The shimmering blue tear in space slowly faded behind him.
The city still buzzed in the distance—carts of glowing fruits rolling down levitating streets, children darting through holo-lanterns, and high towers humming with clean kinetic power drawn from the veins of the earth below. Mira stood frozen, eyes wide, breath caught in her throat. Beside her, Grayson remained silent, the furrows of his weathered brow deepening as he tried to grasp what he had just witnessed.
The portal that Kurozane had sliced into existence was gone.
And so were he and Klaus.
---
The scent of brine and crashing waves filled Klaus's senses before his eyes opened.
A gentle breeze rolled through the open-paneled room, the curtains fluttering like ghosts over polished wooden floors. Sunlight streamed in through a vast circular window, its view capturing a boundless, glistening sea—cerulean waves smashing against jagged cliffside rocks. The place was modest: a weathered wooden home nestled on the edge of the coast, framed by wind-worn trees and stone paths leading down to the shoreline. The structure creaked lightly, as if breathing with the sea itself.
Klaus blinked, stirring.
"Morning, Princess," came a voice far too chipper for the situation.
Klaus turned slowly to find Kuro sitting at a tiny breakfast table, munching on dried fish and rice, chopsticks clacking. His white hair was tied lazily behind him, and a ridiculous apron was somehow tied over his usual robes. "Took you long enough. Was starting to think I overcooked your brain."
Klaus slowly sat up, shirtless still, covered in healing scars and dried blood. His eyes scanned the place—he didn't know where he was, and worse, he didn't know why he hadn't sensed any danger.
Until now.
Klaus flared his will, elemental wind trembling around him. In one motion, he surged forward, aiming to strike—but Kuro didn't even move.
He just looked up. Eyes cold. Voice sharp. Humor, gone.
"Sit. Down."
The wind collapsed instantly.
Klaus froze. The pressure behind those two words didn't feel like power—it was something more primal. Something colder.
Kuro took another bite of fish. "Now. Tell me. What the hell is eating you so hard you'd rather break your own bones flailing than actually talk to someone?"
Klaus hesitated—but something about the quiet sea, the warm light, the way Kuro didn't pressure him beyond that… it cracked something.
And so, for the first time in what felt like eternity, Klaus told someone.
Klaus sat at the edge of the wooden steps, the salty sea breeze tugging gently at his long blond hair. His eyes weren't focused on anything in particular—just the horizon, as if searching for something lost.
"One moment she was fine…" His voice was barely above a whisper. "Laughing. Breathing. Just… Sofie."
He swallowed hard, gaze lowering. "Then… the next second, she changed.She evolved into an Archeon.She dint remember me at the moment.And then—she vanished."
Kuro, leaning lazily against the doorframe behind him, said nothing for once.
"I searched for her for days. I didn't sleep. I didn't eat. I didn't care. Every step felt like I was dying slower. Eventually… I ended up in the Drazien Empire."
He finally looked up, eyes glassy but hard. "And then… I saw her."
The wind seemed to still.
"She was standing there, chained. Her back to me. And I screamed her name—Sofie!" Klaus's breath hitched. "She looked at me with fear in her eyes...."
He paused. Something in him cracked.
"But just… then that bastard Monarch stood in front of her. Varion." His voice turned venomous. "Before I could blink—he was there. And the next moment…"
His fists clenched tightly.
"…I woke up in a cellar.Cold. Alone."
He stared into the ground now, jaw tightening.
"I don't remember how long I was there. Just… the scent of her. It lingered in the air. I followed it like an animal." His voice cracked. "And then I found him again.Fought him. Fought his so called Archeons,then his entire Pyreborn Execrants unit. I fought with everything I had. Wind, rage, instinct—none of it mattered."I swore revenge,that once I'd get to the peak I'll make them fall."
Klaus's shoulders trembled. He didn't cry, but it was written in the lines of his face.
Silence.
"…Fuck…" he muttered to himself. "What good is this power if I keep falling? What the hell's the point of fighting if I can't even stand when it matters?"
His voice was so low it was almost lost in the sound of the waves.
Kuro stared blankly.
Then blinked.
Then said, "...Damn. That's darker than my tax records."
"Kid, I asked for a backstory, not a tragic opera."
Klaus didn't move.
Kuro plopped down beside him, arms resting lazily on his knees. "You know, when people say 'I've had a rough week,' they usually mean too much paperwork or losing a bet. You, on the other hand? 'Yeah, I watched someone I love vanish, got smacked into a coma by a walking furnace, woke up in a dungeon, and somehow crawled back for round two like a rabid wolf.' That's dedication. Or insanity. Honestly, it's kind of sexy."
