Gripping the sword tighter, Klaus threw himself straight into the enemy.
After only a few swings, he felt it—wrong.
Heavy. Slow. Not his.
He wanted his katana back.
With a sharp, irritated motion, he flung the blade aside, lightning snapping around his body as it wrapped him in a crackling barrier. Then he went in barehanded.
"What the hell are you doing, you idiot?!" August shouted.
Klaus didn't hear him.
Didn't care.
For the first time in a long while, there was no one to protect.
No one to hold him back.
He could finally let it out.
All of it.
The soldiers closed in. Too many.
Too slow.
Too weak.
Klaus slipped past a blade meant for his throat, swept one man off his feet, and drove his fist into another's chest hard enough to fold him.
A sword flashed toward his arm—
missed—
and clattered at his feet.
No time to think.
He grabbed it and drove it straight into the gut of the next man stupid enough to come close.
Hot blood spilled over his hands.
He could have stepped back.
Could have let August cover him for a few seconds—long enough to flood the stone floor, channel the current, burn them all alive in a single strike.
Efficient.
Clean.
Boring.
Klaus bared his teeth.
Right now, he wanted this.
The smell of blood.
The edge of danger.
That razor-thin moment between life and death where everything felt sharp and real.
Right now—
he wanted to kill.
He had decided long ago that not a single soldier who had guarded his mother would leave this place alive.
And now he would make good on that decision himself.
With his own hands.
August didn't have time to watch him closely at first.
He trusted Klaus.
Always had.
But when Klaus threw his weapon aside and plunged into the fight like a man who had nothing left to lose—
something in August's chest tightened.
The battle cry.
That smile.
Too wide. Too sharp.
The way Klaus cut through soldiers—not fighting, not surviving—
enjoying it.
It wasn't like him.
No—
that wasn't true.
It was him.
Just not the part he ever let anyone see.
And that realization was worse.
Steel clashed at the gates.
Reinforcements.
Horalde had broken through.
Within minutes, it was over.
Most of the royal soldiers dropped their weapons the moment they saw them.
Those who didn't—
died.
Fast.
Efficient.
Pointless.
August lowered his blood-soaked blade and approached.
Klaus stood in the middle of it all, breathing hard.
Blood covered him—hair, face, clothes, hands.
None of it his.
He was smiling.
"Hey," August said, grabbing his shoulder. "You good?"
"I've never felt better," Klaus answered without turning.
"Don't give me that." August tightened his grip. "What's wrong with you?"
Klaus let out a quiet breath.
"So this is what freedom feels like."
Something in the way he said it felt off.
Too light.
Too satisfied.
August didn't understand—and didn't have time to.
He let go and turned to Horalde.
"Captain. What do we do with the prisoners?"
"Hold them for now—"
"We kill them all."
Klaus's voice cut through everything.
Cold.
Flat.
Final.
August turned sharply.
"Klaus, enough. They surrendered. There's no point in—"
"They're the king's most loyal hounds," Klaus said, cutting him off. "They wouldn't be here otherwise."
He took a step forward.
"Every single one dies."
"Klaus—"
"I'll take their heads myself."
"Have you completely lost it?!" August snapped. "There are hundreds of them! What, you're just going to butcher them all?!"
"You'd rather recruit them?" Klaus shot back with a crooked, ugly smile.
"Yes," August said sharply. "They're trained. We need soldiers."
"They'd slit our throats the first chance they got."
"Not all of them."
"Enough of them," Klaus replied. "My father executed dozens of ours."
His eyes darkened.
"I'll execute hundreds of his."
"Gods, just—take a breath," August muttered.
"Horalde," Klaus continued, ignoring him completely, "spread the word immediately."
The large man stilled.
"Let everyone hear it. Tonight, Klaus Defender executed hundreds of the king's soldiers who kept his mother in chains."
He didn't look away.
"Make sure they understand exactly what happens to anyone who touches what's mine."
August stared at him.
"…This is madness."
"Captain," Horalde said carefully, "there is… logic in this."
"Logic?" August let out a sharp laugh. "He wants a massacre. Who the hell follows someone like that?"
"To reduce resistance," Horalde replied calmly, "fear can be… effective. Though we may present it differently."
"Say it however you want," Klaus said. "I don't care."
His gaze remained steady.
"But I'll do what I decided."
"You can't execute that many people alone," August said. "I'll help."
"No."
Immediate.
"I do this myself."
A brief pause.
"I already know how."
Hours later, Klaus still hadn't washed the blood off.
It had dried on his skin, stiff on his clothes.
He didn't seem to notice.
He had sent Pritik for the portal sphere.
Egor had refused to hand it over.
So they came together.
Klaus sat in his mother's chamber.
In her chair.
Watching the sun sink beyond the horizon.
When Egor saw him—
he stopped.
This wasn't the same person.
Not the arrogant prince.
Not the reckless man who threw himself into danger for others.
Not the quiet, almost gentle Klaus he had come to know in private.
This—
was something else.
An empty shell.
Klaus sat perfectly still, spine straight, eyes fixed on nothing.
He didn't blink.
Didn't move.
His hands, dark with dried blood, looked almost black in the fading light.
When the portal opened, Klaus turned slowly.
His gaze landed on Egor.
"Who told you to come?" he asked.
His voice was cold enough to cut.
"I listened to you," Egor said quietly. "I stayed away during the attack. It's over now. I decided I could come."
"You shouldn't see what comes next."
A short pause.
"Leave."
"No."
Egor didn't move.
"I told you—I'm staying. Whatever happens."
A smile flickered across Klaus's lips.
Wrong.
Sharp.
Dangerous.
He stood and walked closer.
Too close.
Leaned in.
His voice dropped to a whisper against Egor's ear.
"Careful," he murmured. "You might regret that."
