Gotoh visibly froze.
He lowered his head and stared blankly at Roy, instantly wondering if he'd misheard.
Me… Netero…? For heaven's sake—how did Young Master even connect those two names together?
The young steward went completely silent.
"What—scared?"
Roy scooped up a spoonful of bird's nest and smiled at him. "If you don't answer, I'll take that as a yes. When you're ready, I'll personally back you up."
Gotoh swallowed hard. Like he'd finally snapped out of his brain-blue-screen, he saw Roy was joking about everything except this.
In the end, he forced out a single word.
"…Okay."
His feelings were a mess. He'd never imagined "dying for Young Master" would arrive this fast—this abruptly…
"Don't look like you're going to a funeral." Roy noticed the gloom settling over him. He bit into a baguette and crunched loudly. "Before you're ready, I'll show you how it's done—force out every one of his trump cards."
Including the Hundred-Type Guanyin. Including Zero. Even… whatever else he might be hiding.
"Huh?" Gotoh blanked again. "I thought…"
"You thought what?" Roy rolled his eyes and said what Gotoh was thinking. "You thought I was sending you to die?"
Gotoh lowered his head in silence. Silence said everything.
Roy didn't bother pressing. He spoke as if it were obvious:
"I said I want you to take him down—and I want you alive, beating him fair and square. You…"
"…understand?"
"You're overestimating me, Young Master…"
"I'm not overestimating or underestimating anyone—I'm stating a fact." Roy finished his congee, took a napkin, and wiped his mouth with deliberate calm. Then he looked up, serious.
"You only need to remember this mission. Whether it's possible or not—that's my job."
"Young Master, I—"
"Stop."
"…Yes."
Gotoh wanted to say more, but didn't. He cleared the table and left.
"Rumble-rumble-rumble…" The cart wheels rolled along the stone corridor. It came in heavy and went out light—just like his mood: light when he arrived, heavy when he left. His back looked hesitant.
Roy stood, crossed to the desk, and watched him go through the bright window. Even without En, without using a heart-worm, Roy could tell exactly what Gotoh was thinking.
He was worried he wouldn't beat Netero—worried he'd disappoint Roy.
As for his own life…
Maybe ever since the day Gotoh made his Vow and Restriction, willing to throw away his life just to buy Roy a chance to escape, his life had already been hanging from his belt.
Someone like that. That loyalty.
It couldn't be wasted.
Gotoh turned a corner and vanished from view.
Roy withdrew his gaze, opened a drawer, and pulled out Grandpa Zigg's notebook. On the very last page, a sentence was written clearly:
"I have always believed the meaning of life never lies in one person, one family, one relationship, or one struggle… but in something higher—shared ideals held by a group, an organization, even a nation—and fighting for them with everything you have, so you don't live in vain."
Roy picked up a pen and, beneath that line, added a few names:
Great-grandfather Mahaa Zoldyck. Great-grandfather Zigg Zoldyck. Ging Freecss. The mysterious skeleton…
And finally, his own:
Roy Zoldyck.
All travelers on the same road—companions, in a sense.
A breeze drifted through. Roy's pen stopped. He sank into thought.
He didn't know what he'd become in the end—whether he'd fail like the skeleton, like Great-grandfather, or like Grandpa Zigg somewhere out there on the Dark Continent, still struggling…
His eyes dropped to the curse on the back of his hand. With a thought, he released the Golden Crow, letting it dive into the bed and roll around to its heart's content.
Then he opened Gotoh's follower panel and read it carefully.
[Gotoh]
Loyalty: Overflowing loyalty
Constitution: 387 (ordinary person = 1)
Visible Aura: C- (37,415 / 100,000)
Potential Aura: C- (8,649 / 100,000)
Rank: C- (ordinary ants = squadron leader level…)
That leopard his father had punched to death? Forget Netero—if his father, Silva, really wanted to, he could probably erase Gotoh with a single blow too.