Klaus's silence was unbroken, but his eyes flicked sideways for a second.
Kuro leaned closer, cocking a brow. "Look, I'm not good at comfort. I prefer swords to therapy. But you're not weak, Klaus."
"…I keep falling," Klaus whispered.
"Everyone falls," Kuro replied with uncharacteristic clarity. "You just fell in the direction of something that matters."
Kuro stood and stretched, the wind tossing his white hair as he looked out toward the sea.
"She must mean a hell of a lot to you," he added, his tone somewhere between teasing and sincere. "So much that you're willing to burn down Monarchs for her. That's... kinda poetic."
Klaus stared ahead, silent, his jaw clenched.
Kuro gave a long sigh… then his smirk crept back. "Also, heads up. There was an official announcement a couple days ago."
Klaus barely looked at him. "What kind of announcement?"
"You'll love this." Kuro leaned forward, whispering dramatically. "The child of Monarch Varion Ignar and Lady Sera Ignar—their long-lost daughter... she's alive."
Klaus turned, heart skipping.
Kuro grinned like a fox. "And her name, apparently... is Sofie."
Klaus's entire body froze.
His breath hitched.
Eyes widened.
The air around him started to thin, wind pulling unnaturally around his form—but this time, it wasn't rage.
It was realization..
Silence.
It stretched between them like a forgotten memory—quiet, still, heavy.
Klaus didn't move. His golden hair caught the faint breeze wafting in through the opened side of the seaside cottage. His fists weren't clenched. No wind surged. No fury boiled.
Only stillness.
"…Sofie," he whispered.
He sank onto the wooden step just outside the cottage door, the warmth of the late sun draping across his shoulders like a forgotten cloak. A gull cried distantly. The sea shimmered in golden silence, tides rolling gently into shore.
His voice was small.
"She never… talked about it. She just said she didn't remember anything. Not even her parents…"
His eyes softened, gaze distant. "She used to ask if I thought the stars remembered her. That if she looked long enough, maybe they'd blink back."
There was no anger. No thunder.
Just a hollow ache in the spaces between breaths.
Then—
"Gods, you're dramatic," Kuro yawned, stretching as if Klaus had interrupted a nap. "Next thing you'll be writing poetry and crying into the sea. You know, the 'oh woe is me' sort."
Klaus gave a short laugh through his nose. It wasn't much. But it was something.
"…Shut up," he muttered.
Kuro plopped down beside him, legs kicked out. "Look, blondie. I get it. Mystery girl turns out to be the heiress to one of the most Powerful houses. We've all been there."
Klaus gave him a flat look. "Have we?"
"No. But I imagine it's a lot like waking up after a night of drinking and finding out you've adopted a talking goat."
A pause.
"…You have the strangest metaphors."
"I try."
They sat like that for a moment—two wildly different souls beneath a peach-hued sky.
Then Klaus looked up, finally really seeing where they were.
Beyond the cottage stretched an endless, glassy sea. The waters shimmered like liquid sapphire under a golden sky painted with brushstrokes of violet and rose. There was no city, no walls, no world as he knew it.
Just beauty. Unreal. Serene.
"This place… where even are we?"
Kuro smirked, one eyebrow arched with fox-like mischief. "Welcome, kid, to my own personal hideaway. A little rift pocket I carved out from the folds of reality. Think… vacation home meets fever dream."
Klaus blinked. "You made this?"
"Yup. All real. All fake. Depends on how many dimensions you believe in."
"How do I get something like this?"
Kuro grinned like the devil offering a deal. "Well first, you need to become the physical embodiment of existential charisma. Then bend quantum probability and arcane memory into a single spatial loop... and don't forget the feng shui."
Klaus stared.
"…You're not going to tell me, are you."
"Absolutely not."
Klaus sighed and stood, but the weight he carried earlier now seemed… smaller.
Lighter.
He faced the wind again, the sea breeze curling around his face.
Kuro watched Klaus with an unreadable look, his usual sly grin dimming just for a breath. The sea breeze carried salt and silence between them. Then he stepped forward and, for once, spoke without sarcasm.
"You want to stop falling? Want to make sure no one takes anything from you ever again?"
Klaus nodded.
Kuro's voice dropped, quiet but sharp.
"Then stand the hell up. Stop crawling through memories like they're graves. If you really meant what you said back there—if you swore to rise—then prove it."
Kuro tilted his chin toward the crashing waves below.
"The peak doesn't wait, kid. You chase it with everything or you don't chase it at all."
Klaus closed his eyes.
His heart slowed. His thoughts sharpened. Emotion dulled—not lost, but hidden behind iron. It was the posture of warriors before war. Of soldiers before blood. When love, grief, and rage all become still so that the sword may speak.
