Reunion

While Klaus was enthusiastically roasting Sunny and Kai—with Effie cackling like a hyena in the background—the atmosphere of the Sanctuary shifted with uncanny abruptness.

Klaus halted mid-sentence, his smug smirk fading as he turned his gaze toward the distant horizon. The sky did not darken, but the air certainly did. A miasma of dread slithered through the trees, and with it came a stench so foul, so utterly revolting, that it felt like someone had gathered every corpse from every battlefield in history and lovingly piled them at their front door like a grotesque housewarming gift.

Even veterans of war would have retched. Effie, ever brave, covered her nose with both hands and gagged.

"Holy gods! Who died?" she hissed.

Klaus gave her a look. "Effie, my dear, I fear the better question is who didn't."

He tilted his head toward Sunny, his expression now taut with worry. His fists clenched, the shadows at his feet thickening, writhing like snakes sensing a storm. If this was the work of a corrupted Abomination… perhaps Noctis could handle it. But if a battle truly erupted—between Transcendents, no less—how many innocent souls would be left breathing?

Scratch that.

Would any of them survive at all?

"Sunny," Klaus murmured, his voice quiet but sharp, "reach out. Sense the shadows. Tell me what's coming."

Sunny had already drawn his weapon. He stood frozen, sweat glistening on his brow as he closed his eyes. His shadow sense rippled outward like a stone tossed into still water. A moment passed. Then another.

His face paled.

"There's… hundreds," he whispered. "But they don't feel alive. They're not beasts. They're more like… puppets. Controlled by something. A Tyrant. A powerful one."

He spat in frustration. "Damn it. We can't catch a break!"

Klaus clicked his tongue, already drawing upon the essence within. If these were undead-type Abominations, he knew precisely how to deal with them. White sparks danced along his arm, coiling into radiant spirals before gathering at his palm. A beautiful blanc sword emerged—slender and of delicate beauty. It was elegant, ceremonial in design, its intricate patterns glowing with pale light. its blade far too elegant to be used for anything as uncouth as killing.

But despite its almost ornamental appearance, Leviathan ignited with Sun God's Flames.

"Alright, screw diplomacy." Klaus muttered with annoyance. "im grilling zombie ass today."

The trees parted.

From the edge of the forest emerged monstrosities. Grotesque creatures with too many limbs, twisted and made of bone and rot. faceless flying terrors with wings stitched from skin. And crawling horrors from a child's nightmare with claws like broken scythes. The ground trembled under their numbers.

The cohort, now alert and ready, summoned their Memories, steeling themselves.

Klaus, meanwhile, stared at a fly skittering across the ground—yes, a fly—and mumbled absently, "Guys… serious thought. If a fly loses its wings… is it still a fly? Or is it now just… a walk?"

The cohort, who had braced themselves for a life-or-death struggle, nearly tripped over their own feet.

"Klaus, what the hell?!" Kai snapped.

Sunny, however, looked genuinely intrigued.

"Huh... that actually makes sense…"

Klaus nodded with frown.

"Right?"

"It DOESN'T, you imbecile!" Effie shrieked, slapping Klaus upside the head. "Shut up! I can feel my brain cells dying!"

Klaus only chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. But then… he paused.

Feeling familiar echo in the depths of his spirit.

He hadn't noticed before, too distracted by the delightful scent of scorched meat and the looming threat of a monster apocalypse, but now it was unmistakable. That cold, ancient pressure. That dry, crumbling essence. And beside it, the bitter chill of a sorrowful wraith.

A second later, his laughter erupted.

"Oh, for the love of irony."

From the midst of the monstrous horde, figures emerged. Not beasts. People. More than thousand.

Leading them was Lich—towering, skeletal, draped in tattered robes with a regal disdain for fashion. Miseria floated beside him like a specter carved from grief, her eyes glowing dimly with spectral weariness.

But it was the third figure that stole the breath from Klaus's lungs.

A young woman walked gracefully beside them, her presence outshining even the grotesque army that trailed behind. She wore a simple blindfold over her hidden eyes. Her midnight hair was tied in a stylishly chaotic bun, as though she had rolled out of bed in the middle of a fashion magazine shoot. Her skin was porcelain, kissed with an glacial sheen that glimmered in the sunlight like moonlight on snow.

Effie, Kai, and Sunny stared at the oncoming procession with confused horror. If they hadn't known about Lich and Miseria, they probably would have launched a full attack then and there.

Because, well… hundreds of abominations at your doorstep tends to make one just a little paranoid.

Klaus blinked once, then rubbed his eyes to be certain. Amethyst light glowed from his irises as they locked on her. A soft smile curved his lips.

