"Blade aura..."
In Brandon's dilated pupils, Roy sheathing his cane-sword was reflected. As his consciousness collapsed, a life's worth of images lit up like a revolving lantern.
Frame after frame spliced into a single reel. In his mind, The Last Film began to play. In a daze he returned to the past, to the bleak childhood he never wanted to mention.
It was a crumbling tenement crammed with hundreds of residents. The corridor was narrow and airless. Coal smoke from braziers, trash piled at doorways, and reeking shoes and socks hung at curtains forced anyone passing through to pinch their nose.
Brandon drifted along until he found the familiar little iron door. Before he even reached it, he heard his father yanking his mother's hair and slamming her head against the wall.
"Slut. No money? Then go sell yourself for me!"
"I told you I'll win it back next round. Why the hell won't you listen?"
The woman sobbed and clutched the man's arm. "You can't take it. That's next month's living expenses..."
"To hell with living. Once I win it back, you'll be living large!"
Bang. The iron door flew open under his kick. Cash clenched in his fist, he saw Brandon and slapped him. "Useless. I was held back by you from the very start!"
Brandon covered his face and stayed silent while the man swaggered away. He suddenly thought of his classmate Alan. Alan wasn't the accident born to a gambler and a whore. He had loving parents, grandparents who picked him up after school, pocket money for snacks. He had everything Brandon wanted.
He was jealous. He was envious. One day a notion struck him—
'If only I became Alan.'
The next day he actually was Alan. He wore new clothes his parents bought, ate small cakes his grandparents bought, and rode in a car. His life changed.
Later Brandon found that Alan also had troubles. Their buddy Mike had it even better, so Brandon became Mike... soon after he became Kelly, then Gibson, then Joshua... he became all sorts of people...
He savored one life after another...
Now, with so many more "lives" waiting for him, he was being forced to fall here.
"I'm not willing. I'm really not willing!"
His severed head flew. His eyes bulged in fury. The film of consciousness was torn off mid-reel. Strands of pitch-black "qi" connected Brandon's head and neck, forcing his body to straighten once more.
Roy, who had just sheathed his blade, narrowed his eyes. With a crisp clang he drew the cane-sword again.
He watched, wary.
Unease stirred.
This was... 'Post-Mortem Nen?'
No.
'It feels more like resentment.'
Unwilling to vanish, he traded his soul to the dark and let resentment corrode him. This guy's potential in Nen was unexpectedly high...
Roy thought of Jed. Also consumed by resentment, Jed had once stood shoulder to shoulder with Isaac Netero. His innate talent needed no comment.
"Roy Zoldyck... I... want... you..."
"I... want... to become... you..."
Driven by malice, head rejoined to body, Brandon staggered to stand. But a sudden change erupted. Hundreds of silhouettes burst from his corpse. Some hugged his waist. Some covered his mouth. Some wound around his arms. Others hooked his legs. They bound him tight, refusing to let him rise, as if they had waited for this moment all along...
Roy watched in silence. A feeling of déjà vu rose, like when he first met Hiroshi Minamino and keenly caught the scent of a "soul."
"They're all pitiable innocents who died wronged."
Footsteps sounded behind him.
With white hair tossing, Zeno walked up with his hands behind his back. He watched Brandon being dragged and torn and said, expressionless, "Parasites end up parasitized, Roy. Your blade was slow."
"When you kill, you must be so fast the other party doesn't even know they're dead."
"Only then can you cut off any chance of using Nen or 'rules' to return."
This was hardened experience from an old assassin. The eight large characters billowing on Zeno's chest were ironclad proof.
Roy stayed silent, watching Brandon howl and reach a hand toward him, only to be dragged back by countless hands. After a moment he glanced at Zeno. "Will you end up like this too after a hundred years, Grandpa?"
Except for Zigg's disappearance, no Zoldyck had died yet. The question struck Zeno's mind like a hammer.
The former head of the Zoldyck family, whose name alone made people tremble, froze for several seconds, then smiled oddly. "Heh. That depends on how filial you brats are."
Zeno stroked his beard. "If you tick off the old man, you'll pay for it."
"Grandpa is joking," Roy said. He could already picture how terrifying Zeno would be if consumed by resentment.
One "Dragon Dive" and the estate might be blown sky-high.
He quickly put on a grin. "When the time comes, look for my dad. He's the primary responsible party."
"Hmph." Zeno shot him a sidelong glance and fell silent.
"Ah... get off... let me go... Roy Zoldyck, save me... I won't... possess you, I—"
The wail cut off.
The pitch-black resentment dispersed. Brandon crashed hard onto the deck. His head separated and rolled to Roy's feet. Roy didn't hesitate. He volleyed it with a heavy kick, bursting it into a red mist.
Zeno's reminder was correct. When you kill, be fast. If you aren't, make sure to finish the job.
Without a host, those "pitiable innocents" stood dumbly a while. Some fell to their knees and wept. Some threw their heads back and howled. Some covered their mouths and sobbed. Some laughed out loud. Their expressions ran the gamut.
Roy wasn't a ghost. He couldn't feel what "release" felt like. It was like when he asked Hiroshi Minamino if he wanted to say a few more words to his daughter Shizuki and got the answer that he didn't wish his family to grieve anew because of his passing.
"Thank you..."
Faintly, Roy heard the murmur.
He looked up. Hundreds of figures bowed to him. Smiling in relief, they turned to motes of light. A gust of wind lifted them. In an instant they flowed into his body.
Zeno cast him a surprised look.
The boy didn't refuse. Naturally, calmly, he accepted them. Inspired, he closed his eyes to savor the novel sensations each life brought. In his ears, a panel chime echoed—
[Detected that you have purified one hundred twenty-three "lingering souls"...]
[Accepting their cause and effect, entrusted by them, the remainder of their energy has been willingly gifted to you...]
[Prompt: "Life Energy" +30...]
[The host may allocate it freely and attach it to the "Constitution" stat...]