[ His lips didn't smile, but there's a moment where something sharp seems to emerge, like if were Silco in a more pleasant mood, were he a more pleasant man, perhaps he would have. Hell, months ago he might have, but Silco has lost too much now, and the foul man has now been pushed a touch too far. He knows his life is almost over, he knows that now that he understands this fully, the demon he'd contracted with will swallow his soul whole, and everything he worked for was for naught.

Silco wants to destroy worlds, he wants to punish every single one for the crime of not being a place where his daughter exists. He wants to make sure there is a place for her, a place for her to thrive and live like she would have in Zaun, if she hadn't been dying in his arms.

He will never get to see this, he learned. He'd never get to hold his daughter again. He'd hoped, perhaps foolishly, that maybe in this newest batch -- but no. No, Silco would never have what he wanted. He knew that. He was bitter, angry, and he knew that this world, Kenos would never give him what he wanted more than anything in the world. It wanted to take it from him, every time. It made him angry, so angry, rage-filled and uncompromising. It swallowed even the barest threads of amusement from him, and he couldn't keep going, he couldn't have it. ]

I'm not here to pitch to you. [ The 'p', practically popped from his lips. ] There is only our goals. Either you believe that your worlds are worth saving, or you do not. Mine had nothing of value [ left ] and so I made my choice.

If you believe in that, the rest doesn't matter. If you don't, then you can find yourself languishing in defeat under the sunny promises of Meridian.