Leviathan vanished with a flash into his spirit sea. Hands in the pockets of his elegant haori, he stepped forward like a gentleman meeting an old flame at a masquerade ball and stepped forward with a casual grin.

"Well, well... long time, Cas. Missed me?"

Cassie smiled—subtle, relieved, and unmistakably genuine. The tension in her shoulders softened like ice melting beneath spring sun, and her poise returned as gracefully as it had fled. She opened her mouth to speak—

Thump.

Someone landed with the gentleness of a falling leaf and the weight of a god. Klaus blinked. Then blinked again.

Descending from his chambers with all the theatrical timing of a dramatic soap opera reveal, Noctis emerged. His robes trailed like stormclouds, his hair perfectly tousled as if he hadn't spent the last several hours in a silk cocoon of luxury and narcissism.

"Uhh…" Klaus raised a brow. "Noctis? My dearest teacher? Hello? Master of Mirrors? Lord of Looming Narcissism? Anyone home?"

Noctis ignored the jabs—classic behavior of a man with no soul and too much eyeliner—and turned to the pale beauty with a face that could kill and a stare that probably already had.

"An Eyeless," he intoned, as if spitting wine into a silk glove. "From the Night Temple. Isn't it... terribly far for a blind priestess to waltz this deep into the east? Alone? Unsummoned?" His voice dropped into a silken blade. "Speak, girl. What is it you want?"

Cassie, to her credit, kept smiling—politely, serenely, like someone used to being interrogated by immortals and incels. She dipped into a bow so elegant it would have offended gravity. Klaus looked about ready to say something but visibly swallowed it with displeasure, along with the last shred of his patience.

And just as she opened her mouth—

Yawn.

The sound echoed like the sigh of a thousand forsaken responsibilities.

A massive Abomination lumbered forward, carrying someone atop its head like a sleepy deity being chauffeured by death incarnate. Draped in black and the attitude of someone too lazy to lift a spoon, the High Priestess of the Night Temple waved her hand vaguely, as if acknowledging mere mortals was a legal requirement.

"It is I, Noctis," she announced flatly, like a voicemail. "Please calm down. You're being… so unpleasant."

Noctis stared at her like he'd just seen a pig fly into a library and recite poetry.

"You—wait—you left your bed?!" he gasped. "Hold the stars! Someone alert the heavens! This is cause for celebration! But… dearest, what in the name of star-damned moons are you doing here?"

The Blessed of the Black Skies, reclining lazily against the horn of her undead Uber, cracked open one glowing eye and said with the passion of a tax accountant:

"Ask him." She tilted her head at Klaus. "The bloody one. Still chewing."

Noctis turned, slowly. His gaze fell on Klaus—who stood there, one hand very awkwardly behind his back.

"My beloved student," Noctis said sweetly, a smile blossoming like an impending funeral. "Would you mind explaining… the situation? And while you're at it, perhaps shed some light on why you're currently eating roasted human flesh?"

The silence that followed could have shattered steel.

Klaus blinked, then subtly shifted the mystery skewer behind his haori as if he could make it cease to exist through sheer embarrassment.

Effie opened her mouth, then shut it. Then opened it again. Then decided words were too dangerous and let the silence speak for her.

Kai tilted his head. His lie-detecting abilities short-circuited somewhere around "skewer."

Sunny looked like he had just solved the world's most cursed riddle and wished he hadn't.

And then, with all the delicacy of a guillotine drop, Cassie tilted her head and added—her voice honeyed and just slightly murderous:

"Oh? Perhaps while you're at it, you could also explain, my charming prince, why you instructed your spirit to serenade me with endless praises? Describing you as the 'most gallant, most heroic, most breathtakingly perfect being to ever exist?' Hmm?"

Klaus froze.

Even the shadows seemed to step back.

Behind him, the flesh of his shoulder split open with a wet squelch, revealing a grotesque maw lined with jagged fangs that snapped up the rest of the meat like a vending machine from hell. The skewer vanished. So did any hopes of pretending it wasn't human.

Klaus cleared his throat, coughed, then mumbled:

"I-I mean… You once said you liked men who could cook, sooo…"

Cassie stared at him.

For one, long, terrible moment, no one dared breathe.

Then she strode up to him, calm and composed… until she grabbed him by the hair and shoulder and began shaking him like a maraca.

"YES! I said I liked it if you knew how to cook—not that I wanted you to become a damned HANNIBAL LECTER IN HAORI!"

Klaus flailed, muttering something about "culinary experimentation" and "unorthodox meat sources," while Miseria was pointing her finger at Klaus while laughing, Lich covered his bony face in shame, not wanting to admit that he served that idiot.