Kilua's victory over Jiro had come at a great cost. His body was bruised and bloodied, his spirit tested like never before. But there was no time to rest, no time to mourn. The battle for his future was far from over, and the next trial awaited him. As Kilua stood amidst the wreckage of his fight, his thoughts were consumed by what had happened and what was yet to come. He had defeated one of the most dangerous mercenaries in the world, but something felt incomplete.
He could feel the weight of his past pulling him back, a constant reminder that he was never truly free. His victory had given him no peace. Instead, it only deepened his understanding of how much more he had yet to face. The Zoldyck family had not given up their claim on him; they were coming.
Suddenly, a voice interrupted his thoughts. "You've grown strong, Kilua. But it still won't be enough."
Kilua's muscles tensed as the voice sent a cold shiver down his spine. He turned to find a tall, imposing figure stepping out from the shadows. His black cloak billowed in the wind, and his piercing eyes gleamed with an eerie sense of familiarity.
It was Silva Zoldyck, his father.
Kilua's heart skipped a beat. Silva's presence always carried an air of terror—he was the patriarch of the Zoldyck family, the leader of the most notorious assassination clan in the world. Kilua had always feared him, had always run from the expectations and the legacy that Silva embodied.
"Father," Kilua said through gritted teeth, trying to suppress the overwhelming surge of emotions that flooded through him. "What are you doing here?"
Silva stepped forward, his expression unreadable. "I came to see if you're ready," he said simply. "Ready to take your place as the heir to the Zoldyck legacy."
Kilua's eyes flashed with anger. "I've told you a thousand times—I don't want to be a part of that life anymore."
Silva didn't flinch. "You don't get to choose, Kilua. It was never about your choice. You were born into this family, and that means you belong to us. Everything you are—everything you've become—has been because of the Zoldyck name."
Kilua clenched his fists, his Nen flaring around him like a violent storm. "I am not just a Zoldyck!" he yelled, his voice shaking with fury. "I'm my own person. I've fought my way out of that life!"
Silva's gaze remained cold, calculating. "You can fight all you want. But in the end, you will come back to us. The Zoldyck bloodline will always call you home."
Kilua's heart pounded in his chest. He had spent so many years running from his family, from his father, from everything that defined him. But now, standing face to face with Silva, all of the weight he had been carrying came crashing down on him.
"No," Kilua said, his voice breaking the silence. "I will never go back."
Silva's lips curved into a small, almost imperceptible smile. "We'll see about that."
In the blink of an eye, Silva disappeared, his speed so fast that it was almost impossible for Kilua to track. Before he could react, he felt a searing pain in his side as Silva's Nen pierced through him like a blade. Kilua staggered back, his breath catching in his throat, the world spinning around him.
"You think you can escape this life?" Silva's voice echoed in his mind. "You can't. You're a Zoldyck. And no matter how much you fight, you will always be one of us."
Kilua gritted his teeth, refusing to let his father see him falter. He pushed through the pain, focusing every ounce of his Nen into a counterattack. His body surged forward, lightning-fast, but Silva was ready. He anticipated Kilua's every move, dodging and countering with ease.
The battle between father and son was unlike anything Kilua had ever experienced. The intensity of Silva's attacks left him breathless, but Kilua fought back with everything he had, every lesson he had learned, every ounce of strength he had gained.
But Silva was relentless. Every time Kilua thought he had a chance, Silva was there, one step ahead, pushing him to the limits of his ability. The longer the fight dragged on, the more Kilua realized the true nature of this test. It was not just a physical battle—it was a test of will. A test of whether Kilua could truly escape the chains of his family and forge his own path.
Kilua's body screamed for rest, his mind teetering on the edge of exhaustion, but he refused to stop. He had to prove to himself, to everyone, that he was not just a tool of the Zoldyck family. He was more than that.
With a final, desperate surge of power, Kilua unleashed his most powerful Nen attack, a deadly lightning strike that tore through the air like a storm. But Silva was ready. He met the attack head-on, his own Nen flaring in response. The two forces collided, creating a shockwave that sent both of them flying backward.
Kilua hit the ground hard, his body aching from the brutal collision. He struggled to rise, his vision blurry, but he managed to push himself up, his eyes locked on his father.
Silva stood before him, unscathed, his face a mask of indifference. "You're not ready, Kilua," he said softly. "You still don't understand that this world doesn't belong to you. It belongs to us."
Kilua's chest heaved with exhaustion, but his eyes were filled with determination. "I'll never accept that," he said, his voice steady despite the pain. "I will never belong to you. I will forge my own path."
For a moment, Silva said nothing. He simply stared at Kilua, his gaze unreadable. Then, with a sigh, he turned and walked away, his cloak billowing behind him.
"You're strong, Kilua," he said over his shoulder. "But strength isn't enough. You'll understand that one day."
Kilua stood there, bloodied and broken, but resolute. He had been tested, but he had not been broken. His journey was far from over, and this battle with his father had only fueled the fire inside him.
As Silva disappeared into the distance, Kilua looked up at the sky, a new sense of purpose burning in his chest. He was no longer a slave to his past, to his family, or to anyone else.
He was free. And nothing—nothing—could take that away from him.
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