Klaus tumbled from the ruined husk of the ship, his body hitting the scorched earth with a dull thud. He dragged himself a few paces forward before collapsing onto his back, breath ragged and shallow.
Lifting his gaze, he stared at what remained of his arm—or rather, what didn't. The limb was a mess of shredded flesh and scorched bone, mangled beyond recognition. Striker of Heavens had annihilated the Sun Prince… but it had exacted its price in kind.
All things considered, Klaus was utterly wrecked. His abdomen had been slashed open, ribs fractured, nerves frayed. His essence reserves were nearly depleted—down to his last core, and even that flickered at barely 50%.
He sighed through clenched teeth, the pain a dull roar beneath his skin. With a grunt of disgust, he rolled onto his back, squinting up at the moonlit sky that looked far too peaceful for the carnage below.
"Goddamn it," he muttered, voice low and frayed as he sent a mental command to Hemera. "Come patch me up, sunshine…"
Then, closing his eyes, he exhaled like a man finally surrendering to the weight of everything, and added in a tone of tired finality—
"Fuck it. I'm sleeping."
____
Cassie made her way toward the ruins of the shattered ship, her steps unsteady, more instinct than grace. She wasn't in much better shape than the wreckage—her essence was depleted, her vision stolen entirely. True blindness had finally set in, leaving her to grope through a world of darkness. The Quiet Dancer floated beside her, its blade whispering guidance as she leaned on its presence, following the last memory of where she'd seen him.
She could still see the future of her friends—hazy, flickering strings of fate that told her they would survive. But Klaus... Klaus was different. She couldn't see his future. Not because he was dead—at least she hoped not—but because something was blocking her. It scared her more than death. Her breath came shallow, heart pounding like war drums in her ears.
Anxiety wrapped itself around her like a second skin—thin, invisible, yet suffocating. Each breath came shallow and uncertain, her shoulders hunched like she expected fate itself to strike her down. Her unseeing eyes flickered with desperate energy, wide and trembling like twin candle flames in a storm.
"Nik! Where are you?!" she shouted, voice raw and fraying.
She stumbled forward, but her foot caught on a shattered plank of wood. She fell hard, her palms scraping against the scorched debris. Pain flashed, but it was nothing compared to the fury and helplessness surging in her chest.
She cursed—softly, bitterly—memories of the Forgotten Shore crashing over her. Memories of how weak she'd been. How useless she'd felt.
And yet now… now, she didn't care about anything. Not about the war. Not about fate, victory, or failure. None of it mattered. She just needed to find him.
Had she really been so blind to her own feelings? Or had it taken Hope's twisted influence to finally make her see how much he meant to her? How utterly irreplaceable he was?
He could be dead.
She clenched her fists. No. No, he couldn't be. He couldn't.
Memories tore through her like blades. The way he smiled, even when everything was falling apart. How he joked in that cursed nightmare, even when he was suffering more than anyone. That ridiculous grin, that ego, the way he tried to hide how much he cared. He had fought Hope longer than anyone. He had resisted it—she knew he had. That was him.
Quiet Dancer floated beside her, its form a graceful blur as it helped her back to her feet.
She would find him.
She wouldn't make the same mistakes she had on the Forgotten Shore. She was done being a slave to fate. Done being a puppet to her visions. She loathed her true name. She loathed what it had cost her. What it would still cost.
And even if she had to abandon every ambition, every meticulously laid plan, every scrap of bitterness and hate she'd nurtured—she would find him.
All she wanted was him.
"He's mine..."
She muttered, her expression a contorted blend of madness and desire.
It was a need as primal as breath. As fierce as flame. Maybe it was the uncertainty—whether he was alive or dead after throwing her to Hemera—that made it so unbearable. She hadn't seen anything after that.
And not knowing…
Not knowing was killing her.
____
Klaus snapped his head aside, narrowly evading the blade that cleaved the air where his skull had just been. He opened his eyes, weariness and annoyance flickering across his face as he slowly sat up, brushing splinters from his coat.
