Cold Logic

Klaus was sitting in the abyss.

How delightful, huh?

At least his spirits were with him.

Hemera glowed softly, her light pushing back the endless black, while Klaus lay sprawled like a beast, his body grotesque and alien.

Lich stood nearby, silent for now, but thoughtful.

A sigh escaped one of Klaus's many mouths.

"I don't know, Lich… What can we even do? We're stuck here with no plan. If we don't figure something out, the Tear's going to devour us."

Lich nodded, cracking his skeletal fingers, the sound sharp in the oppressive silence.

"For now, you need to adapt to your new form. But there are other things to discuss too."

Klaus opened his single eye, the pupil narrowing with dull irritation.

"Like what? We're trapped. An abomination, two spirits, and a heap of discarded puppets on a charming little trip to the abyss…"

Lich chuckled under his breath, shaking his head in amusement.

"These Nightmares… fascinating, really. Who would've thought Weaver's little spell would grow into something like this? It's like a living infection—spreading, evolving."

"No shit," Klaus muttered, idly dragging his clawed hands through the dirt, sketching crude mountains. "They're bizarre. What do you make of them?"

Lich paused, thoughtful.

"I think Spell and the Dream God are connected. Without that spell, War God's realm would've already been swallowed by Abominations and claimed by Dream. Maybe Spell appears when corruption takes root... a kind of defense mechanism. It gives the soul a trial—a chance to awaken before soul gets corrupted. But it's only a theory."

He tilted his skull.

"I wouldn't trust that cunning daemon either way."

"Yeah," Klaus snorted. "Trusting Weaver is peak stupidity. That bastard's literally called the Master of Lies."

Lich stood and began carving runes into the ground around the fragment of island they were stranded on—reinforcing the edges, strengthening the structure. The same enchantments he'd once used during the fight with Cormac. If this place crumbled, they were all getting swallowed whole.

Still working, he spoke again.

"Worrying won't help, Master. Let's talk about something useful—how you can grow."

That got Klaus's attention. He shifted his bulk slightly, eye narrowing with interest.

"I'm listening."

"Your ritualistic magic is unique. It's a mirror of your own individuality," Lich said, carefully shaping a sigil. "So why not evolve it? Your sorcery—it's stagnating."

Klaus grimaced.

"You think I haven't tried?"

Lich shrugged, not looking up.

"I know you have. But listen—your relics, they're flawed. They aren't tied to your soul like Memories are. If you found a way to bind them to your essence, that might change things. Your relics already possess will—they're spiritual artifacts, not just tools."

He pressed a palm to the rune, imbuing it with energy.

"And your sacrificial rituals… You could sacrifice your spirit fragments to raise your essence's potency, or use souls to enhance your strength. It's a good theory, I think."

Klaus stayed silent, mulling it over. It did sound plausible.

But none of it helped now.

Flying out of here with Hemera might've worked—if he could even control this wretched body.

Hemera would get exhausted, and without his old form, he couldn't switch with her mid-flight. Back then, they'd take turns—one would rest in the soul, the other would fly. It worked.

Now? He was stuck in a meat puppet stitched from nightmares and limbs.

"Yeah…" he muttered. "It's a decent plan. But I don't give a damn about sorcery right now…"

Lich observed his master in silence, the pale blue flames in his sockets flickering with quiet intensity. He had long since understood that Klaus relished playing the fool—but he was no fool. Quite the opposite.

Cunning. Calculating. Cold.

The battle against Cormac had only reinforced that truth. Klaus was a strategist before anything else, a man whose every action was a thread woven into a grander tapestry of inevitability.

Yet, despite knowing this, Lich couldn't help but ask the question that had festered in his mind for years.

"Master… why did you create us?"

Klaus barely spared him a glance, his many mouths twisting into vague, humorless smirks. With one hand, he absentmindedly traced patterns into the dust, shapes that held no meaning to the untrained eye but spoke volumes to those who understood ritualistic magic.

"Hm… You already know the answer."

Lich tilted his head, the glow in his eyes burning just a fraction brighter.

"Do I?" he paused. "Of course I do."

Klaus merely shrugged, offering nothing more. But Lich was not so easily deterred.

"Let's start with me, then." He leaned back, skeletal fingers steepling. "I was forged for many reasons."

