"An aura blade..."
Brandon's widening pupils reflected the image of Roy sheathing his sword. As his consciousness faded, a film of his life began to play.
Scene after scene linked together, unreeling in his mind. Brandon saw the opening title: *The Final Film*. In a daze, he was transported back to the past, to the dark childhood he never wanted to speak of again.
It was a dilapidated tenent building, cramd with hundreds of residents. The corridors were narrow, the ventilation poor. The smoke from coal stoves, the garbage piled by doorways, the stinking shoes and socks left on door mats... the stench was so overwhelming you had to pinch your nose just to pass through.
Brandon's spirit floated past it all. He found the familiar little iron door. Before he could even get close, he heard his father, once again, tearing at his mother's hair and slamming her head against the wall.
"You worthless bitch! If you don't have money, then go sell yourself!"
"I told you I was going to win it all back on the next hand! Why the hell won't you listen to ?"
The woman sobbed, grabbing the man's arm and pleading, "You can't take that! That's our living expenses for next month!"
"To hell with living expenses! When I win it all back, you'll be living in luxury!"
*BANG!* The man kicked the iron door open. He had a few bills clutched in his hand. Seeing Brandon, he raised a hand and slapped him across the face. "Useless thing! You're the one who's been dragging down from the start!"
Brandon held his cheek in silence, watching the man storm off. He suddenly thought of his classmate, Aaron. Aaron wasn't the bastard child of a gambler and a prostitute. He had loving parents, grandparents who picked him up from school every day, allowance to buy snacks, and everything he ever wanted.
He was so jealous, so envious. One day, a wild thought occurred to him—
*If only I could beco Aaron.*
The next day, he really did beco Aaron. He wore new clothes bought by his mom and dad, ate little cakes from his grandma and grandpa, rode in a car, and lived a different life.
Later, Brandon discovered that Aaron had his own troubles. His good friend, Mike, had a better life. So... Brandon beca Mike. Not long after, he beca Kelly, then Gibson, then Joshua... he beca all sorts of different people.
He enjoyed one different life after another.
And now, when he still had so many more "lives" to enjoy, he was being forced to die here.
"I won't accept it! I really, really won't accept this!"
The flying head's eyes were wide with fury. The film of his consciousness was forcibly torn. Wisps of black Aura connected Brandon's head to his neck, compelling his body to straighten up once more.
Roy, who had just sheathed his sword, saw this, and his gaze hardened. With a sharp *sching*, he drew the cane sword again.
He narrowed his eyes, his vigilance raised.
He was uncertain.
*Is this... Nen After Death?*
No, that wasn't right.
*This is more like 'Resentful Nen'!*
Unwilling to perish, he had sold his soul to darkness in exchange for this, willingly allowing himself to be consud by his grudge. This guy's potential in Nen was unexpectedly high.
Roy was reminded of Jed. He, too, had been a being consud by resentnt, and in life, he had been an equal to Netero himself, a testant to his imnse natural talent.
"Roy... Zoldyck... I... want... you..."
"I... want... to beco... you..."
Fueled by the grudge, Brandon's head and body reconnected. He staggered, trying to stand, but then sothing unexpected happened. From within his corpse, hundreds of human figures suddenly erged. They grabbed his waist, covered his mouth, wrapped around his arms, and tripped his legs. They held him down with all their might, refusing to let him stand, as if they had been waiting for this very mont.
Roy watched in silence, a sense of déjà vu washing over him. It was just like when he had first t the spirit of Hiro Minamino; he could sense the distinct presence of "souls."
"They are all the poor souls he innocently slaughtered."
*Tap... tap...* Footsteps sounded from behind him.
Zeno, his white hair flowing, walked to the boy's side with his hands behind his back. He calmly watched as Brandon was pulled, torn, and bitten, and said without expression, "The parasite is finally consud by its hosts. Roy... your blade was too slow."
"When you kill, you must be so fast that the target doesn't even realize they are dead."
"Only then can you sever any possibility of them reviving through Nen or other 'rules'."
This was advice from a veteran assassin. The motto emblazoned across Zeno's chest—'A Kill a Day / Active for Life'—was ironclad proof.
Roy remained silent, quietly watching as Brandon wailed and reached a hand out to him, only to be dragged back by countless other hands. After a mont, he turned to Zeno. "When you pass on, Grandfather, will you beco like this?"
Aside from Zzigg's disappearance, not a single Zoldyck had ever died. Roy's question was like a hamr blow to Zeno's soul.
The forr head of the Zoldyck family, a man whose na alone could strike fear into the hearts of the world, was stunned for several seconds before letting out a strange laugh. "Heh heh heh... Well, that all depends on how filial you little brats are."
Zeno stroked his beard. "If you make this old man unhappy, you'll certainly have it coming."
"You're joking, Grandfather." Roy could only imagine the terrifying scene of Zeno being consud by Resentful Nen. Would he just use 'Dragon Dive' and blow up the family estate?
He quickly put on a smile. "I'll leave it to my dad. He has primary responsibility."
"Hmph," Zeno grunted, glancing sideways at him before falling silent.
"Aaargh... get off... let go of ... Roy Zoldyck, save ... I won't... possess you, I w—mmph..."
The wretched screams ca to an abrupt end.
The black 'Resentful Nen' dissipated. Brandon's body fell heavily onto the deck. His head detached and rolled to Roy's feet with a thud. Without hesitation, Roy kicked it with all his might, and it exploded into a mist of blood.
His grandfather's reminder was correct. A kill must be swift. If not, you must rember to deliver the finishing blow.
The "poor souls of the innocent dead," now without a vessel, stood frozen for a mont. So began to kneel and weep, so threw their heads back and scread at the sky, so covered their mouths and sobbed, while others laughed hysterically. Their reactions were as varied as they were.
Roy was not a ghost; he couldn't comprehend the feeling of "liberation." It was just like when he had asked Hiro Minamino if he wanted to say a few more words to his daughter, Shizuka. The answer had been that he didn't want his family to feel sorrow for his passing again.
"Thank you..." Faintly, Roy heard a murmur.
He looked up. The hundreds of figures bowed to him in unison, their faces filled with relieved smiles as they dissolved into points of light. The wind picked them up, and in an instant, they flowed into his body.
Zeno shot him a surprised look.
The boy did not refuse. He accepted it naturally, calmly. As if blessed with sudden insight, he closed his eyes, savoring the novel sensations that each life brought him. The sound of a notification echoed in his mind.
[Detection complete. You have cleansed one hundred and twenty-three "remnant souls"...]
[By accepting their karma and their trust, they have voluntarily transferred their remaining energy to you...]
[Notification: "Life Energy" 30...]
[Host may freely allocate this energy to the "Physique" attribute...]
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