Lesson

Nadia watched Klaus train, her gaze steady as he pushed himself past exhaustion. The boy was relentless—determined, stubborn, diligent, tenacious. He never stopped, never slowed, as if rest was something unthinkable.

Physical training wasn't all that useful for Awakened, not when their power came from something beyond mere flesh. But Klaus still did it, hammering his body into peak condition, chiseling himself into something more. His muscles were lean, balanced, efficient—built for both speed and endurance.

But what truly captivated her wasn't his physicality. It was his aspect.

VoidWalker. A name that felt too small for what it truly was. It was monstrous—an ability with unimaginable potential.

She had been studying him for a while now, fascinated by the way he experimented with his powers. Poseidon—one of the sub-skills he had developed—was nothing short of devastating. Nadia had spent hours watching, analyzing, trying to decipher how he created those earthquakes. And now, she finally understood.

Vibrations.

He was manipulating space itself, sending tremors rippling through the ground with seismic force. But that wasn't all. Since He infused those waves with soul essence. he was giving it mystical quality. By causing the earth to shift and fracture at rapid speeds, he could trigger full-scale destruction. And if he applied that same principle to the air, shaking space itself until it cracked—he could create shockwaves strong enough to shatter landscapes.

That kind of thinking… It was terrifying. And brilliant.

Klaus wasn't some once-in-a-generation prodigy, the kind of genius that only appeared once in a million people. No, he wasn't born with overwhelming talent. He was the kind of person who forced himself into greatness, grinding endlessly, sharpening his skills until they could cut through anything.

And right now, he was trying to create another sub-skill.

Nadia sighed, folding her arms as she watched him fail. Again. And again. And again. He was trying to swap places with a rock—something that, in theory, should be possible. But in reality? His body wasn't handling the sudden shifts in mass and pressure well.

His latest attempt ended in disaster. A sickening crunch filled the air as his leg twisted unnaturally, bone jutting out where it shouldn't be. Nadia grimaced, expecting him to stop. To at least pause and acknowledge the damage.

Instead, a small phoenix, perched on a nearby tree, swooped down and landed on his chest. Flames licked over his broken limb, and within seconds, his injuries were gone.

And then, without a word, he stood up and did it again.

This kid…

Nadia exhaled, rubbing her temple. She wanted to tell him to stop, to breathe, to let himself be human for a moment. But she knew it would be pointless. Klaus had never been a child—never had the luxury of innocence. His life had been a battlefield since the beginning, and he had never known anything else.

Stopping wasn't in his nature.

So she didn't interfere. Everyone had their own path, and while Klaus's was filled with agony and self-destruction, it was his.

And yet…

There was something beautiful about him.

Not his face—he had none. He had ripped it from his own skull, sacrificing his identity to fake his death. The sight of him could send shivers down a weaker person's spine. He was a Faceless thing, stripped of features, existing as something other.

But his spirit?

That was magnificent.

Klaus was an ember that refused to die. A stubborn, unyielding flame that raged against fate, against rules, against mediocrity, against everything. The world had beaten him down, stripped him of so much, and still—he stood. Unbroken. Unbound.

How could she not admire that?

How could she not be moved?

How could her heart not burn with passion when she looked at him?

How could her eyes ever turn away?

She sighed, shaking her head. "Tch. My new brat's a masochist, huh? Lovely."

Still, even monsters had to eat.

"Hey, Klaus! Dinner's ready!"

Klaus stretched his newly healed leg, testing it out before nodding. Without hesitation, he turned and walked inside, already preparing for the next battle.

Nadia watched him go, her lips quirking into a smirk.

Unbreakable, huh?

They sat together, eating. Their routine was a little chaotic—between combat training, survival drills, and mastering his aspect, Nadia had somehow squeezed in lessons on culture, art, and history.

At first, Klaus had been skeptical. What use was painting when power determined everything? Why waste time reading philosophy when brute force could break through most problems?

And yet…

Somewhere along the way, he had started enjoying it.