He opened his eyes.
There was no rage now.
Only resolve.
"Yes," Klaus said.
Kuro's grin returned, wide and dangerous. He stood beside him, arms crossed, the wind lifting the hem of his coat like a curtain before battle.
"Then let's begin."
He stepped forward casually and pressed his palm to Klaus's chest.
Klaus instinctively flinched.
"Oh relax, I'm not copping a feel," Kuro said with a wink. "You're not my type. Too broody. Needs more smiles, less trauma."
Klaus rolled his eyes, but said nothing.
His brows furrowed.
"…Huh."
He tried again, hand hovering just a breath away.
Still nothing.
Kuro stepped back slowly, frowning. "Okay, are you messing with me? I felt more presence from a dead squirrel yesterday."
Klaus didn't answer.
Kuro's tone sharpened, half-joking."Are you one of those mythical stage-breakers?"
"No."
"…Are you even from Earth?"
"No."
Kuro blinked. "Wait, really?"
Klaus turned slightly. "That one was sarcasm."
"Oh, thank god." Kuro exhaled, then leaned in again. "Alright, seriously—what are you? Some kind of hidden weapon? Walking void? Cursed heir of a forgotten realm?"
"No."
Kuro raised both hands. "Come on, man! Give me something.
A long pause. Then, with a defeated sigh, Kuro muttered, "Fine. What can you actually do, mystery man?"
Klaus raised a hand. Wind spiraled around his arm like a living blade. His other hand crackled with thin, hungry arcs of lightning.
Kuro stared. His foxlike grin returned, wider now.
"Wind and lightning…" he said, voice low with amusement. "You know, for a guy who says nothing—you say a hell of a lot."
Klaus stayed silent, unsure whether to reveal more.
Should I tell him about the bloodline? About what I really am?
No. Not yet.
"Yeah, I know," Klaus said simply.
With a theatrical sigh, Kuro stepped back and stretched.
"Well, fine. You little cheat code. Let's see what you've got. Do your worst."
Klaus said nothing, but he stepped forward. The wind around him shivered. Lightning buzzed faintly beneath his skin.
The breeze danced lazily along the shoreline, salt mixing with something stranger—like the scent of static before a storm. The skies above shimmered faintly, not quite real, like painted glass suspended in motion. Crystalline waves rolled endlessly onto silver sand, the ocean stretching beyond imagination. It wasn't Earth. It wasn't any world Klaus knew.
This was Kuro's Rift. A world apart. Untouched. Still.
And about to be violently disturbed.
Kuro stood barefoot in the warm sand, his long coat fluttering gently behind him. His hands were in his pockets. His grin—wide and sharp—was insufferable.
Klaus stepped forward, silent. The breeze thickened around him. Sparks flickered off his skin, veins glowing faintly with violet energy as his hair tousled in the rising wind.
Kuro raised a brow.
"Still brooding? Geez, you're making this beach episode feel like a funeral."
He jogged a short distance back across the beach, kicking sand as he moved.
Then he turned, stretching one arm lazily and flashing a grin.
He cracked his neck and dropped into a ready stance.
Kuro cracked his knuckles and gave Klaus a lazy grin. "Alright, Captain Gloom. Show me what that 'mysterious past' training arc got you. Impress me, or at least don't die trying."
Klaus didn't respond. His eyes narrowed, violet wind beginning to stir at his feet—silent, sharp, surgical. He didn't rush in like a brute. He moved like a whisper in a thunderstorm.
Remember the Echo's words. Don't rush. Let the wind speak. Move when it moves.
In an instant, Klaus vanished—reappearing to Kuro's left with a slicing wind-kick. Kuro twisted with casual grace, avoiding it like he was stepping around a puddle.
Klaus didn't stop. He spun mid-air, fired a compressed arc of slicing wind that split a boulder behind Kuro clean in two. Still, Kuro remained untouched.
"Nice form," Kuro chirped, dancing backward. "Bit extra, but I respect the flair."
Klaus appeared behind him—fast. Too fast. His wind-enhanced movement blurred his body like a mirage. He swept forward, aiming a chop at Kuro's neck.
Kuro ducked, weaved around, and tapped Klaus's back as he passed. "Tag."
Klaus skidded to a halt, gritting his teeth. He'd used everything the Echo drilled into him—flow, tempo, instinct.
Still nothing.
Kuro kept dodging, light on his feet. "You got all the moves, but none of the hits. Who taught you how to fight, a dance instructor?"
Klaus flung a spear of wind—Kuro bent under it, barely blinking.
