The entire archipelago had drowned, swallowed by the cold ocean. The cataclysmic event triggered massive tsunamis but thankfully, an ancient sorcerer had managed to halt the overwhelming surge just in time, saving hundreds of thousands of lives once again.
In the western edge of Argentina, nothing remained but ruins and despair stretched across the vast land. The sky bled crimson, and the earth was already dead, consumed by the calamities born from the demonic dragon that was sealed within a mirror nkw.
Klaus staggered forward, clutching his abdomen as he used Faceless to close the wound. Loki, utterly exhausted, had already retreated into his spirit sea. As for Lich, he had done the same. After stopping the tsunami, he had spent the last drop of his essence and vanished into the depths of Klaus's soul.
Klaus exhaled shakily, his entire body drenched in sweat and blood as he gazed up at the oppressive, ominous sky. He was tired. Tired of everything, really.
When was the last time he truly rested?
He couldn't even remember. Maybe it was the night he took Tatiana and the kids to that club. That was supposed to be a relaxing evening, wasn't it?
But it hadn't felt like that. Not really. Even then, all he had done was work, study, plan and train. He only managed to spend a few hours every day with his family before diving back into the endless preparation. After all, war was always looming over his head.
Memory: [Drop of Ichor]
Memory Rank: Unknown
Memory Tier: Unknown
Memory Type: Unknown
Klaus willed Drop of Ichor to manifest.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, golden sparks flickered to life, appearing one by one in the still air before him. They shot toward a single point, drawn together like metal to a lodestone. A radiant dot formed, a small, brilliant ember of divinity.
But it didn't stop.
More sparks followed. Thousands upon thousands, streaming into it like rivers of molten light. The air thrummed with energy, thick with something ancient, something alive. The glow grew, pulsing in rhythm with an unseen heartbeat. The area around him brightened as the golden sphere of radiance expanded, filling the land with divine brilliance.
It was stunning.
The light spread across the ruins, painting them in ethereal gold, turning the rough battlefield into something otherworldly. It was the kind of beauty that defied description, one that words simply couldn't capture. It was divinity itself.
And at its center…
A single, perfect drop of liquid gold floated in the air.
But then, the ichor began to change. Its radiant golden hue dimmed, as if merging with something ancient and vile. A darkness began to seep in, swirling together with the gold. The two colors spun, chaotic yet perfectly balanced. Half of the ichor was gold, the other black. It was a paradox, opposing forces, fused in harmony.
An inexplicable feeling rose within Klaus. He didn't know what this strange sense of familiarity was. As if that single, floating drop of ichor was the most beautiful and natural thing in the world. As if dark and gold were never meant to be separate, as if they had once belonged to a singular, primordial origin.
Completion Rate: [100%]
[Do you wish to consume the Drop of Ichor?]
The Spell's voice echoed in his mind. It was filled with hatred… and hesitation. A contradiction, just like the ichor itself. Klaus couldn't explain it. Why would the Spell sound reluctant, even wary of him consuming it? Why present this ichor as a legacy relic if it feared the outcome?
Unless… it had no choice. Unless the Spell itself was bound by rules it could not break.
After all, nothing in this world was without flaws.
Klaus groaned, unsure if this was the right moment to consume the Ichor but what did it matter? He was dying. Maybe this was his only gamble. If death was certain either way, then what exactly did he have to lose?
He shook his head slowly, closed his eyes for a moment, and spoke in a weary, resigned tone.
"I wish to consume it..."
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the Spell's voice echoed in his mind once again. this time laced with loathing, dripping with pure venom.
[You will regret it...]
A soft chuckle escaped Klaus's cracked lips as he opened one eye, a glint of twisted delight shining through the pain.
"You don't seem to realize… I don't give a fuck."
But then his smile froze.
Klaus's eyes widened. A tremor ran down his spine as the Ichor surged into his body like a living tide.
And then-
"Aghhh!"
A guttural cry tore from his throat as agony exploded in every nerve. It felt like thousands of needles were piercing his flesh, digging into muscle, drawing blood with every breath.
Within seconds, he was drenched in crimson, body convulsing as he let out tortured, bestial screams that echoed into the poisoned night.
The Ichor wasn't healing him, it was destroying him. His muscles liquefied, turned into pulp beneath his skin. And that was only the beginning.
This pain was worse than any torture. Worse than anything he'd ever endured. It was death by a thousand cuts, except he was alive for all of it.
He screamed until his voice cracked. His body thrashed and arched against the ground.
Then, with a supreme act of will, Klaus clenched his jaw shut. No more screaming. No more distractions. He couldn't afford to pass out, not now.
If he lost consciousness, he'd die.
After two long, excruciating hours, his muscles had been broken down to the last fiber. Then, the ichor turned inwardpiercing his bones.
Klaus trembled from the agony, a low grunt slipping past his clenched teeth.
He didn't scream. Screaming would only feed the pain, make it worse and sharper. So he forced his mouth shut, even as his eyes bulged from his bloodless, contorted face.
Then it happened. His body seized violently for a single moment-
And went limp the next.
His skeleton was turned to dust.
