Klaus reached into his burned storage ring and pulled out a robe. The fabric was dark, plain, and simple. Without hesitation, he slipped it over his shoulders.
The moment the sleeve brushed against his newly regenerated arm, a sharp tingling sensation shot up his skin.
"Tch—" Klaus hissed under his breath as he slid his arm through. His fingers trembled slightly while he fumbled with the buttons, the fine motor control not quite answering him yet. The robe settled over his body, covering everything from the neck down, hiding the scars he preferred the world not see—and the ones he preferred to forget himself.
He took one step forward.
Then another sensation crept in.
Pins and needles stabbed at his feet, sharp and sudden.
Klaus stiffened, then promptly stumbled, bare feet sinking into the loose sand as he caught himself just short of falling flat on his face. He turned his head toward Ulon, brows drawn together in an irritated frown.
"What the hell," he said flatly. "Is this normal?"
Ulon snorted loudly, arms crossed as if this were the least interesting problem in the world. "The tingling in your hands and feet?" He waved a dismissive hand. "Perfectly normal. Your nerves are waking up. Give it a minute and stop acting like you're dying again."
"I already died once today," Klaus muttered.
"And yet here you are, complaining," Ulon shot back. "Truly inspiring."
Klaus clicked his tongue but straightened anyway. He took another step, then another—awkward and stiff, like someone learning to walk in a borrowed body. The sensation lingered stubbornly, then slowly faded, retreating until it was nothing more than an unpleasant memory.
"Huh," Klaus muttered. "Annoying."
He walked straight toward Kiel.
The boy was standing proudly in front of a massive pile of metallic scales, arms crossed, and chest puffed out, his grin stretched wide as if he had personally slain the wyrm with his bare hands. The scales shimmered dully under the sun, stacked into a chaotic mound that looked more like a hoard than a cleanup job.
Klaus stopped beside him. "Have you counted it?"
Kiel blinked, then laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. "No, Mr. Klaus. That's… way too many to count."
Klaus nodded as if that was exactly the answer he had expected.
He reached into his storage again and pulled out two revolvers.
The metal gleamed darkly in the light, polished yet ominous, the weapons heavy with presence and mana. The Devil's Arm.
"Here," Klaus said, tossing them casually toward Kiel. "It's yours now."
Kiel yelped.
He scrambled to catch both revolvers, nearly dropping one before clutching them tightly to his chest. His eyes widened as he felt the weight, the balance, the faint hum of mana beneath the metal. Then his face split into an uncontrollable grin.
He put the Devil's arm on his storage, "Thanks, Mr. Klaus!"
Klaus gave him a sideways look. "Better use it responsibly."
Kiel nodded far too fast. "Of course. Definitely. Absolutely responsibly."
Ulon groaned loudly from behind them. "I don't like that tone."
Ignoring him, Klaus turned toward the pile of scales. He tapped one with his finger.
The scale vanished.
Then another.
Then the entire pile began to sink inward, swallowed smoothly into the storage ring as if it had never existed at all. The sand beneath settled with a soft hiss.
Klaus glanced at the ring. "One thousand eighty-seven scales," he said calmly. "Not bad."
Ulon crossed his arms and scanned the horizon. The desert was quiet—too quiet. No shifting sand, no distant roars, not even the usual wind howling through the dunes.
"We need to regroup now," Ulon said. "The desert's been silent for a while. The battle ended long ago."
He didn't wait for a response and started walking.
The noon sun burned mercilessly as they moved. Kiel immediately began complaining—about the heat, about the sand, about how unfair it was that Klaus healed while he still had blisters. Klaus ignored him completely, while Ulon kept yelling at him to shut his mouth every few steps, which only encouraged Kiel to complain louder.
Soon, the familiar shapes of their formation came into view.
Petra and Shane still stood face to face, only a few meters apart. Petra's black armor was badly damaged—deep scratches ran across it, and a large hole in the abdomen exposed her pale skin beneath. Her shoulder hung awkwardly. Shane, on the other hand, looked nothing like himself. His abomination form loomed massive and grotesque, a towering shape that felt more like something dragged straight out of the underworld than a man.
Maddy sat on a rock beneath the shade of a larger one, arms wrapped around herself, eyes fixed on the two figures as if afraid to blink. Shalotte hovered nearby in a fae form, wings beating slowly as pink dust drifted down and settled over Petra and Shane like glowing pollen.
Kiel stopped dead the moment he saw Shalotte.
"What a view," he muttered, eyes shining with admiration.
Ulon smacked the back of his head. "Looks like your testosterone is the only thing working fine on you."
"Ow—hey!"
Klaus didn't comment. His eyes were locked on Petra and Shane.
He then approached Maddy, who hadn't noticed them yet. "How long have they been asleep?"
Maddy flinched, then turned sharply. "Oh—you're back. Have you eliminated the other one?"
Ulon chimed in loudly, "Yeah, Klaus did it. When we got there, the wyrm was already dead."
Maddy's eyes widened. "Seriously?!"
"I had the same doubt," Ulon continued. "But he really did it. I wouldn't believe it either, but I saw him crawling out of the beast's throat."
Maddy stared at Klaus. "How?"
Ulon shrugged. "I think he got swallowed whole and let himself explode. His body was charred up. Lost almost all his limbs."
Maddy shot to her feet. "Let me see."
"Are you sure?" Klaus said smoothly. "I'm naked beneath this robe."
It was a lie—his clothes were burned and torn, but not completely gone.
Maddy stopped, looked down, and noticed his bare feet. "…Never mind."
Klaus walked past her toward Shane. "You never answered my question. How long have they been asleep?"
"Almost half an hour," Maddy said quickly. "Don't go near. It's dangerous."
"I can handle it."
He stopped a few steps away from Shane and tossed a blanket over the massive form. "He might transform back in a few minutes," Klaus said calmly. "I don't want to see him naked."
Klaus looked up at Shalotte. "Can you keep up?"
"I'm almost at my limit," Shalotte admitted.
Klaus gripped the end of the blanket.
"Trap Master: Swallowing Darkness."
The blanket glowed dimly. A circular rune formed beneath it, pulsing once before vanishing.
"You can rest," Klaus said. "I set a sleep trap. If he moves, it'll activate."
Shalotte nodded and landed clumsily, reverting to a normal form.
"Aw, man," Kiel muttered.
Petra suddenly slumped. Shalotte barely caught her, struggling. "Maddy—help! I can't carry her!"
Maddy rushed over, and together they moved Petra into the shade.
Then the ground trembled.
A massive shadow descended from the sky.
Zevy landed with a thunderous flap, dust exploding outward. Cukuz tumbled off Zevy's back, face-first into the sand, then scrambled up, clutching Shane's pouch. His big purple eyes welled with tears, but he wiped them away and marched forward stubbornly.
"Want me to carry that?" Klaus asked gently.
Cukuz shook his head and clutched the pouch tighter.
The blanket depleted.
Few moments later.
Shane emerged, fully clothed, holding Cukuz in his arms. He scanned the surroundings once.
"Mission success," he said calmly.