"Buuut if you can't even land a hit," Kuro smirked, "how in all twelve flaming hells did you make Varion Ignar take a knee? Did he just trip over his own fire ego?"
That hit a nerve.
Klaus's brow twitched. He inhaled deeply.
Then exploded.
A gust howled outward as Klaus's entire aura surged—wind shrieking like a living thing. The beach trembled. Trees bent violently away from the force. He dashed forward again, this time pure aggression. His movements lost elegance—replaced by sheer, brutal instinct. The wind didn't whisper. It roared.
Kuro blinked—still dodging, barely—but this time with a genuine spark in his eyes.
"Ohhh, there he is. Look at you, going full elemental gremlin. But heads up: yelling with your powers doesn't make them stronger."
Klaus hurled a tornado-stab directly at his opponent's chest. Kuro parried it with a small wind pulse of his own, sliding to the side.
"You're fighting like a wild animal," Kuro said, eyes tracking Klaus's every twitch. "I mean, you've got the raw power, sure—but you're just swinging with rage. Use your head, not just your fury."
Klaus didn't reply, but something in his stance adjusted. He took a breath. Then another.
Find the rhythm. Feel the motion. Don't chase—flow.
He came in again—this time tighter, more precise.
Kuro nodded once, ducking under a spinning slash. "Better. Now you're thinking."
A few more exchanges—Klaus was adapting mid-fight, his Echo-trained instincts subtly surfacing through his actions. But his frustration was clear.
Kuro exhaled and called out, "Y'know... you're using wind and lightning, right?"
Klaus halted mid-attack, chest heaving. "Yeah?"
"Then why are you treating them like divorced parents? Mix them."
Klaus blinked. "…Mix?"
Kuro spun out of the way and grinned over his shoulder. "Yeah. You've got two flavors—make a storm."
Klaus didn't move. His arms sparked and whirled, but the concept felt foreign. "How?"
Kuro stopped mid-dodge and turned to face him fully. "It's not about smashing them together. Think of them like rhythm and melody. Separate sounds, but together? Music."
Klaus didn't react.
Kuro sighed, then held out both hands. In one, a breeze coiled into a tight spiral. In the other, static crackled in short pulses. "Watch," he said.
The wind wrapped around the sparks—not fighting them, but flowing with their rhythm. A flicker of storm-light shimmered between his palms.
"It's about harmony," Kuro added. "Let one move with the other. Guide it. Don't force it."
Then he let the energy disperse.
Klaus stared at his own hands. One wreathed in violet wind. One alive with jittering lightning.
He closed his eyes.
Wind curled around his right arm in violent coils. Lightning surged down his left in bright veins. He took a breath—and brought them closer together.
The air trembled.
The forces resisted at first, unstable, clashing. But he remembered Kuro's example. He didn't force them. He let the wind carry the current—let the lightning ride the flow.
A radiant blast detonated outward, shaking the shore. Kuro raised an arm to shield his face as sand whipped up in waves.
When the dust cleared, Klaus stood tall—eyes glowing pale indigo. Wind coiled around him like a living storm, streaked through with glowing arcs of lightning.
Kuro's ears twitched. He gave a low whistle. "Okay. Now you're sexy."
Klaus didn't answer.
But the sky darkened above them as he raised both hands—and charged.
A pillar of wind erupted as Klaus launched himself forward, tearing through the air like a missile. His body became a blur—veins lit with violet lightning, hair whipped wildly, sand parting beneath his steps with every burst of pressure.
The sky churned, dark clouds circling the edges of the battlefield. The ocean nearby rose in choppy tides, whipped by the spiraling storm forming around them. The scent of ozone thickened.
Klaus struck. His fist carved a sonic arc through the air.
Kuro dodged sideways with ease, the attack splitting a boulder behind him with a thunderous crack. Another swing—this time from above—slammed down like a guillotine. Wind howled, electricity hissed.
The blade of wind grazed him. A shallow tear licked across the shoulder of his robe.
Kuro blinked.
He looked down at the cut.
Then up at Klaus.
A pause.
Then—a slow grin spread across his face. Not the playful smirk from before. This was something else.
Excitement.
"…Well, well," Kuro murmured, tilting his head slightly. "You actually touched me."
His eyes gleamed. Not with mockery—but interest. A predator's curiosity.
"You know how long it's been since someone earned that?"
Klaus stayed silent, lightning flickering at his back, wind howling around his ankles.
Kuro exhaled, almost laughing. "You're fun!"
He rolled his neck once, the atmosphere tightening like a bowstring.
"Alright then," he said softly, hand brushing the air beside his waist.
A soundless hum filled the air.
"Let me get a little serious"
The spectral blade ignited.
And then—
He vanished.