Klaus remained suspended in the star-scattered silence, his thoughts cascading through possibilities like water finding its course down a mountainside. The tremor in his hand had begun to subside, but the raw power he'd unleashed still hummed through his reconstructed core like distant thunder.
He could attempt to rebuild his broken statistics now, while the memory of channeling such tremendous force remained fresh in his consciousness. Yet something in the way his energy felt—not depleted exactly, but fundamentally altered—suggested that patience might serve him better than haste.
As if sensing his internal debate, a familiar weight pressed against his back. Dudu had grown considerably during Klaus's recent transformations, though the Night Dragon retained the endearing quality that made Klaus's lips quirk upward despite himself. The creature's now substantial head pushed insistently against Klaus's shoulder, nudging him toward the distant glow of the Eastern Tower.