So if he wanted to turn "impossible" into "possible"… ignoring experience for now, at bare minimum Gotoh's "numbers" would need to reach B, maybe even B+, to have a shot.
But for Gotoh to reach B+…
Roy glanced at his own panel. His only B-level stat—"potential aura"—was nowhere near enough.
"Weak… too weak. I'm weak. My followers are weak too."
The god-road was long and brutal, the burden heavy and the distance far. But at least there was a direction.
A few boxes of medicine shimmered into Roy's palm as his nen moved—TB medicine Gotoh had obtained for Tanjiro's father. After several days of trial, Roy could finally "reverse-conjure" it into his cognition world.
He narrowed his eyes at the greenery and birdsong outside the window.
"It's time to go back to the Demon Slayer world."
To fulfill his promise to Tanjiro's father—and to hunt demons, to give that world back its clear skies and peaceful nights.
He closed his eyes for a light nap to wash away early-morning drowsiness. Soon he fell asleep, and in moments he arrived in his cognition world—standing before that rainbow-bright dream corridor.
Two notices surfaced:
[Notice… Your follower Vanessa Siren has received your message and is ready to meet at any time.]
[Notice… Your follower Koller Spencer has received your message and is ready to meet at any time.]
Near the corridor, two vortices spun faintly. Through them, Vanessa's snake tail and old Koller's dog face were clearly visible—waiting to be summoned.
But it was morning; the agreed date was still a day away.
Roy suppressed the urge to pull them into the dream domain for Dark Continent intel. This time he didn't linger—he plunged straight into the dream corridor, reached the blue cognition sea, and shoved open the Demon Slayer door with the oni-mask hanging from it.
…
Muzan had been having a very bad time lately.
He was confused.
He didn't understand.
And he was afraid.
Ever since parting with that red-haired boy after the Infinity Train incident, he hadn't taken a single step outside the Infinity Castle. He handed everything over to Dōma—and what came back to him was one disaster after another, nonstop.
"My lord, the Demon Slayer Corps has obtained crimson blades."
"My lord, the Hashira have grown stronger for unknown reasons—without even relying on breathing styles, their bodies alone can rival the Twelve Kizuki."
"My lord, Gyūtarō has died… and the new Upper Moons you cultivated were slaughtered by Gyōmei Himejima and the other Hashira…"
"I know. I know. Damn it—stop talking!" One day Muzan finally snapped. He screamed at Dōma and threw him out.
What Muzan could never have imagined was that this would be their last meeting—forever.
He saw it:
That woman with a butterfly ribbon in her hair wielding a Nichirin blade so red it hurt to look at—she decapitated Dōma, destroyed his heart, tore him apart limb by limb. She looked like she wanted to eat him alive—until the rational Tomioka Giyu grabbed her and stopped her.
Her strength. Her speed. Her absurd leap in power.
For a moment Muzan felt like he'd gone back to that moonlit night—back to meeting Yoriichi. His heart trembled with dread.
"What's going on?"
"Kokushibō—why can that woman kill Dōma?"
No mark. No transparent world. Just flesh and breathing—and Dōma was gone.
Muzan bared his fangs, veins bulging at his temples, and stared at Kokushibō—his only remaining subordinate, his final shield—waiting for an answer.
But Kokushibō said nothing. He just stared at the eye-demon's vision of Shinobu's near-mad slaughter, and for the first time in his life, he felt truly lost.
Yes—why could she do it?
Wasn't it supposed to be only Yoriichi—born with the mark and the transparent world—who could stand against demons like that?
Why had she, and the boy behind her, and the other Hashira… become so strong so suddenly?
"Tell me," Muzan hissed. "Why?!"
Kokushibō—once Tsugikuni Michikatsu—unconsciously gripped his sword, "Kyokoku Kamushari," and murmured in a daze:
"If humans can become this strong with only their bodies… then what was the point of me becoming a demon?"
