It had taken him a month.
A whole damned month of flying, hiding, and threading the eye of a needle—dodging the annihilating flames of the Sun God, skimming the edge of death with each breath. Harrowing flames of Sun God is much more powerful now than it is in future. The sky below had almost killed him.
But Klaus had made it.
Now he stood in the heart of the Chain Isles—more toward the eastern edge, where madness had taken root and flourished in the form of Noctis, the Sorcerer of the East. His sanctuary loomed in the distance like a forgotten wound in the world.
Klaus had a plan. A monstrous, glorious plan.
Use the souls of thousands—human, beast, whatever would scream—and offer them in sacrifice to evolve. To shed his limits and become a Titan. The very thought made something deep inside him stir. Hunger. Power. Lust. Hope.
And that was the problem.
Hope's influence was corroding the edges of his sanity like rust. Without Cold-Blooded anchoring him, Klaus wasn't sure if he would even remain sane.
That's why he spent most of the journey meditating. Flying in silence. Holding onto logic, calculation, control—anything to drown out the voices, both real and imagined. Even now, his hands twitched like he was on the verge of slipping.
But if things went wrong, if everything shattered... he still had Devourer. As long as that cursed artifact remained, so did a chance.
He exhaled slowly, eyes drifting over the lush greenery of the island. For a moment, it was almost peaceful.
Then he summoned a memory.
White sparks glowing in the air as a small dimensional bag appeared in his hand. He reached inside and pulled out four more—each of them his own enchanted bags. One by one, he upturned them, spilling their contents.
Mountains of VEX-12 thudded against the earth.
They weren't large. they were smooth, angular casing with gripping ridges. Small retractable claws deploy upon contact. Fist-sized, slightly oblong; sleek matte black finish. Their weight about 1.5 lb.
Improvised devices, crafted in the age after Nightmare Spell twisted the laws of reality. Each bomb glimmered faintly with soul essence and spelltech, humming with quiet menace.
They weren't meant to kill—not really.
Even a Master would probably survive one unless it hit point blank. Transcendents? They could shrug off nuclear, thermonuclear, and hydrogen-class weapons like summer rain. No point wasting resources on that kind of firepower.
This wasn't even about death.
Klaus looked over the small arsenal with satisfaction, then turned to his companions.
Lich stood stiffly, bone fingers twitching. Miseria hovered behind him, barely visible in the sunlight. And Hemera—beautiful, radiant Hemera—glowed faintly with nervous energy.
Klaus grinned, feral and bright. "Let's do this with style. Blow this fucking place up."
Lich's expression was... complicated.
He studied Klaus for a long moment, as if reevaluating his entire existence. Again. It wasn't the first time Klaus had committed atrocities, but Lich was beginning to wonder if there were any crimes left for his master to commit.
He opened his memory cache and reviewed the list:
Hate crimes. Identity theft. Murder. Genocide. Vandalism. Kidnapping. Scamming. Mutilation. Terrorism. Torture. Brainwashing. Bribery. Extortion. Tomb robbing. War crimes. Persecution. Home invasion. Falsification. Mass murder. Incrimination. Stalking. Destruction of property. Illegal trafficking. Production of unregistered weapons. Cannibalism. Experiments on animals. Abominations. Humans. Breach of peace. Treason. Regicide. Loitering. Loitering, really? What is he? Whore? Patricide. Arson. Tax evasion...
Lich shuddered.
Gods, how was this man still breathing? And he had the nerve to ask why people called him the Great Evil?
Klaus shot Lich a weird look. "What's wrong with you? You spaced out."
He unfolded a worn map and pointed at several marked zones. "Anyway. Focus. You three are planting the bombs. I've picked the key spots—cause enough damage to stir the hornet's nest. After that, start searching for cohort. We regroup at Noctis's sanctuary. It's the only place safe enough to serve as a base."
The three nodded, but Hemera hesitated.
"What about you, Master?" she asked softly, eyes flickering with worry.
Klaus's smile turned gentle, almost playful.
"I've got my own mission," he said, reaching out to ruffle her feathers. "I'm going hunting. There's a creature of darkness out there… and I think it's time you got a new sibling."
That startled her—but before she could ask more, he was already turning away.
After another hour of strategy and snark-filled discussion, they split off into the jungle, disappearing into the tangled web of the Chain Isles.
Klaus left them behind. No goodbyes—just silence and a fading presence as he vanished into his own path.
The Chain Isles looked different now. Twisted. In the future, they felt bleak… no, not exactly bleak—just dimmer, dulled. Something vital had been scraped away. Compared to the present, the past was a masterpiece. Because here and now, the Chain Isles were breathtaking—unquestionably the most beautiful place in the entire Dream Realm. Ethereal skies, suspended islands veined with glowing rivers, forests that shimmered like mirages.
