Klaus, Sunny, and Kai were discussing their plans. They needed a woman to enter the Temple of the Chalice. And none of them were women. But Sunny had the Saint. If Miseria were here, Klaus would have assigned the task to her.
But his loyal, sassy spirit was away on a different mission. Klaus looked around and sighed.
"So we'll be playing the Saint's slaves to get in?"
Sunny nodded grimly. If everything went according to plan, it would be great. But with his Fated attribute, that seemed unlikely.
"Yes. We'll pose as her attendants and follow her inside. Then we find Effie and escape as quickly as possible."
Klaus stared at him blankly, unsure whether to laugh or pity them. Were they seriously suggesting this?
"Listen here, idiot. What kind of plan is that? You call yourself cunning, treacherous, and smart? What are you, brain-damaged?"
Sunny gritted his teeth, irritation flaring. "Then what do you suggest!?!"
Klaus gave him one last pitying glance and shook his head.
"Damn my life for being stuck with these unschooled brats. How do you even survive? Gods above. Listen up. First, we observe. Study how they operate—their routines, their patrols. Then we analyze the temple's structure to locate Effie and identify viable escape routes. Finally, your idea of using the Saint isn't bad, but deeply flawed. Your stone saint can't talk. What will you do if they question her? Speak on her behalf? What makes you so sure they won't cut out your tongue for that? You don't know their customs or laws. So what is this nonsense you're calling a plan? Please, enlighten me."
Sunny and Kai stared at him, dumbfounded. It all made sense. Too much sense. Who even was this guy? He sounded like a covert operative who'd led a dozen infiltration missions.
Kai coughed, embarrassed. "Well... when you put it like that, there are a lot of risks."
Sunny scoffed, more out of spite. "So what? Bah! We've survived worse without a plan. We'll manage."
Klaus leaned back in his chair, muttering curses. "Fucking headache... So you survived by sheer luck? Really? While others draft contingency plans, you idiots just stumble into danger and walk out alive? That makes no sense. Unless... Cas. Must be her visions that saved you. Heh. So I really am the unlucky one. Dammit, now I'm jealous."
Sunny opened his mouth, then shut it again. Wait... damn it. Why was Klaus right? He used to be meticulous. Paranoid, even. Now? Overconfidence? That was... Problem.
"So what now?" he asked at last.
Klaus grinned and stood. Then, his form began to shift. He shrank slightly, muscles fading, replaced by soft curves. His pitch-black hair grew longer, his figure more delicate. A gentle swell at his chest completed the illusion.
Kai and Sunny watched in stunned silence.
Beautiful. Ethereal. Sunny froze. No! That's Klaus! That's still a guy! This is just transformation!
Kai, on the other hand, was more curious than shocked. "Klaus, is that your ability?"
Klaus smiled with wicked charm, placing a hand on his hip. "Nope. It's memory." He tapped the necklace hanging from his throat. "This little thing lets me change my gender."
Kai nodded slowly, understanding dawning. Sunny was still trying to compose himself.
"Yeah... that works too, I guess..."
Klaus crossed his legs elegantly and leaned his cheek into his palm, flashing a wink. "Quite the lady, aren't I?"
Sunny grimaced. "You're disgusting—"
Before he could finish, Klaus slapped him with elegance and pointed a manicured finger.
"That's not how you speak to a lady, darling."
Sunny stared, dumbfounded, the sting on his cheek pulsing. Wait... right now he's a woman, so I hit a woman... but it's Klaus... so I didn't... but he slapped me for being rude... This is messed up.
Kai turned away, barely holding in his laughter.
Klaus dropped the act, flopping down on the floor again. Still in a woman's body, he now sat like a slouching thug, hands cradling his head.
"Anyway, we depart tonight. Since the two of you are only good at swinging swords, I'll handle the subtle parts. One mistake, and Effie could die. If they learn she matters to us, they might use her as leverage. Understand?"
He tied his hair into a ponytail with practiced ease.
"They must believe our only goal is the Glass Knife. Any questions?"
They shook their heads.
Klaus grinned, all charm turned to mischief.
"Excellent, my little soldiers. Let Operation: Rescue the Glutton begin."
