Void-space trembled. Turbulent currents surged.
Two razor-sharp gazes shot toward him like lightning.
Roy's vision flashed. He had only just used Targeted Tracking to catch a glimpse of a corner deep in the void when his consciousness felt like it was stabbed with a needle—bang, it slammed into an invisible wall and rebounded, forced back into reality.
The images that had formed in his mind collapsed the moment they lost his "line of sight."
That faint sense of being watched faded.
The void sealed shut again, leaving only a skeleton, a chimera tapir, and that gaunt old man suspended in the depths—silent, unmoving.
It was him…
Roy.
"Heh heh heh…" Maha suddenly laughed. The sound grew louder and louder—wild, satisfied, brimming with relief and delight. He slanted a look at the skeleton, dug at his ear, and drawled, "Three to five years really is short, huh~"
The sickly green ghostfire in the skeleton's empty sockets flickered. It was hard to tell if it was shaking its head in amusement or recalibrating what it thought it knew. There was a trace of surprise in its voice.
"That line was my old friend's exact wording," it said.
Pretending not to hear Maha's teasing, it continued thoughtfully, "He was a proud one—and he had the right to be. The night before he fell, he came to me and told me everything. He said that across the entire Dark Continent… even if a demigod or one of the gods' offspring arrived, to learn his ability would take at least two years."
"That's because he wasn't talking about Maha's grandson!" Maha planted his hands on his hips.
"But you aren't a god," the skeleton replied evenly, "and you've long since fallen off your altar…"
It stared at Maha. "I can feel it—you and I are the same. Your divinity is nearly dried up. The fact you're still alive at all is already a miracle."
Maha said nothing.
That single sentence peeled open an old wound on both sides—one neither could refute.
They stood there in silence, as though there was everything to say… and nothing left worth saying.
Then the void shook again. The space-storms, already angry, grew even more violent—because two "bugs" had intruded. Both Maha and the skeleton understood: it was time to part.
Maha stood with his hands behind his back, staring into the endless emptiness.
"Leave me your name."
A thin sadness seeped into the air. He sighed.
"When you finally die for real—if I'm still alive—tell me where. I'll come collect your body."
"No need." The skeleton stroked the tapir. The tapir lifted its trunk and nuzzled close. The ghostfire jumped—whoosh—and for a heartbeat, it reflected the glory of bygone years.
"I, Leon Zeppelin, will die so completely there won't be a single scrap left. If you want to collect my corpse, you won't be able to."
"Leon Zeppelin…" Maha repeated under his breath. He nodded, silently committing it to memory.
Then he turned to go—one step crushing a surge of oncoming space-current underfoot.
"You came to my door. That means I don't need to explain anything else to you, Leon Zeppelin…"
"If there's a next life…"
"See you again."
His hands flared with that deep, eerie glow. He reached forward and ripped—space tore open into a slit, revealing the bright world outside, flooded with sunlight. A world with Zeno, Silva, Roy, and the kids.
Leon turned his skull toward him. Outside the tear, daylight spilled in. Maha had already stepped through—half his body across—when Leon spoke again.
"You know how hard this road is. One wrong step and it's the abyss. Why would you still let that kid walk it?"
Maha paused.
Then he stepped out without looking back.
"Young people make their own choices. We old remnants of a dead era shouldn't fuss over them."
"…and we can't control them, anyway."
Riiip— the tear closed.
In the lonely void, only Leon Zeppelin and his old companion remained. After a moment's stunned silence, they turned their backs to where Maha had left and disappeared deeper into the abyss.
"So… youth really is everything," Leon murmured.
His deep sigh was shredded by the space-storms and vanished.
…
Republic of Batochia, Kukuroo Mountain, Zoldyck family grounds.
Space rippled. Maha stepped out.
The Zoldycks' hearts, hanging in their throats, finally dropped back into place.
"Grandfather / Great-grandfather / Ancestor…"
"Mm." Maha landed lightly in the corridor and gave Zeno and Silva a casual nod. His old eyes swept the hall.
"Where's Killua?"
"He was taken inside to nurse."
Babies do nothing but eat and sleep. Maha didn't even bother turning his head—Kikyo was there; nothing would happen to Killua. He walked past Zeno and Silva and stopped right in front of Roy, then flicked a finger against Roy's forehead.
"You've got guts!"
"Peeking at what you shouldn't—are you trying to raise hell?"
Roy rubbed his forehead, still holding the wooden box Leon had given him, and laughed awkwardly.
"I had a sudden insight… didn't control myself."
And everyone was worried about the old man. If Roy could use Targeted Tracking, follow his causality thread, and see him… it would've been weirder if Roy didn't.
"Hmph." Maha glanced at the box, a complicated look flickering deep in his eyes.
"If someone's willing to give, you accept it. That's that."
He added quietly, "It's a demigod's remains, after all. The fact it ended up in your hands is also your own ability."
"A demigod?" Zeno and Silva exchanged a look, then stared at the plain wooden box with new seriousness.
Not walking the path of faith didn't mean they didn't understand it. Fuel faith, ignite a "divine flame," become a god—Zeno and Silva had learned enough inside re: Game of the Dead and from Maha's offhand comments to understand the outline.
Zeno narrowed his eyes. "To hand over something like this… Grandfather, it means the other side values Roy a lot."
"That's because this brat earned it," Maha snorted. Then he shoved both hands into his pockets.
"Roy. Come with me."
He brushed past Zeno and Silva toward the stairs.
Roy looked once at Zeno, once at Silva, once at Illumi, then tucked the box into his clothes and followed.
One old, one young. One tall, one short.
In the dawn-red corridor, their shadows stretched along the ancient stone.
A breeze rolled through—birds and flowers and sunlight.
Zeno watched them go with his hands behind his back. "Silva. Killua can be heir."
"But Grandfather's inheritance… can only go to Roy."
Silva didn't answer. He just stared after the boy's back.
Zeno glanced at him. "You disagree?"
Silva snapped out of it without a word, pushed open the bedroom door, and went to see Killua.
"Talk to me again when he can beat me."
Bang. The bedroom door shut hard.
Zeno got a door slammed in his face. His gaze flicked to Milluki sneaking off, then to Illumi.
"And you?"
Illumi slid the Divine Spear nail snug against his chest, shoved a hand into his pocket, and walked downstairs toward the basement.
Great-grandfather was taken by Nii-san… so he'd go find great-great-grandfather.
Zeno watched Illumi go too and shook his head.
"One after another…"
He melted into a corner shadow and vanished.
Morning stayed bright. With Killua's birth, the household slowly dispersed. Apart from occasional baby cries, the Zoldyck estate soon returned to its usual quiet.
Roy followed Maha step by step toward the dim little room, mind chewing on the word demigod over and over.
Finally he raised his eyes and asked, "Great-grandfather… how strong is a god? And how strong is a demigod?"
Maha stopped.
Ahead was his dim bedroom—the place he'd been waiting to die in.
He turned back and looked at Roy's face: still young, but with the first edges of adulthood cutting through.
Maha chuckled.
"Heh heh heh… how strong?"
"When Gotoh can beat Netero," he said lightly, "you'll have your answer."
Roy: "…"
~~~
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