He activated the Key of Light.
Reality peeled away. The world shifted, and his eyes were suddenly filled with spiraling, translucent pathways—an infinite lattice of dimensions, all overlapping, flickering in and out of phase. He noticed several rifts among them—dimensional gaps where the fabric of space frayed dangerously thin. He avoided them. Entering one of those would be suicide. With his luck, he'd probably stumble straight into the lair of a sleeping Unholy Titan.
Shaking off that mental image, Klaus reached toward one of the glowing paths. A radiant door formed before him. It opened—and in the blink of an eye, he was gone. Just like that. What felt like a second was a leap across miles.
He began exploring the islands.
The first one was... unimpressive. Nothing of worth. Most Abominations were Awakened rank—fodder, barely functioning beasts. A handful of Fallen-ranked nightmares crawled in the shadows, but even they were pitifully weak. Mindless things.
The second island was even worse. It was too safe—there were roads. Roads. Travelers moving in groups, laughing. That alone told him enough.
The third island had some bite to it. A corrupted Abomination stalked the land, exuding a rotting, aggressive aura. Klaus didn't engage. The thing hadn't noticed him, but if it caught a whiff of his soul... well, better not find out. He slipped away before it had the chance.
By the end of the day, Klaus felt like shit. It was maddening. When he didn't want them, terrifying Abominations dropped from the sky like rain. But now, when he actively hunted them, the world offered nothing but scraps.
He groaned, lying flat on a blanket of moss beneath the open sky, arms folded behind his head, scowling at the stars.
"It's like—if vaginas rained from the sky, I'd get hit by a dick instead."
No plans left to execute. No puzzle to solve. No urgent preparations to distract him. Just him... and irritation.
With nothing else to do, he began to meditate.
Cross-legged, eyes closed—not that it made a difference. He could see perfectly fine with his Divine Eyes of the Void, even with his eyelids shut. But this time, he shut off everything. Sight, sound, touch. He drowned his senses in stillness.
His thoughts slowed. At first, they tangled in frustration—his hunger for a worthy creature, the lingering echo of his strategies. But little by little, even that slipped away.
Eventually, there was only silence.
Night fell. Then morning. Then night again. The sun and moons passed unnoticed. A week drifted by like a ghost.
His body withered slowly—dehydrated, starved—but Klaus didn't feel it. He had detached from it entirely. His physical shell was dying, but he remained somewhere deeper.
And in that state, he realized something unsettling: even if he opened his eyes, he wouldn't see. Even if he pushed his hearing to its peak, there would be no sound. His limbs were numb. Smell, taste, sensation—gone.
It was... peaceful.
Liberating, even. A stillness that reminded him of death, but without fear. No burdens. No ambition. No hunger.
But something gnawed at the edges of his mind. A whisper. A weight. A name he couldn't remember. A guilt he couldn't place.
What is—
"Wake up!"
A voice, sudden and sharp, tore through the veil.
"Hey, young man! Wake up!"
Klaus's eyes snapped open. The Divine Eyes of Void flickered instantly to life, scanning for threats—only to be hit by a searing light that made him wince. He groaned, squinting at the silhouette leaning over him.
A middle-aged man stood there, eyes filled with concern and confusion.
"Thought you were dead," the man muttered, relieved. "Why are you sleeping out here? It's dangerous."
Klaus exhaled slowly, letting his senses catch up with him. His body screamed—his muscles ached, his bones felt like they were breaking, and thirst clawed at his throat.
"I'm fine, sir. Thank you... for waking me," he said quietly.
The man waved dismissively. "No need to thank me. If you're lost, you should come with us. Sanctuary of Noctis is the only safe place left."
Klaus offered a smile. A thin, tired one. He nodded, though his eyes were elsewhere—drifting inward. The idea of sanctuary felt hollow to him now.
He sighed. "You're kind, but I'll be alright. Thank you again. Please, don't linger for me."
The man studied him for a beat longer, then smiled back and nodded. "Alright then. Be safe."
He left with his small group, vanishing down the path.
Klaus remained seated, watching the shadows. Something gnawed at him. If that man hadn't come... if he'd stayed even a few more hours...
"I would've died," he muttered. "My body... would've died."
He clenched his jaw, the reality settling in. "Fuck. I was so close to something."
He stood up stiffly, cursing under his breath. With shaking hands, he reached into his pack and devoured whatever he could find—ready-to-eat meat, canned fruit, some protein bars, energy drinks. It tasted like cardboard and metal.
He really needed to figure out how to freeze time inside storage relics. This was getting ridiculous.
Once he regained enough strength to move properly, Klaus began drawing. Runes etched into the earth with meticulous precision. A concealment circle.
Once finished, he stepped into the center, sat down again, cross-legged.
And he let the world disappear.
Again.