____
Klaus and Kai crouched on the edge of their vantage point, eyes trained on the Temple of the Chalice below. their gazes fixed on the distant silhouette of the Temple of the Chalice. The island itself looked like something a poet would describe before jumping into the sea—lonely, cruel, and made entirely out of sharp things. Jagged pillars of rock rose like the spines of some fossilized leviathan, encircling the ancient temple like a noose. The building was beautiful, in a grim and religious sort of way, its weathered stone bathed in the scarlet light of the setting sun. A graveyard of swords surrounded it—hundreds of blades thrust into the earth like memorials to long-forgotten warriors.
Klaus squinted and clicked his tongue. "You know, I could just vaporize the place. Drop Shiva right on its pretty little head."
Kai gave him a look.
Klaus rolled his eyes. "yes, yes. unfortunately, that would turn Effie into barbecue." He sighed. "Tsk. Always the 'don't incinerate the hostage' clause."
It was the truth, though—he had to hold back. Again. This was becoming a bad habit. When was the last time he actually let loose? Ah, yes. That mess with Cormac.
The Temple was ancient—sacred to someone long dead, and now home to the Glass Knife, gifted once to a War Maiden by the immortal Shadow himself. A charming little relic, if you liked divine artifacts that could kill immortals.
For three days, the two of them observed from afar. Klaus would have complained, but watching Kai try to stay quiet for that long was entertaining in itself. Through long hours of watching, sketching, and idle mockery, they learned a few useful things.
At the heart of the Temple lay a grand hall, its ceiling lost in shadow, and in the center—perched like some divine altar—stood a colossal stone chalice. It overflowed with brilliant white flame, eerily identical to the Sun God's Flames found in the Sky Below.
Various wings of the Temple housed different functions. the north wing reeked of blood and discipline—training grounds for young maidens. Klaus watched as War Maidens barked orders and beat the fear out of their students, forging them into killers. It was brutal, ugly… and effective.
"Well," Klaus murmured dryly, "I've seen worse. Hell, I've done worse. But at least I didn't force the brats. Mine signed up for the trauma buffet."
In the Ascendancy, Klaus's own training regimens were the stuff of nightmares — battles to the death followed by healing through Hemera's light, only to be cast into the pit again. And again. And again.
But here? They weren't training soldiers. They were breaking children.
Further reconnaissance revealed an armory — underwhelming, in his opinion. Enchanted steel and traditional craftsmanship, yes, but nothing compared to the Memories of the Awakened or the custom-forged relics Klaus bestowed upon his lowest-ranked mundane soldiers. The temple's weapons felt... quaint. Outdated. Inefficient.
One of the underground chambers was the worst. He saw them—small, terrified kids—stuffed into coffins and buried alive. Others were locked in with venomous insects and snakes, left to scream until bitten… then healed, only to go through it again. Their bones were shattered, their skin burned, their nerves tested and torched. All in the name of conquering fear.
He recognized the logic. Pain as a teacher. Fear as a hurdle. The method wasn't alien. But children? Innocents?
No.
That crossed a line even he would never tread.
In Ascendancy, his elite soldiers chose their own suffering. Gravity-crushing chambers, rooms of total darkness, poison gauntlets, sparring with Abominations in containment fields… all voluntary. Mostly. A little pride-poking here, a sprinkle of peer pressure there—Klaus never forced anyone. He just watched them dive in headfirst for glory and bragging rights.
Yeah... Those idiots even have competition about who would last longer...
But this? This was not ambition. This was indoctrination by cruelty. Diabolical. Degenerate.
Klaus narrowed his eyes.
"I joke a lot," he muttered, "but this is just plain fucked."
Even he had limits. He could rationalize war, even cruelty. But what he saw here wasn't training—it was sadism dressed up as tradition.
"Monsters," he muttered, watching a War Maiden drag a sobbing girl across the stone floor. "And not even the interesting kind."
Kai remained silent beside him, fists clenched.
"Relax," Klaus said softly, tone still light but sharp beneath the surface. "We'll get Effie out. And maybe set this whole wretched place on fire when we're done. Accidentally, of course."
He leaned back, hands behind his head, legs stretched out as if he were sunbathing instead of planning an infiltration.
"Honestly," he sighed, "I should start charging for moral superiority. It's exhausting being the good guy."
Kai arched a brow. "You're not the good guy."
Klaus froze. "oh? Right... I forgot that..."
Klaus has already calculated entry vectors, guard rotations, and internal weak points like he was back in waking world, organizing a black-ops rescue behind enemy lines.
Because that's exactly what this was.
Except his team was made of a paranoid lunatic, a unreasonably gorgeous archer, and a gluttonous damsel with a habit of eating everything in sight.
Ahh... I missed my diabolical little shits.