Hunter x Hunter: The Sun Breathing Zoldyck - 13

Chapter 134: Bestiary × Clash—Roy vs. Pig-Headed Men

"These are Grandfather Zigg’s memories."

Roy held the cane-sword in his left hand. With his right, he opened his palm and conjured the short blade. Specks of light gathered into steel.

Demon Slayer world.

The short blade hanging on the south wall vanished again without warning.

Giyu Tomioka finished packing his satchel and looked back at the sleeping boy. He met Urokodaki’s gaze. Neither was surprised.

Giyu slid the door open and started the journey home.

"I will report everything that happened these days to the Master," Giyu said.

He did not know—and did not much care—what kind of stir it would cause for a Hashira to lose to Eiichiro.

He was returning with the method for the Bright Red Blade. He had one thought only: persuade Kagaya Ubuyashiki to provide all the intelligence on demons.

Urokodaki silently walked him to the door. Sabito and Makomo stood by as well. No one said much. This was Giyu’s duty. They simply had not expected that the boy would come and go so quickly, not even willing to stay one more night.

Who knew when they would meet again—or if there would be a next time at all.

"Senior Giyu, are you really not going to tell Eiichiro?"

"Leaving without a word… that guy will be angry when he wakes up."

"He will not," Sabito teased, glancing at Makomo. "Giyu is busy. Eiichiro is busier. You saw it, did you not?"

"He summoned his short blade inside his dream. He is probably fighting someone even now. We are the only ones with free time."

Makomo tilted her chin and studied Sabito. "Senior, you seem… happy?"

Giyu was gone. Eiichiro would descend the mountain soon. Everything would end without warning. How was that… happy? Making the best of a bitter lot?

Sabito smiled and did not explain.

Even setting aside the fact they were wandering souls, the moment Giyu achieved the Bright Red Blade, the Demon Slayer Corps had achieved it. With Tanjiro soon to descend the mountain, the fox-masked boy could faintly see the end of demons approaching.

Then people would work at sunrise and rest at sunset. They would no longer fear stepping out at night. Night markets would thrive. It was easy to picture how bright and harmonious that world would be.

"Senior," Giyu called then, pulling Sabito back from his thoughts.

Giyu, wearing a haori woven in red, yellow, and white, bowed to everyone, then straightened. "I am off."

A cold wind swirled around him in response.

Under the silent watch of Urokodaki, Sabito, Makomo, and the other disciples, he turned and gripped his sword. He looked back one last time—then strode into the forest. Fog swallowed his figure.

The moon rose high, cutting a slit in the mist and spilling down a silver beam.

Makomo’s expression dimmed. She asked suddenly, "Senior, if we are fated to disappear, is there anything you will still miss?"

Sabito said nothing.

After a moment, he turned away from the direction Giyu had gone and headed into the cabin.

"It’s not so much attachment as it is curiosity."

The fox-masked boy’s lips curved faintly. His gaze softened as he looked at the sleeping Roy. "I am curious what the world in Eiichiro’s dream is truly like."

"And who he is fighting now."

[Prompt: Class C entity, Pig-Headed Man, has been recorded in the Cognition World.]

[Bestiary activated.]

[Note: The host may record entities into the Bestiary through contact.]

[Use the Bestiary to Appraise.]

Hunter world.

Exam venue, inside the illusion.

Roy willed the short blade into his hand. Twin blades flashed. Ding. He caught the Pig-Headed Man’s savage axe swing. Power surged from that colossal body like a flood. Roy’s shoulders sank under the weight. He glanced sideways at the interface.

The appearance of a "new species" had seemingly patched his Nen ability, the Gate of Cognition, adding a new module.

This "patch," called the Bestiary, could take the "things" his eyes saw, run them through mental processing, and then systematize and summarize them into a catalog—a taxonomy—for "magical beasts" to be stored and identified.

In essence, it still followed the mature process of "I see, I hear, therefore I know," expanding his knowledge and cognition.

Which raised a question:

Why had the Sand Worm from Grandfather Zigg’s memories not been recorded in the Bestiary?

[Answer: Host did not witness its full form.]

Their minds attuned, Roy understood. He braced against the Pig-Headed Man’s axe, then snap-kicked it off, forcing it back before he disengaged. A string of information floated before his eyes.

[Pig-Headed Man Warrior]

[Role: Barbarian]

[Manifest Aura: C (120/100,000)]

[Potential Aura: C (120/100,000)]

Manifest and potential were the same? Roy blinked. The four-meter monster raised its axe at his head again. Suddenly, he realized: this was an entity that had fully developed its Nen.

"Axe—Heavy Strike!"

An Enhancer’s striking power was not in doubt.

The axe, wrapped in blood-red aura, pressed down with a pressure wave of air.

Roy raised the cane-sword in a sharp uppercut. Magnetism: Repel. The axe froze for a beat.

His short blade slid forward in a flash—straight at the Pig-Headed Man’s heart.

"Water Breathing - Seventh Form: Drop Ripple Thrust."

Ting. Tang. Two sharp chimes.

The cane-sword stopped one axe. The short blade was blocked by the Pig-Headed Man’s off-hand axe. They locked for a breath. Then Roy felt his body sink as raw power forced him down a step.

