Let's wait and watch," he finally muttered.
After all, "Nemesis Master" or not—
Uvogin isn't that easy to kill.
He's wrestled chimera beasts barehanded and lived to drink about it.
Meanwhile… in a dark chamber within the Zoldyck estate—
A fire crackled lazily in the hearth, the flame dancing like a predator coiled in wait.
Silva Zoldyck sat upright on a throne-like chair carved from ancient volcanic stone.
His thick arms rested on the chair's frame, and his eyes—sharp as honed daggers—were locked on a screen mounted on the wall.
Displayed was a slowed-down frame of Roy's blade slicing through Uvogin's thigh like it was softened clay.
"Clean technique… swift draw… terrifying reading ability."
Silva's voice was low, appreciative.
"He's more than a surprise."
His gaze drifted to Roy's blade, a simple stick blade—unimpressive in design but wielded with such pressure it felt like a guillotine.
Then came the squeak of old hinges.
Jeno Zoldyck shuffled in with his usual air of "ancient mischief." His hands were folded behind his back, the long white cloak swaying behind his tiny frame like a legend from the Warring States.
He looked far too cheerful for a man who once dismantled a mafia ring single-handedly.
"Hm? What are you watching, Silva?" he asked, voice light as a spring breeze.
Silva didn't look away. "Roy."
Jeno froze mid-step. "Who?"
"Roy."
Pause.
"Cough—I suddenly remembered I left the stove on. Be right back!"
Jeno turned on his heel faster than Killua spotting a bad deal, face twisting into a bitter frown.
That damn name again!
"Paji~"
There went his hard-earned good mood, dissolved like sugar in acid.
Silva raised a brow, the reaction far too exaggerated for a small family feud.
"Father," Silva said with a slight smirk, "you really shouldn't be so worked up. He's still your grandson."
Jeno waved his hand like swatting away a mosquito.
"He doesn't treat me like a grandfather—why should I act like one?" he barked, pouting like a veteran general betrayed by his own lieutenant.
"He might die today," Silva added casually, voice like thunderclouds rolling in.
That stopped Jeno. His steps halted. Slowly, he turned back to the screen.
On it, Roy stood unmoving—blindfolded, blade drawn, facing down Uvogin, Nobunaga, and Shizuku with the calmness of a mountain unmoved by wind.
Jeno narrowed his eyes.
"Those… aren't small fry."
"No," Silva confirmed. "Spiders. Phantom Troupe."
"The brute in front is Uvogin. Swordsman's Nobunaga. The girl's Shizuku. All S-Class threats."
Jeno's eyes glinted like steel catching the sun.
A-Class criminals, dangerous enough to trouble the Hunter Association.
For Roy to be pitted against three of them…
"Misfortune?" Jeno muttered. "Or fate?"
Then, with a deep breath, he said something he never thought he'd say.
"Silva, you still don't understand."
"Understand what?"
"That kid…" Jeno rubbed his beard with exaggerated annoyance.
"Is a damn monster."
Silva blinked.
"…You're optimistic about him?"
"I'm not optimistic," Jeno snorted. "I'm stating facts. If you want to discipline him—do it now.
Because in a few days…
Even you might not be able to lay a hand on him."
Silva: "…"
Damn it, Dad… why do you sound so serious all of a sudden?