It was already dark when Klaus stepped out of the car into the oldest, filthiest part of the city.
He had never seen so many crumbling five-story buildings packed so tightly together. Peeling walls. Broken balconies. Black windows staring like empty sockets.
Somewhere beneath one of them—
Egor was hiding.
Waiting.
Afraid.
A loud group sat in the courtyard, drinking, shouting over each other. Bottles clinked. Laughter cut through the night.
Klaus ignored them.
Not possessed.
He pulled out his phone and called.
"Where are you? You can come out. I'm here."
A shaky breath answered.
"You're sure there's no one else?" Egor asked.
"No one you need to worry about."
Minutes passed.
Then—
A figure stepped out from behind the building.
Paused.
Looked around.
Then saw Klaus—and rushed toward him, stumbling.
"Thank God you're here. I thought I was dead. There were so many of them—"
"It's over," Klaus cut him off. "We're leaving."
He pulled Egor in, arm around his shoulders, already turning toward the exit.
"Wait."
Egor stopped.
"I know where they are. I know where the one controlling them is."
His voice shook.
"If we don't stop him now—what happens next? He controls groups, Klaus. Whole groups—"
"We don't walk into a trap blind," Klaus said sharply. "Tell me where. I'll handle it."
"No. I'm coming."
"You'll slow me down."
"I don't care."
Klaus closed his eyes for a second, pressing fingers to the bridge of his nose.
The drug hadn't fully left his system.
Heat still crawled under his skin.
His thoughts were clear—
his body wasn't.
He wanted cold.
Silence.
Sleep.
But Egor was right.
They couldn't waste this.
"…Fine. Let's go."
The building loomed ahead.
Half-abandoned.
Rotting.
Of six windows, only one glowed weak yellow.
"It's here," Egor said.
Then hesitated.
Klaus's shirt clung to him, soaked through. His breathing was wrong.
Too fast.
Too shallow.
"Are you okay?"
Egor reached toward him—
Klaus caught his wrist.
Hard.
"Don't."
That feeling—
the one from earlier—
spiked.
Wrong.
Everything was wrong.
Still holding Egor's wrist, Klaus turned his hand over.
Looked.
Something—
missing.
"…Egor," he said quietly.
"Where's your mark?"
Egor ripped his hand free.
And smiled.
Not like himself.
Not even close.
Cold.
Crooked.
Empty.
"The performance is over."
Klaus didn't need the rest.
Egor hadn't escaped.
He'd been sent.
Bait.
Klaus moved instantly—
Grabbed him by the throat—
Slammed him down.
Searched—
Found it.
The orb.
Pressed it into Egor's palm.
Forced it there.
No time to wait.
Klaus rose.
Drew the blunt short sword.
Too many.
Already too many.
They closed in.
From every side.
How did I miss this—
The drug.
Damn it.
They didn't hesitate.
Didn't feel.
Didn't stop.
Fighting them all—
suicide.
The leader was inside.
Only target that mattered.
Klaus moved.
Fast.
Brutal.
He shoved through bodies, struck, broke the line—
and ran.
Inside.
The door slammed.
He dragged debris in front of it.
Pointless.
Glass shattered behind him.
They were coming.
He ran toward the light—
Opened a door—
Pain.
A blade drove into his side.
Deep.
Too deep.
Klaus choked—
air gone—
hand snapping to the knife buried in him.
His sword hit the floor.
Five men.
Waiting.
Armed.
Behind them—
a tall, thin figure.
Gray hair.
Bald patch catching the light.
Smiling.
"Your Highness," he said, bowing mockingly. "What an honor."
Hands grabbed Klaus.
He fought—
but someone shoved the knife deeper.
White-hot pain detonated through him.
His vision shattered.
His body failed.
They dragged him.
Chains waited.
Prepared.
Expected.
They shackled him in place.
"I hope you appreciate my hospitality," the man said lightly.
Klaus lifted his head.
Saw the tattoo.
Threads.
Rings.
Control.
"Who are you?" he forced out.
"A loyal servant," the man said. "Adamas. Supreme Air Mage."
"And your master?"
"You don't need to know."
A smile.
"Tonight—you die."
"Bastard," Klaus rasped. "You won't walk away."
Adamas laughed.
"You still think you matter."
Klaus's eyes darkened.
"I will find you," he said quietly. "Even after death."
Something flickered in Adamas's expression.
Gone instantly.
He stepped forward.
Pressed down on the knife.
Klaus's body locked.
He didn't scream.
Wouldn't.
The blade tore free.
Blood poured.
Hot.
Thick.
Spreading.
"Beautiful," Adamas whispered.
He raised the knife toward Klaus's face—
A harsh caw split the air.
A raven slammed into him.
Claws tearing.
Adamas staggered back, swearing.
Klaus moved.
The wire.
His fingers closed around it—
Pulled—
Once.
Twice—
Until it snapped free.
Sparks exploded.
Darkness dropped.
Current tore through him.
Violent.
Uncontrolled.
His body convulsed—
and something answered.
Lightning.
It burst outward.
Wild.
Unstable.
Adamas was thrown across the room.
Chains ripped free.
Klaus tore them off.
Metal screamed.
Lightning coiled around him.
Alive.
Hungry.
He stepped forward.
Slow.
Unsteady—
but standing.
"What was that?" he asked, voice low. "About circumstances?"
A smile cut across his face.
Wrong.
Sharp.
Predatory.
"Now you talk."
Egor
Egor's eyes snapped open.
His head felt wrong.
Heavy.
Distant.
Fragments—
The man.
The stone.
The command.
Obedience.
Now—
night.
People moved around the building.
Silent.
Focused.
Pouring something.
Setting something up.
If he was free—
then Klaus was inside.
Because of him.
Again.
Egor swallowed.
Hard.
Then moved.
Inside.
The room—
Adamas.
Broken.
And Klaus—
standing over him.
Lightning in his hand.
Face pale.
Too pale.
Blood soaking his side.
"You won't get anything from me," Adamas spat.
"I know how to make you talk," Klaus said.
Egor froze.
That voice—
wasn't human.
"Cla—"
Hands grabbed him.
A blade pressed to his throat.
"Let him go," Klaus said.
Adamas laughed.
"There's only one way."
Klaus didn't hesitate.
Lightning struck.
Adamas died instantly.
Every body dropped.
Silence.
Klaus fell to his knees.
Egor broke free—
ran to him—
"I'm sorry—I'm sorry—I'm sorry—"
Klaus tried to speak.
Failed.
"The sword," he whispered.
Egor grabbed it—
turned—
froze.
Too much blood.
"Klaus—"
Klaus was shaking.
Cold.
Barely conscious.
Then he collapsed.
Aftermath
Egor panicked.
Dialed.
Not an ambulance.
Pauoka.
"I killed him—" he choked.
She didn't panic.
Asked where.
Promised help.
Egor pressed cloth into the wound.
Hands slipping.
Covered in blood.
People began waking.
He lied.
Fast.
Extras.
Film set.
They believed him.
Left.
One by one.
Then—
others came.
Professionals.
Lights.
Equipment.
Klaus was lifted onto a stretcher.
Egor followed.
Barely aware of anything.
In the van—
voices.
Questions.
"Blood type?"
"I don't know."
"Damn."
Egor stared at the oxygen mask.
Fog.
Clear.
Fog.
Clear.
That rhythm—
was the only thing holding him together.
Because it meant—
Klaus was still alive.