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Silva smiles.
Big arms and bright hair, the Zoldyck reclines into the couch in his chambers. Nostrils of a large beast blow from his left, and the neon flames throw shadows across the walls.
The assassin is content. Thick fingers evolved to crush bone tap at the cleft on his chin.
Yes, he'd expected things would turn out this way. His predictions came true. Almost like a child's dream.
Only this is no child, and any association with Zoldyck's is no blissful dream; just nightmares.
His eldest son conveyed the facts, the little bits of data the family has struggled to obtain on their blessed heir. Killua remains unseen and untouched; but not unnoticed.
Just the slightest of cookie crumbs left for a starving beast to chase. There is no trace of the boy, except in the extemporary storms that appear inexplicably on radar, and the clean kills trailing behind.
Oh yes, his son has regained some of his Zoldyck sense. The boundaries they had wired into his brain since he was but a babe had been tampered with by an unseen force they'd had to face. A mere stupid boy.
A boy who took their golden child and spat morals about like a symphony. And Silva had let him. Yes, he'd let the stupid boy take his son from his walls. Why had he done so?
He knew. Their friendship would not last.
Silva didn't program Killua for companionship. Killua is bred to perfection; fine tuned to be the most sacred Zoldyck yet. No mere forest fool could change that.
He knew.
If Killua didn't kill this 'friend' first, it'd only take time before he gets hurt instead. Just as foretold, he had monitored his son and observed as the Zoldyck gave every piece of himself to a boy who broke things.
A fool indeed. Had he been the wiser, that island kid would have had the one of the most powerful weapons at his right hand.
But no simpleton could wield something with so much worth. Killua and this boy had parted ways some two years ago; an inevitability.
Unaccording to plan however, his son had also snatched the thing in his basement from under his feet. And instead of coming home, Silva could only watch as his heir faded until his presence was no longer on grid.
Some definite kinks in the preferred prediction, but one small fact has reached his ears on this day, and it made up for all the other indecencies.
Killua is still killing.
Oh what wonderful words to hear.
It is scarcely, but a beginning nonetheless. It is finally the moment he's waited for, the start of his blessed son's rising. He knows not whether the heir would ever return to them again.
But Killua is for certain climbing that peak of power. It is only a matter of time before the silver child will reach heights as great as all the greats.
So Silva smiles; and his fingers tap again.