"Motherfucker... you're dead, whoever you are."
He shook his head and climbed to his feet, but the figure before him was not what he expected. Towering in the dim wreckage stood a fearsome Shadowspawn, draped in shadows like a shroud. It gazed at him with a void-like indifference.
Klaus arched a brow and leaned casually against the scorched wood behind him, suspicion blooming in his eyes.
"Sunny...? What the hell are you doing here?"
Sunny didn't respond. He summoned the Midnight Shard that manifested from white sparks—and vanished.
Klaus cursed under his breath, body taut with readiness.
Then it came—a whisper of movement, the faintest shift in air—and Sunny struck from shadows, his blade tearing through the gloom.
Klaus twisted with a snarl, barely dodging the slash. He kicked Sunny back and followed with a brutal punch to the face, the blow laced with stored kinetic energy. A secondary explosion rippled from the impact, but Sunny didn't stagger.
Instead, he seized Klaus by the leg and swung him like a doll, intending to smash him into the ruined deck.
Klaus vanished in a burst of light, reappearing several meters away with Satan in hand.
Sunny was no longer alone with the Midnight Shard. Crimson charm glowed at his chest, and chains wrapped tightly around his armor—a Memory of the Transcendent rank: Undying Chains.
He disappeared again.
Klaus parried the ambush just in time, redirecting the blade with a deflection from Satan, then swept the weapon in a slashing arc. But it was bait. The Chains absorbed the attack, and Sunny surged forward to exploit the opening.
Klaus phased through him, his body becoming insubstantial. He twisted, driving his spear into the gap in the chains. Barbs hooked into them, and Klaus heaved, flinging Sunny into the deck and amplifying the impact with bone-crushing gravitational force.
But Sunny dissolved into shadows again.
His tail whipped around like a scythe.
Klaus barely raised his spear in time. The impact sent him flying, crashing through broken beams and landing in a brutal heap. Blood sprayed from his mouth. He coughed and groaned, struggling to stand.
"Son of a—" He wheezed, pressing a hand to his ribs. "Good thing Hemera patched me up... otherwise I'd be toast."
He glanced around. Loki and Hemera were exhausted. Lich? Busy elsewhere. Miseria? Same.
Could he summon Hassan?
No. Let him rest. He'd need him later.
So it was just him.
Klaus exhaled slowly, softening his skin and bones with Faceless to dampen the pain. His essence reserves were low. Intangibility drained too much. Using Shiva or Poseidon was out of the question unless he wanted to cripple himself for the battles ahead.
He gritted his teeth, straightening. "Just me... and my damned luck."
Klaus rested his spear on his shoulder, a twisted grin crawling onto his bloodstained face.
"I don't know what's got into you, but screw it. You sneaky-ass bastard—you should be ashamed you exist. Equivalent of sentient dogshit."
he surged forward, spear flashing in a whirlwind of precise thrusts. Sunny parried, falling into a defensive rhythm. Klaus feinted high, then slashed low like a cleaver—but the Undying Chains were too strong, his attacks bouncing harmlessly.
Sunny melted into shadow and slipped down the wrecked hull, materializing with Morgan's Warbow in hand. The arrow he loosed exploded with thunder.
Klaus teleported skyward, raising a radiant white blade. With a sneer, he unleashed a column of white fire that cascaded downward like a divine waterfall, devouring everything in its path.
Sunny braced behind a massive shield. The flames roared and raged—but as they died down, he still stood, scorched but intact.
Klaus shot downward like a meteor, gravity amplifying his descent. His spear, now blood-red, tore through the sky. When it hit, the impact cracked the very air itself. Amethyst light erupted outward in a seismic burst.
Sunny was hurled like a ragdoll.
Klaus followed, no mercy in his eyes, no pause in his steps. His grin twisted, eyes wild. He hardened his flesh, compacted his bone density, and flooded his body with stored kinetic energy.
Sunny raised his shield, but instead of bracing—he abandoned it. In the same breath, he raised the Midnight Shard for a vertical counter.