The pain was beyond comprehension. His nerves, though shredded, still burned with phantom agony. Tears filled his wide, bloodshot eyes as he realized...
He was no longer a man. Just a mound of flesh. A quivering, paralyzed husk.
And yet, somehow, still alive.
With his skeleton nothing more than a bone meal, the ichor burrowed deep into his organs. It didn't wait to stick to them like before but punched right through them.
Klaus's organs were shredded and he was spewing blood mixed with flesh again and again.
Yet despite the constant flow of blood, the searing pain, and the cold sweat clinging to his skin, his lips curled into a sinister grin.
But that grin didn't last.
A scream tore itself from his throat. a wail of agony that echoed through the shattered landscape. He had thought it was over.
He was wrong. It didn't go as planned.
"AHHH!"
The ichor, having finished with his organs, surged toward his brain.
Then it began raining havoc, not just in his flesh, but in the very depths of his soul. His spirit. His mind.
And once that was gone… his death would be final.
It felt like a thousand soul striking blades were shredding his spirit sea, each cut carving through the foundation of who he was. The pain reached the very bottom of his spirit cores. It was cruelty beyond cruelty, far worse than the torment that came before. And unlike the earlier stages where his mind, however battered, had remained intact. Now the pain ate away at his very consciousness.
His soul was collapsing, thread by thread, spent and fraying at the seams.
He could feel it.
His soul teetered on the brink of shattering, and all he could do was wait for his demise.
Then his destroyed body twitched and began to reassemble. His flesh mutated uncontrollably, writhing like a living mass of contradictions.
Faceless was altering his appearance, forcing him to evolve and devolve in an endless cycle. But… was it really Faceless?
Klaus didn't knew nor did he cared as beastial roar tore from what remained of his throat as his exoskeleton twisted and hardened into unnatural shapes. His arms split open, revealing rows of jagged, snapping fangs. His eyes burst from their sockets, only to be swallowed by helmet-like bone plating that formed over his face . His legs twisted into grotesque configurations, claws sprouting from where his nails once were.
He didn't even felt like a human. Just an everchanging creature, locked in a torment of endless mutation. Evolution and devolution cycling violently within him.
And the pain...
Why was it so unbearable?
It was the worst pain he had ever felt, so overwhelming it defied reason. So immense, so intimate, it blurred the lines between mind and body. He couldn't even scream anymore. He didn't have a voice. Did he even have a mouth?
His thoughts fragmented. His consciousness itself was mutating.
Sometimes he recoiled from radiation, frail and fractured. Other times, it welcomed him like an old friend, filling him with power. At moments, heat burned him like he was in hell. Then, without warning, it soothed him. Nurtured him like flame does a phoenix.
He didn't know what he was. Only that he was changing. Over and over again.
His mind was constantly changing. He didn't understand what was happening. At some point, he stopped caring altogether. He just listened, no... obeyed his instincts like a mindless beast.
But it wasn't just his appearance that was transforming. It was his very soul.
Stars erupted into supernovas. Meteors and asteroids crumbled into dust. Planets shattered. Galaxies and nebulae vanished into the void. Even atoms collapsed until nothing remained. Nothing but silence. Nothing but... nothing.
There was no darkness in his soul, nor was there any light. Only null, a hollow void, where even space and time had collapsed and ceased to exist.
And from that emptiness, a dark purple dust emerged, drifting like a slow, inevitable tide. It enveloped the nothingness, swallowing it whole. His spirit sea dissolved, erased entirely along with the spirits he once carried.
And within that void, a fragment of divinity remained… only to be seized and corrupted as well. The darkness sank its claws into the sacred spark, defiling it, twisting it and transforming it into something else.
It was chaos. That single word was enough to describe it. uncontrollable, unpredictable chaos.
And then, slowly, the pain began to subside.
A perverse sense of euphoria washed over Klaus after the hours of unbearable agony he had endured.
But his mind... no matter how powerful, no matter how cold-blooded, it could not overcome pain of such overwhelming magnitude.
Why did he do it? Why did he torment himself even further? It was too cruel. It was too much.
What was he now? Just a deformed mass of flesh? He didn't know. All he knew was that pleasure and pain alike had overwhelmed his mind, and his consciousness was fading.
His body released thick steam that shrouded the ruined landscape like a fog of breathless silence.
The grotesque amalgamation of twisted flesh slowly melted away, leaving behind nothing but a naked human form, fragile and motionless.
And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Klaus slept peacefully in a land ruined by radiation and beneath a sky that bled.
[You have acquired a new Attribute.]
***
Okay, I know I said I'd explain what happened in the previous chapter, but… I kinda forgot. Sorry! Don't worry, though. it will be explained soon enough.
Now that I think about it, this chapter probably needs some explaining too, right? You're free to ask questions, but I might not be able to answer all of them... you know? spoilers and all that.
Anyway! Klaus finally consumed the ichor.
What kind of attribute did he gain after feeding it his essence for years? It must be something powerful, right? Well… we'll see.
Also, yes. my boy went through the worst pain imaginable, lol. I spent hours writing this chapter just to torture him as much as possible. Now that it's done, I feel… satisfied.
That's it for now. enjoy the chapter!
***