A War Worth Fighting |DISCONTINUED|

Chapter 9: A Killer or a Saviour?

3414 words.

"Did I do good, Big Brother?" Killua asked. He was around six hundred years old at the time, wearing all black, leather armor with wedged blades soaked in green poison and dripping silken blood. The human target laid lifeless on the ground, scarlet liquid oozing from his punctured heart.

Ilumi sighed, distaste curling at his thin, creased lips, "Kil, what did I teach you about wielding your blade incorrectly. Stabbing him in the heart is instant death, but since the blade is already coated in venom, it's better to aim for an area that won't spill as much blood. Unless they're trained with poisons, they'll immediately be paralyzed, so you'll know at the very beginning of the fight." Regardless, Illumi ruffled Killua's hair when he noticed him wilt. He rubbed smeared blood off his younger brother's plump cheek. "We can train some more when we get home."

The former assassin complained, "Does that mean I have to go to the electric room?"

The first few visits Killua paid to the electric room had him quiver upon the mere mention of the name. He can still vividly recollect the smell of burning skin, the numbing metal strapped to shaky limbs, and the numbers he would think, plain, simple numbers that gave him hope that the torture is finite. And it was. Not because of mercy, no, never that, but it was because his marionette of a body adapted.

"No, no," Illumi shook his head, "we need to work on close combat."

Killua nodded, both siblings slinking into the shadows and becoming transparent to their surroundings. Following his elder brother's trail while they were both invisible wasn't easy, to say the least. Having both of them perfecting the technique, Killua learned to search for the subtlest of clues: a slight change in wind or temperature, a fallen leaf swaying slightly on the ground, or even a piece of grass shifting in an abnormal direction. At home, they were always training, practicing invisibility even when meandering the house while bored or shuffling through the kitchen for snacks.

Killua learned to make both daggers a part of him akin to an extension of his body. He enjoyed it—slicing through the air with natural agility and feeling the wintry air dampen his cheeks — but then, that one day of training that seemed like any other, Grandfather interrupted them, informing Killua that Father wished to speak to him. Bewildered, he complied.

Father perched on woolen cushions that folded wrinkle upon wrinkle. A dim light loomed over, hauntingly capturing every detail under its light, and a chair awaited in front of him, a chair that Killua knew all too well, but unlike everything else, it didn't inflict unbearable pain. "I see your technique is strengthening. I could hardly sense you."

Killua slipped out of the shadows, grinning with innocence—or, whatever could be considered 'innocence' within the Zoldyck estate, "you wanted to see me?"

"Yes," He gestured for Killua to take a seat in the chair across from him, a wooden creaky thing, "I got a letter requesting for you in the Kakin Empire."

"Why? Are they requesting help assassinating a notorious felon? You would think they would have at least someone with enough experience to surpass me. Maybe Big Brother Il-"

"No, it's nothing of the sort."

Killua tilted his head, his perplexion heightening.

"They are inviting a young Zoldyck to train in Heavens Arena, the city of magic, and it'll bring great honor to the Zoldyck name. After some thinking, I decided it should be you."

"Why?"

His father sighed-- a rather deep, husky sound, "Illumi lacks in resolve, Milluki requires strategic intelligence, and Kalluto is missing individuality."