Klaus dropped low, catching the blade with his spear—but the moment their weapons clashed, an inferno detonated.
Fire engulfed him.
He hit the ground like a corpse, half his body scorched, his jawbone exposed through mangled flesh. Steam hissed from his skin.
"Bloody hell..."
He spat blood and rolled his eyes.
That damned shield. It had been storing portion of impact damage it received from Klaus and then channeled it into the blade in a single immolating wave of fire.
He hadn't known. And now he was paying for it.
Lack of intel always pissed him off the most.
"Next time," he muttered through cracked lips, "I'll break your damned toys first."
Sunny walked toward Klaus—silent, indifferent, and about as emotionally available as a rock.
Klaus glared at him from the rubble like he'd just been forced to sit through twelve hours of someone explaining NFTs. He was done. Not just tired—cosmically, universally, soul-grindingly DONE.
Nothing was going according to plan. Everything was sideways. Improvisation was now his religion, and every second felt like an unscripted nightmare.
"Fuck the plan," he muttered, staggering to his feet. "Fuck you, fuck the government, fuck the Chain Isles, fuck fate, fuck my back pain, and—oh, especially fuck you, you moody void-snorting leather-wearing silent-treatment LARPer!"
Sunny raised his blade.
The Undying Chains dissolved into sparks, leaving only the Midnight Shard and the Blood Blossom charm. It wasn't reckless—just efficient. Klaus was toast anyway, and those damn chains sucked essence like a greedy tick on a diabetic unicorn.
Klaus saw the blade rise, and instead of flinching, he grabbed it and yanked it toward his own neck. His eyes were twitching. His voice cracked. He was shaking—but not with fear. With rage. With exhaustion. With the kind of emotional spiral that made gods drink.
"DO IT, MOTHERFUCKER!" he howled, veins bulging like overcooked pasta. "You think I care anymore?! You think I fucking care?! I've got months—MONTHS—of memories of your weird little emo ass running around like a depressed shadow ferret, and guess what?! Only TWO of them are pleasant!"
He held up two shaking fingers for emphasis, the rest of his body convulsing like a caffeinated squirrel.
"Just two! One where you accidentally smiled like a normal person, and one where you tripped and ate shit on a stair! The REST? Fucking garbage! It's just you skulking around muttering edgelord haikus and brooding like Batman forgot to invite you to his birthday party!"
He stepped closer, pure chaos radiating off him like gamma waves.
"So DO IT, you silent, cryptic, walking Tumblr post! FUCKING DO IT! END ME! GUT ME LIKE A FISH IN A GAS LEAK! STAB ME IN THE HEART AND WRITE 'ANGST' ON MY GRAVE!"
He paused, blood dripping down his chin, eyes wide with deranged passion.
"I DARE YOU, YOU BITCHLESS SHADOW-GIMP! YOU SWORD-FETISH ZEN MASTER! YOU NIGHT-THEMED PANIC ATTACK IN ARMOR! COME ON! DO IT, MOTHERFUCKER!"
Sunny raised his blade, prepared to end the tantrum-throwing madman in front of him—until a ripple in the air caught his senses. A whisper of shadow slithered from behind. In a split-second reaction, Sunny ducked, narrowly avoiding a stream of molten metal that surged toward his neck like a serpentine predator. He lashed out, blade slashing through it—but, of course, to no effect. The metal reformed with eerie fluidity, untouched and taunting.
At that exact moment, Klaus's head snapped forward, his jaw unhinging with a grotesque crack. His teeth lengthened into jagged fangs, monstrous and predatory. Though his arms were bound by pain and exhaustion, his fury was not. With a savage leap, he lunged forward and bit into Sunny's neck—even as the other plunged his blade through Klaus's abdomen.
Sunny's claws tore into him, shredding flesh and cracking bone, but Klaus held on, refusing to let go. His eyes gleamed with manic rage and grim delight. And then—his mouth began to glow.
