Hunter x Hunter: The Strongest Zoldyck

When Roy said this, he made no attempt to hide it or avoid it.

Naturally, as someone with Nen abilities comparable to a two-star hunter, Sarn heard his words clearly.

He's going to kill me?

A Zoldyck kid?

On what grounds? On what grounds did he make that move that seemed like teleportation?

Did he think I would be unprepared and lose to him using the same move?

"hehe....."

Thinking of this, Saan couldn't help but chuckle:

"You Zoldyck kid, you said you were going to kill me?"

As he spoke, Saen leaned against the mast, slowly stood up, and looked at Roy with a pair of imposing brown eyes:

"Who gave you... this courage... and confidence?"

As soon as the word "letter" was uttered, a killing intent different from Roy's shot out from Saen, instantly enveloping Roy.

Despite being overwhelmed by such intense killing intent, Roy's expression remained unchanged, as if Saen's fierce killing intent was merely a minor breeze.

Aside from blowing a few stray hairs in front of the forehead, it serves no other purpose.

"Can you take good care of him?"

Roy didn't respond to Saen's words, but instead turned to look at the Kurta girl and asked her a question.

"able......"

This time, the girl answered decisively, drawing the short sword from her waist and holding it in front of her chest, keeping a watchful eye on Saen who was not far away.

"That's good......"

Having received an affirmative answer, Roy calmly turned around, his cold gaze sweeping over the tall, muscular figure with brown eyes in front of him. His heart remained unmoved, only filled with the killing intent of the Zoldyck family, mechanically deadly and devoid of any emotion...

"Come... let's fight..."

Facing Saen at the mast, Roy defiantly uttered four words.

"Oh......"

With a soft laugh, Saen did not make any rash moves.

He held out his free left hand, palm up with his index finger slightly bent, and mockingly beckoned to Roy with his little finger.

The meaning is obvious... Come here.

Roy didn't move; he stood there, like a silent stone.

His silver-gray pupils calmly reflected Saan's hooked little finger, his mocking and sneer face, and his oppressive brown eyes.

As the morning light peeked through the clouds, it illuminated the entire deck, casting long shadows of two people.

"What are you waiting for?" Saen's voice drifted over from the mast, not loud, but deep, like a stone thrown into a deep pool, even the echo carried weight.

"Should I make the first move? Or should we wait until you're a little braver?"

Roy still didn't answer. He just slightly adjusted his stance, slid his right foot back half a step, bent his knee slightly, and lowered his center of gravity.

His right hand hung down at his side, his five fingers slightly curled, like a knife yet to be drawn from its sheath.

This is neither an assassination technique of the Zoldycks nor any of the fighting techniques he has learned in this world.

This was an instinct he learned on his own after countless brushes with death, an instinct ingrained in his bones, like breathing...

Minimize exposure when facing a powerful enemy.

Do not take the initiative, do not give the opponent any openings, and do not waste a single ounce of energy.

Like a praying mantis lying in a pile of dead leaves, it retracts its scythe, holds its breath, and waits for the unsuspecting prey to pass by.

Saen's brown pupils contracted slightly...

He had seen this posture before... It was seen in the survivors of the Alliance who had escaped from the edge of the Dark Continent, had been chased by monsters for three days and three nights, and were exhausted but still refused to fall.

That's the hunter's posture that prey learns after being hunted countless times.

It wasn't learned; it's etched into our genes.

Roy wasn't just standing there waiting to die; he was standing there... waiting for Saen to make a mistake.

"interesting......."

With a blink, Saen uttered a soft remark and changed his actions.

He retracted his hooked little finger, extended the dagger in his right hand with the tip pointing downwards, leaned his body slightly forward, shifted his center of gravity backwards, like a cheetah ready to pounce on its prey, the dagger being his hunting claw.

The moment Saen struck that pose, the air on the second deck of the Ogley suddenly became heavy and oppressive.

A chilling, bone-chilling killing intent, as cold as a deep winter wind, silently and powerfully capable of freezing to the bone, suddenly surged from Saan, enveloping the entire deck.

Under such murderous intent, the Kuluta girl's breathing became rapid and labored, and her heart pounded as if it would burst out of her chest.

This was the first time she had faced such intense killing intent...

Gaaaaaah!

Unconsciously, the girl tightened her grip on the short knife, her knuckles turning slightly white. She was somewhat nervous and trembling, but she did not take a step back.

Beside the trembling, tense girl, the red-haired boy Fika was still asleep.

The rough, loud breathing sounded particularly clear on the murderous deck, like a discordant note disrupting the tense and serious atmosphere while also bringing some calm back to the Kuruta girl.

Just then... Saen made a move...

He didn't walk, nor did he rush, nor did he run.....

He... lunged at him!

Like a leopard hunting its prey!

With his body stretched into a straight line, there was no transition between stillness and extreme speed.

His right arm was outstretched, the dagger held in his palm, the tip pointing forward, the blade drawing a cold white arc in the morning light.

Directly targeting this objective...

A Kuruta girl!!!

The girl's pupils suddenly contracted, and she instinctively raised her knife to block.

Crack!

A loud bang suddenly rang out, and the tip of the dagger sliced ​​an inch across the girl's neck, severing a few strands of her hair.

"Are you testing her?"

Roy's voice was flat, as flat as stating a fact.

"Are you still testing me?"

The veins on the back of Roy's right hand bulged, and his knuckles made a fine, cracking sound, like popping beans.

It was because of anger, because of the lingering force of his attack.

Just as the dagger grazed the girl's neck, he suddenly threw a punch—not at her, but at the dagger.

He slammed his fist into the blade of the dagger, blasting the tip an inch from the girl's neck and saving her from death.

As he brushed past the girl, Saan glanced at the dent in the side of his dagger, which Roy had just blasted into, and a slight smile appeared on his lips.

"Neither... It's a tactic, a despicable yet effective tactic..."

"Attack the enemy so that they must defend, disturb their spirit, disrupt their body, and wait in ease for them to tire themselves out... This will achieve twice the result with half the effort."

Saen's voice was calm and indifferent, as if he were talking about a trivial matter...

His brown pupils shifted from the dagger, and his gaze returned to Roy's face, settling on those silver-gray pupils.

Do you know what "certain salvation" means?

Saen gripped the dagger tightly in his other hand.

Roy did not answer.

"Things that must be saved are those that you have no choice but to save."

"For example, her..." Saen raised his hand, the tip of his knife pointing at the Kurta girl.

"And then there's him..." His knife tip moved horizontally, pointing at Fika, who was still fast asleep, then at Roy.

"For example, yourself... Everyone has their own salvation, whether it's themselves or something else."