There was something alive about learning for the sake of it. Power was exhilarating, sure—he was greedy for it, hungry for it—but there was a different kind of satisfaction in dipping a brush into paint, in flipping through pages of a book, in absorbing the wisdom of those who came before him.

History fascinated him. The idea of using the past to build a better future made sense. And philosophy? That was… intriguing. The perspectives of old thinkers were bizarre, yet uniquely insightful. Some spoke of morality, others of purpose, of risk and consequence.

Risks, huh?

Klaus knew all about risks. If you won, you were happy. If you failed, you became wiser. Mistakes were just lessons in disguise.

But if he had to choose? Painting remained his favorite. There was something soothing about it, something beautiful. When he painted, it felt like he was pouring his thoughts onto the canvas—thoughts he didn't always have words for.

Nadia smirked at him from across the table. At least he wasn't a total madman.

Klaus was hers now—her responsibility, her son. She couldn't control him, wouldn't try to force him into anything, but she could offer advice. She could try to show him what happiness looked like. Wasn't that the ultimate goal of every person?

But happiness… was tricky.

Her son was dead. She couldn't even leave the Dream Realm—not with those bastards monitoring her tether day and night, waiting for her to set foot in the waking world so they could kill her the moment she appeared. She couldn't even visit her daughter. Couldn't see if she was alive or not.

Nadia sighed, leaning back and chewing on her meat. Some things just weren't meant to be.

After a moment, she spoke. "Klaus, tell me about your first nightmare."

Klaus paused mid-bite, brow furrowing. "Why?"

She shrugged, offering a lazy smile. "Just curious."

He took a slow sip of water, then looked down. "Hmm… it was strange. The Spell couldn't find a suitable vessel for me, so it threw me into the body of a middle-aged man working in a mine near some town."

Nadia blinked.

That was… impossible.

Nightmares were always tailor-made for aspirants. The Spell didn't just randomly assign bodies.

"I see… how bizarre," she murmured, studying him carefully. "So how did you clear it? If what you're saying is true, then you wouldn't have had a single enemy. No clear threat."

Klaus nodded. "I didn't."

She frowned. "You didn't?"

"I mean, there wasn't an enemy," he clarified. "And I didn't bother looking for one. Or searching for a resolution to whatever 'conflict' I was supposed to solve."

Nadia's mind stalled.

Then how the hell did he clear it?!

"So… what happened?" she asked, her curiosity now fully piqued. "What did you do?"

Klaus shrugged, pulling a cigarette from his pocket. He lit it with an easy flick of his fingers, exhaling a slow stream of smoke.

"I mined," he said simply. "And mined. And mined. Until—bingo. Methane."

Nadia's eyes narrowed.

Methane?

As if sensing her confusion, Klaus continued, his tone casual, almost lazy.

"Methane forms over millions of years, deep underground. The pressure and temperature conditions in mines make it common. And once I found it…" He smirked, tapping the cigarette against the ashtray. "I got creative."

Nadia leaned in, her stomach tightening.

"Gunpowder," Klaus said. "75% saltpeter. 15% charcoal. 10% sulfur."

Her breath hitched.

He couldn't have—

"I connected the gunpowder to the mine, let it trail all the way outside. Then, I lit it up and ran before the chain reaction could reach the methane."

A slow grin spread across his lips.

"The mine was right under the town," he finished. "So when the explosion hit… well…" He gestured vaguely, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"I blew the whole place to hell. Every building. Every person. All of them—whether they were my allies or enemies, I didn't care. The entire town was gone."

Silence.

Nadia just stared at him.

Her jaw slackened. Her mind went blank.

She had expected a story about some terrifying monster. A battle of survival. A desperate struggle against an unbeatable foe.

Not this.

Not a kid casually blowing up an entire town—including his own supposed allies—because he had decided fuck it, I'm nuking this whole thing from underground.

Her eye twitched.

"…Damn."

Klaus smirked wickedly, exhaling another cloud of smoke. Sight of his smile was horrifying.

Nadia leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples.

Her son was a lunatic. That much was clear.

But, well… she couldn't say she was disappointed.