Deep within his throat, a crimson spark flickered to life—a speck no larger than a grain of sand, yet pulsing with catastrophic power. A miniature vortex of swirling red light formed, surrounded by spiraling dust of glowing embers.
And then—it fired.
The crimson bolt erupted from Klaus's jaws, striking Sunny's neck with the force of a cannon blast. The shockwave tore through the Reflection, ripping its head clean off in a burst of raw force. Klaus was hurled backward, his lower jaw completely obliterated by the recoil—fangs shattered, flesh torn. He crashed onto the ground, coughing up blood, his face barely intact.
[You have slain an Ascended Reflection, Mirror Devil.]
Sunny's headless form stood for a brief moment longer—then shattered, fragmenting into countless mirror-like shards before disintegrating into nothing.
Klaus lay still, clutching his ruined face, pain rippling through every nerve. But more than that, there was bitter confirmation in his bloodied expression.
So it was a fake.
A Reflection.
Mordret's, no doubt.
Without access to his Divine Eyes, Klaus couldn't peer into the soul of the creature. But the hints were clear enough—the false demeanor, the hollow mimicry. He grimaced and shook his head in disgust.
"Tch... pitiful," he muttered, voice warped from the torn muscles of his face. "And here I was, hoping it was actually him... That bastard."
With a sigh, he summoned the power of Faceless, his body warping slightly as bone and flesh reconfigured. His shattered jaw reattached itself with a sickening crackle, ligaments stitching together with uncanny precision.
A gleaming sword of pure white appeared in his hand—Leviathan. It shimmered beneath the starlit sky, humming with divine radiance.
He didn't hesitate.
With a grunt, he drove it into his own chest.
[Enchantment: Nourishing Flames – When fully charged by using souls as fuel, can heal any wound.]
White fire engulfed him, roaring with sacred heat. His body lit up in purifying light as every gash, tear, and fractured bone was restored. The pain vanished. The agony was soothed. Moments later, Klaus lay healed—and, to his irritation, completely naked.
He clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Great. Absolutely great," he muttered, dragging himself upright. "Used a legendary enchantment for a goddamn knockoff. What a fucking waste."
With a sigh, he summoned the first armor set that came to mind—something modern and militaristic, black fabric and tactical plating. Not exactly his style, but it was better than parading around bare-assed under moonlight.
As he stood, preparing to leave this cursed place behind, a voice called out behind him—silken, almost affectionate.
"Well now... It's been quite some time, hasn't it? Oh, how I've missed you, little brother."
Klaus froze.
The smirk forming on his face—ready for a taunt, a sneer, a good old-fashioned beatdown—died instantly. He turned slowly, gaze sharp.
And there he saw him.
Mordret.
But not alone.
His hand was casually pressed against the back of a trembling figure—Cassie. Her body quivered, not only from exhaustion but from the sheer terror coiling through her like poison. Mordret smiled with unnatural sweetness, as if this were a pleasant family reunion and not a hostage situation.
Klaus's eyes narrowed, his body still, mind spinning.
Mordret's expression was calm, serene even, like a man who'd already won. "Now now," he said gently, as if speaking to a child. "I think... we need to talk, don't you, traitor?"
***
Well, how was it?
Mordret didn't go for Ivory Dragon, instead for Klaus's head. Maybe I don't remember what memories Sunny was using at that time, so if there's any error, please tell me.
Aside from that, i think it was pretty good fight to compare strength of Klaus and Sunny. Sunny's still weaker but he will grow stronger and perhaps surpass Klaus in future. Who knows?
How was Klaus crashing out? Was it funny?! Or not? I think i was pretty creative with insults. Well, if there's any errors, be it grammatical or something in story i forgot, please remind me kindly.
Also, what do you think? What kind of ascended ability should i give Klaus? I have idea about it but i want ro hear your opinions as well. And if you have any ideas, don't be shy to tell, maybe it helps me to gain inspiration. Be it criticism, advice or anything helpful, please don't hesitate.
And lastly, happy you all enjoying story and thanks for your support. Till we meet again:)
***