He raised a single bony digit.

"One—I am a relic of an old era. A Seeker of Truth. I possess knowledge that has been long buried, secrets that most dare not even whisper, a forbidden truths."

A second.

"Two—I am a master of barriers. While I lack raw destructive power, my dominion ensures that your citadel remains an unassailable fortress. Dungeoner, Trapper, Master of Barriers, Misty Ways, Necromantica—every skill I wield turns your domain into an untouchable bastion."

A third.

"Three—I have mastered the Sorcery of Names and Runic Sorcery, and though I lack the ability to wield Divine Miracles, my knowledge of them is vast." He paused, his gaze darkening. "Your hunger for knowledge was insatiable, your greed for power bottomless. And you were right to indulge in it—under my tutelage, you ascended beyond mere comprehension. You achieved something unheard of."

A ghost of a smirk touched his skeletal features.

"You created your own sorcery. That alone speaks volumes of your intent."

Klaus remained silent, his expression unreadable.

Lich's gaze drifted to the phoenix, his eerie smile lingering.

"Now, Hemera… Ah, our beautiful girl."

Hemera did not look at him, maintaining her air of aloofness, though Lich noted the slight twitch of her wings at his words.

"She, too, was chosen with purpose."

"One—she carries the blood of the Sun God."

"Two—her flames both heal and annihilate."

"Three—against Creatures of Darkness, she is the ultimate scourge. Her radiance cripples them, rendering them feeble."

"Four—she is immune to fire. Just like your sister."

Lich paused, his tone musing.

"Now that I think about it… if Hemera were to face your sister, who would triumph? Both command soul flames. Both are impervious to fire. It would be a battle of endurance, a slow, grinding war of attrition."

He shook his head, allowing the thought to fade.

"And then, there is Miseria."

He met Klaus's gaze with sharp intent.

"One—she commands the domain of the mind. Her abilities shape emotions, sculpt thoughts, and manipulate perception itself. She weaves dreams and walks their paths unseen."

"Two—she possesses prophetic sight. Diminished, yes, but still invaluable."

"Three—when the time comes to eliminate Asterion, she will tip the scales. Mind against mind. A precise, surgical countermeasure."

Lich let out a dry chuckle, tilting his skull slightly.

"And now…" His gaze sharpened. "You seek to create another."

Klaus rolled his single eye.

"What gives you that impression?"

Lich stared at him, unimpressed.

"Perhaps the fact that you are currently sealing a mass of ownerless true darkness with a ritual circle?"

Klaus's many mouths twisted into their signature wicked grins.

"Correct." His tone was light, almost playful. "I intend to feed all of this darkness to our new companion..."

Lich snorted, shaking his head.

"Let me hazard a guess. You're creating it because…"

He raised a single finger.

"One—Creatures of Darkness are potent. Darkness is an elemental force that devours all it touches."

"Two—if you wield Darkness, you create a natural rival to Light. A direct counter to your sister."

"Three—Darkness overwhelms Shadow. And now that we know Sunless is an Heir of the Shadow God—a Divine Aspect user—you will possess a spirit capable of crippling his power."

"Four—Darkness is the perfect foil to Mordret." Lich's flames flared as he spoke. "A mirror cannot reflect what it cannot see."

He exhaled, as if piecing together a puzzle whose image had finally become clear.

"Meaning… there is purpose behind each of us. We were not chosen at random. Each spirit you forge is meticulously designed to counter the Heirs of the Gods."

Lich's voice grew quieter, more contemplative.

"You are preparing for everything. Every possible war. Every possible enemy."

He let the weight of his words settle before adding, almost in reverence—

"How monstrous. How meticulous. How terrifying you are, Master."

Lich looked up—and froze.

Klaus's many mouths had peeled open into nightmarish, jagged grins, rows of fangs gleaming with a cruel edge. A chorus of laughter erupted from him, a ghastly symphony of amusement, eerie and wrong.

Lich watched as Klaus laughed, utterly unbothered by the horrifying sight.

Finally, Klaus exhaled, his grins stretching wider.

"Better to be prepared than dead." His voice was laced with something dark, something absolute. "And besides…"

His single eye gleamed with cold amusement.

"I do intend to be the strongest."