Muzan froze.
Yes.
If human flesh could rival demons—then what meaning did his centuries-long pursuit of "perfection" even have?
Even if he found the Blue Spider Lily and walked under the sun… what if he was still inferior to humans?
The thought alone suffocated him—so hopeless it was terrifying.
The Infinity Castle fell into dead silence. Nakime stopped playing her biwa, face buried in her hair, wordless. After a long time, Muzan finally spoke:
"At least… we have longer lives than they do."
A single plucked note—like fog parting to reveal the moon.
Muzan's eyes sharpened as if he'd convinced himself.
"Humans die of old age—like Yoriichi did. No matter how strong they become, they turn to dust in the end. But you and I…"
"We will live forever."
"As long as we stay in the Infinity Castle and wait, slowly… until they die. Yes—die of old age. That's all."
"Yoriichi…" Kokushibō lifted all six eyes to the ceiling, lost in thought. In his mind appeared the image of a man with flame-red hair and wooden sandals, a katana at his waist—overlapping with the boy he'd seen on the Infinity Train: Kamado Rōichirō.
After a long pause, Kokushibō sighed softly.
"…Let's hope so."
Nakime struck another note.
The Infinity Castle faded into nothingness once more.
At the same time, at the Ubuyashiki estate hidden in the wisteria grove, the Demon Slayer Corps convened another Hashira meeting after Roy's last departure.
This time, the agenda was only one thing:
Hunt Upper One—and the Demon King he guarded behind the scenes.
Hunt Kibutsuji Muzan.
"I'm sorry, my lord. I couldn't extract anything useful from that man." Dōma was dead. The newly promoted Upper Moons were dead. Demons had been wiped out in droves—according to the Kakushi's intelligence, demon attacks had become rare, and deaths by demons were scarce. For the world, for ordinary people, it was unquestionably good news.
For Shinobu, it was a revenge run so satisfying she'd nearly lost her mind.
But Dōma's mouth had been harder than she'd imagined—or perhaps Muzan had planted something in him to control life and death, making him unable to speak at all.
Either way, the route of "find Muzan through Upper Two" was completely cut off.
Shinobu and Tomioka Giyu knelt on one knee and lowered their heads to apologize.
But Ubuyashiki Kagaya, his curse gone and his aura already stronger since opening his nodes, looked healthier than ever—his eyesight returning, his posture straighter, his spirit gentler and brighter. With Amane at his side, he gazed past the Hashira at his children—Hinaki, Nichika, Kanata, Kanao, and their son Kiriya—practicing wooden swords in the courtyard, declaring they wanted to repay Lord Rōichirō.
Kagaya simply waved a hand.
"Shinobu. Giyu. Rise."
He looked around—Rengoku, Uzui, Iguro, the rest—and smiled softly.
"I've always believed Lord Rōichirō would have a way, because he…"
"It's thanks to him that we have this situation—thanks to him that all of you have grown stronger. Isn't that right?"
The Hashira nodded. Their eyes drifted, almost in unison, to the empty cushion beside Kagaya beneath the eaves.
He was gone again. No message. No trace.
Even the Ubuyashiki crows… might not be able to find him.
"Namu Amida Butsu…" Gyōmei Himejima struck his bowl and intoned a prayer. Then he spoke, voice heavy with sincerity.
"My lord speaks true. We should all thank Lord Rōichirō."
Towering as he was, after opening his nodes and being tempered by nen, he'd somehow grown even taller—kneeling beneath the eaves like an iron pagoda supporting the roof.
Not just him.
Rengoku Kyojuro—first to join the "Sun God Church," Tomioka Giyu—Roy's fellow student by another bond, and Shinobu, Iguro, Uzui, the rest… all had changed in their own ways.
And the moment Roy pushed open the Demon Slayer door and stepped back into this world, those changes came crashing down on him like a flood—panel notifications roaring in his ears until they drowned out everything else.
~~~
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