A breath.
"I warned you."
Another.
"Today you'll see a part of me you won't be able to accept."
A chill ran down Egor's spine.
Still—
he didn't step back.
"I told you," Egor said just as quietly, "I'm not going anywhere."
A breath.
"I'm tired of repeating it. Nothing you do will change that."
Silence.
"Fine," Klaus said.
He straightened.
"Let's send my mother away."
The portal opened again.
Vitos carried the unconscious woman through.
Gone.
The moment it closed—
Klaus moved.
Fast.
Decisive.
He tossed the sphere to Pritik and walked out.
Egor followed.
The estate grounds were almost empty.
Only a few rebel soldiers remained.
At the gate—August and Horalde.
August's gaze flicked to Egor.
"You sure you want him seeing this?" he asked quietly.
"I didn't bring him," Klaus replied. "He came himself."
A brief pause.
"If he wants to watch, let him."
"Communication mages are ready," August said. "Everything's set. Are you absolutely sure—"
"Are you questioning me again?"
"…No."
As Klaus stepped forward, August grabbed Egor's shoulder.
"Listen," he said quietly, leaning in, "it's good for me that you're here."
A short pause.
"But I don't want him breaking because of you."
His grip tightened.
"If you realize you can't handle this—turn around. Leave. Go back to your world and forget this place ever existed."
Egor's eyes hardened.
"And why would I leave?"
A sharp breath.
"You still think you can take him from me?"
A step closer.
"Klaus is mine."
Quiet.
Cold.
"I'm not going anywhere."
August studied him for a moment.
Then let go.
"I warned you," he said. "Now watch what it means to lead in our world."
Horalde stepped past them.
"You should've stayed underground, boy," he muttered. "Come on."
No one explained.
Rows of people knelt along the outer wall.
Young.
Old.
Even children.
Slave robes marked their status.
They didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
Didn't dare.
Fifty meters away—
hundreds of soldiers knelt as well.
Armor stripped.
Helmets gone.
Waiting.
For judgment.
Klaus stood before them.
Perfectly straight.
He raised the amplification stone.
"Communication mages—prepare."
Silver threads stretched outward.
Spread.
Connected.
Then—
his voice rang across the land.
Cold.
Clear.
Unforgiving.
"I am the true heir to the throne. The eldest son of the King of Isorobia—Klaus Defender."
He let the words settle.
"Today, I reveal a secret hidden for over twenty years."
Another breath.
"The queen—my mother, Minami Astrik—is alive."
Silence.
"For decades, she was imprisoned here."
He continued without hesitation.
"Before me kneel the king's loyal soldiers."
A glance.
"They chose surrender only when survival was no longer possible."
A shift.
"Behind them sit slaves. Innocent people. Branded. Broken. Forced into obedience."
His voice sharpened.
"All who want freedom—stand."
Nothing.
No movement.
No breath.
Freedom?
It didn't make sense.
Time stretched.
Then—
slowly—
a few old men stood.
Hesitant.
Uncertain.
The gates opened.
They walked.
Nothing happened.
Others followed.
Then more.
Until—
only one old woman remained.
Her eyes fixed on Egor.
Unblinking.
"Those who leave are free," Klaus continued. "You choose your own path."
A breath.
"Stay. Leave. Join me."
Another.
"You will be paid. Educated. You will live as citizens of the nation I will build."
His voice hardened.
"And every slave I free will be treated the same."
A short pause.
"No matter what it takes."
Silence.
Only the old woman remained.
"As for the warriors before me—"
Klaus's gaze dropped to them.
"I will show them mercy as well."
A flicker of something dark crossed his face.
"In honor of their skill—"
he paused just a fraction—
"I will personally carry out their punishment."
A ripple of fear spread.
"For cowardice."
"For betrayal."
"For surrendering."
His voice lowered.
"They are sentenced to death."
Panic broke.
Some begged.
Some tried to run.
Some just froze.
Klaus didn't move.
Didn't react.
"I will execute every soldier who stands against me," he said.
A breath.
"You chose to keep that woman in chains."
Another.
"I repay my mother's suffering with your lives."
And then—
"And you, Father—"
his voice turned to ice—
"you're next."
Cold sweat ran down Egor's spine.
Lightning gathered in Klaus's bloodstained hands.
Bright.
Violent.
Alive.
"Stand back," Klaus ordered.
His soldiers obeyed.
And then—
it began.
Lightning tore through the air.
Sharp.
Precise.
Merciless.
Heads fell.
Bodies collapsed.
Blood erupted, soaking the ground.
It didn't stop.
Didn't slow.
Didn't hesitate.
At the center of it—
stood Klaus.
Unmoving.
Untouched.
Executing them.
One after another.
Like it meant nothing.
The man Egor loved.
The man he thought he knew.
The man he no longer recognized.
A heavy hand gripped his shoulder.
Turned him away.
Horalde.
Egor didn't resist.
Couldn't.
August said something nearby—
he didn't hear it.
Klaus's voice rang out again.
Calm.
Steady.
As if nothing had happened.
"Nearly two hundred executions."
A breath.
"Hundreds of witnesses."
Another.
"I have shown power equal to the king."
"I will remain here for several weeks."
"All who wish to join me may come freely."
"No one who comes willingly will be harmed."
"This territory is now neutral ground."
"And I am ready to negotiate."
The silver threads snapped.
The mages collapsed.
Exhausted.
Klaus turned his back on the massacre.
And walked away.
Horalde still held Egor when Klaus passed.
Klaus looked at him.
At the rigid shoulders.
At the tension.
Egor didn't turn.
He flinched.
Just slightly.
Klaus saw.
Said nothing.
And kept walking.
August let out a quiet, humorless chuckle.
"When he snaps out of it," he said, "charge the portal."
A pause.
"And send him home."