Against his D, a C-tier physique showed its edge. This was not about technique or "mechanics."

It was numbers.

And the opponent was a natural Enhancer.

"Gul'dan—aid me!" the Pig-Headed Man roared.

From the depths of the forest, a broadsword came shrieking through the air, aimed at Roy’s waist while his movement was locked.

Crude and direct—the goal was to cut him clean in half.

Fast. Too fast. To throw a broadsword like that… Roy’s eyes flicked into Gyo. He tracked it with a quick glance. The ground thundered, thud, thud, thud.

Another Pig-Headed Warrior thundered into view, chasing the broadsword. It was even taller than the one pinning Roy. The interface read: [C (240/100,000)]. Another fully developed unit.

Whoosh. The broadsword tore the air and arrived in a blink.

If he did not break the bind now, he was dead.

Scorching Truth. Burn.

Too bad Sol was not here. Why had it not been affected by the illusion?

Roy’s black hair stirred without wind. The milk-white aura flared red and raced down the katana, flowed into the axe, and surged into the Pig-Headed Man’s hands. A howl ripped from its throat.

The brute who had been overpowering Roy yelped and dropped its axe. It looked down. The palms layered with Ten had blistered. It stumbled back two steps.

A breath for Roy to seize.

"Sun Breathing - First Form: Dance."

Twin blades sang and sparked flames in the air. Already laced with Scorching Truth, the short blade and cane-sword spun a circle, two rings of fire. One knocked the broadsword aside. The other exploited the opening as the Pig-Headed Man looked at its hands and chopped at the unarmored neck.

Rip.

Flesh split.

Blood fountained.

The aura-warded hide yielded under the blade. The edge carved straight into the neck.

The Pig-Headed Man howled and lashed out with a kick.

Roy could have finished it with one more stroke, but the broadsword, batted away, spun back into the other warrior’s grip. It swung at Roy’s head with another punishing strike.

No choice. Roy let the short blade go. It stayed lodged in the axe-wielder’s neck. He stepped back into Mastered Shadow Step, skimming out of the broadsword’s lethal arc by a hair.

Crunch. The missed strike carved a fifty-meter gouge in the ground.

The broadsword warrior—"Gul'dan"—snorted twin jets of air. He took position shoulder-to-shoulder with the wounded axe-wielder. The two formed a pincer, blocking Roy’s path.

Swish. Swish. Two more Pig-Headed Men appeared up in the trees.

From deeper in the forest, a profound gaze fell on Roy. His body tightened as if bound by a rope. He frowned and raised a hand. Magnetism: Attraction. The short blade ripped free and snapped back to his palm.

A hard nut to crack. Might need a few re: tries.

Fifteen seconds. Sixteen. Seventeen. Twenty. Thirty seconds passed.

Outside the illusion, in the underground corridor—

The boy stood alone among a flock of chickens, eyes closed, quietly savoring the battle inside.

He did not realize that his endurance had thrown the outside into an odd silence. Over four hundred people and one bewildered plump crow stared and said nothing. Only the cuckoo clock’s tick-tock filled the room.

Shock and frustration interwove across the hall, painting the aura in alternating gray and red.

Thirty-five seconds. Forty. Fifty. Nearly a minute. Nerves began to fray.

People started drifting out. The elevator opened and closed, clanging again and again, and in a blink half the hall had cleared.

Yusuke, the snake handler, and other familiar faces were among those leaving.

"Tch. Figures it’d be this guy," Tonpa muttered from his corner, shooting Roy a jealous glance that cooled almost at once. He slid along the wall and vanished into the crowd, past candidates grumbling that this year’s exam was too hard, that it was all a waste of time.

Tonpa smirked to himself. "Hard’s good. If it’s too hard, you lot stop coming. Then the Association has to make the next one easy again. Maybe that’s when I get lucky…"

He had long since grasped the ebb and flow of the Hunter Exam. Pity his strength never matched his ambition. Otherwise, a "pro Hunter" roster might well have had a spot for the great Tonpa.

Clang. The elevator closed for the last time.

The hall was almost empty now. Those who remained were Kite, Kanzai, Illumi—and Gotoh and Rika, standing guard by Roy.

They did not look at one another. They were waiting for a result.

"Two minutes," Gel said, maintaining the Illusion character. She glanced at Botobai.

The man with the theatrical visage said nothing.

His broad palm rubbed his elbow.

He was… excited.

"Three minutes," said a voice from the barbecue restaurant at the entrance.

The two old men sat at the counter, tea in front of each, the candidates’ complaints rising and falling behind them as they filed out, ignored. Their old eyes never left the boy in the feed, eyes closed, still sunk in the illusion.

For a long while, neither spoke.

Then Netero cut the hush with a glance. "How long do you think he will last?"

Zeno rubbed his teacup, lowering his eyes. He said nothing. Then, out of nowhere, he muttered, "As long as he wants."

He shook his head, almost laughing at the absurdity of his own thought.

Inside the illusion, there were more than Pig-Headed Men.

There was also the Pig-Headed General.

That one would not be easy.