[16]: Meeting
As Sid had warned, Cyr's missed three days of training were compensated for—doubled in intensity.
He had no complaints about the training itself, but one issue persisted: despite his relentless efforts, he still couldn't trigger a Black Flash.
"Is my luck really that bad?" Cyr muttered, sitting cross-legged on the rubble-strewn ground, staring at his clenched fists.
His cursed energy control was flawless, and his punches packed the right speed and power. So why couldn't he activate Black Flash?
"You've made significant progress, so why the long face?" Sid asked, towering over him. His broad frame cast a shadow across Cyr, his tone puzzled.
Cyr's improvement was undeniable. At first, he was always bruised and battered, his face unrecognizable. Now, though his body still bore minor wounds, his face remained unmarred.
The white-haired, blue-eyed youth, with dark markings on his face, sat amidst the rubble like a king on a throne of bones in a grand, gilded hall. His mere presence drew the gazes of both children and priests.
"It's not enough…" Cyr leaned his head back, half-closing his eyes. His tone was filled with discontent.
"This level of power is far from sufficient."
"I want greater strength. The kind of strength that can—"
"Break through your or Uvogin's defenses and punch clean through your bodies in a single blow." He spread his fingers, his tone laced with obsession, his eyes gleaming.
He was captivated by the thought of overwhelming power, driven by a greed for strength.
In truth, he simply relished the image of striking down the mighty. It seemed exhilarating.
"You're one greedy bastard, aren't you?" Sid didn't sound angry or mocking. Instead, he scratched his head, seemingly at a loss for words, before offering a wry smile.
"If I don't grow stronger, what's the point?" Cyr pulled out a handkerchief, pressing it against his nose. After a moment, the fabric was soaked in blood. His voice was muffled but earnest.
He hadn't forgotten the system's initial warning: this world was high-risk.
Especially the vast, dangerous Hunter World, with its forbidden lands beyond the known continents. Cyr wanted to see it all.
Since he was here, he might as well explore. His first small goal? To travel the world.
"While I don't entirely agree with your mindset, if that's what you're aiming for, give it your all. The path to strength is endless, so work hard," Sid said, frowning slightly before giving Cyr a thumbs-up.
He would help craft Cyr's training plans but wouldn't interfere with his ambitions.
With that, Sid turned and headed for the church.
As a priest stationed in District Two, he rarely left. The church was his usual haunt.
The children, who had been quietly watching, saw Sid leave and knew today's training session was over. They quickly formed a chain, hand in hand, and ran up to Cyr.
"Thank you, sir!" they shouted with bright smiles.
Cyr blinked, puzzled. Why were they thanking him? Had he done something good? Impossible. He was sure he'd done nothing but train and fight since arriving in Meteor City.
"Tara and the others have returned! Thanks to the church, we can live like this." The children held hands, their numbers larger than before.
Their sunny smiles were a stark contrast to Meteor City's gloomy skies.
"…Oh." Cyr thought for a moment, recalling that his initial task was to investigate the children's disappearance.
But in truth, Cyr had completely forgotten about the missing children during his rampage. It must have been Pampas who eventually freed them.
"Get this straight, I'm not some kindhearted hero here to save you," Cyr said, wagging his index finger in front of the kids. His lips curled into a mocking smirk, his tone intentionally cruel.
"I couldn't care less whether you live or die," he added nonchalantly.
Just as he didn't bother to remember their names or faces—after all, they weren't worth remembering unless their strength impressed him.
"We know we're not worth much right now, but this is our way of thanking you!" The kids, undeterred by his arrogant and cold attitude, smiled even brighter. They handed him three flower crowns and, before Cyr could reject them, ran off hand in hand.
The crowns were woven from plain white flowers, small and simple, yet charming in their own way. These were the most common flowers in District Two.
"…What strange kids," Cyr muttered, staring at the crowns without a flicker of emotion.
The gesture didn't move him, nor did their bright smiles leave him dazed.
Of course, it wasn't their fault—he simply wasn't wired that way.
Still, he found their reactions amusing. Despite his blunt and indifferent demeanor, they responded cheerfully, even acknowledging their current lack of value.
In Meteor City, even the well-protected children of District Two embraced the concept of "value."
To them, being valuable was the key to survival. That's why they initially hesitated to ask Pampas for help in finding their missing friends, believing their worthlessness would lead to rejection.
While District Two sheltered, protected, and educated them, it never sugarcoated the harsh reality of the world.
This juxtaposition of brutal honesty and gentle care struck Cyr as both cruel and oddly tender.
Lost in thought, Cyr picked up the three flower crowns and headed for the church.
"Sid, the kids gave you these," he called out as he tossed the crowns at Sid.
"Why are there three? And why would they give me these?" Sid asked, baffled as he caught the crowns.
"The extras are probably for you to wear as bracelets," Cyr replied nonchalantly before disappearing in a flash.
Sid didn't even have time to respond. Left alone, he could only stare at the crowns, eventually deciding to carefully set them aside.
Meanwhile, Cyr was en route to District One.
He intended to check in with Pampas—specifically to see if they had tracked down the individual with the teleportation ability. If they had, he wanted a turn to "play" with them. If not, he was ready to give Pampas a little nudge.
Pampas was usually stationed at the church in District One. Cyr had always been able to find him there, but today, the church was eerily empty.
"No one's here?" The grand hall was deserted, cold and quiet, with only rows of empty chairs.
Cyr scanned the area, his gaze eventually settling on a specific wall.
The barrier couldn't block his Six Eyes, revealing a group of figures gathered in one of the church's rooms.
Every single one of them radiated the unmistakable aura of a Nen user, their life energy far surpassing that of ordinary people. In the Six Eyes' view, they burned brightly.
Pampas, in particular, stood out like a beacon of vitality.
Cyr suppressed his energy and crept toward the room in silence, curious to see what kind of meeting they were having behind closed doors.
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