As the silver coin of the full moon reached its zenith in the night sky, a sudden tremor stirred the darkness. Accompanied by the distant thunder of war drums and the rising clamor of human voices, an armada of wooden ships surged forth like a tidal wave of flame and shadow. Lanterns flickered upon their hulls, casting golden halos across red and white sails—though under the pale moonlight, all colors bled to gray, dulled and ghostly.
The vessels surged ahead in tight formation, a flowing river of fire and steel. On every deck, silhouettes moved with practiced urgency—soldiers readying their weapons, nocking arrows to taut bowstrings, and captains gazing skyward with grim, unsmiling faces. The moonlight glinted off their armor, stark and cold.
Then, breaking the quiet tension like a heartbeat in still air, a lone black speck appeared against the brilliant moon. It drifted forward, steadily growing in size—until at last, a single majestic ship revealed itself, cutting across the sky with eerie grace. Far larger and more refined than the others, it sailed fearlessly toward the advancing fleet. A wondrous tree twined its way around the ship's mast, its leaves whispering in the high wind. At the oar stood a man of pale complexion and raven hair, his clear grey eyes alight with moonfire.
At least a hundred warships had risen into the air to intercept the sorcerer's advance—each brimming with warriors, some Awakened, others Ascended, all elite. The finest blades the fractured factions could muster.
Below, on an island adjacent to the Ivory City, a battalion stood at the ready. Over a thousand soldiers formed a bristling wall of steel and resolve. Most were mundane humans or Awakened combatants, but here and there among their ranks stood the unmistakable aura of Ascended champions, prepared to hold the line.
And somewhere in the distance… three Immortal Transcendents watched and waited in silence, biding their time to enter the fray.
Cassie took a slow breath, steadying her nerves. Her eyes scanned the night before settling on the lone ship and the sorcerer at its helm. Then, with a small, composed smile, she turned to Noctis.
"Lord Noctis," she asked gently, "may I inquire… where is Klaus?"
Noctis raised a dark brow, a mischievous glint lighting his gaze. He gave a flamboyant shrug, laughing under his breath.
"Ah, my delightful disaster of a student... Where indeed?"
Their small cohort exchanged bewildered glances. Sunny scowled, opening his mouth to deliver some scathing remark—only to freeze as the ship's door creaked open. Smoke billowed out like a ghostly fog, and from it emerged Klaus.
And not just Klaus.
Trailing behind him was a haze of burnt plastic and metal fumes. His hair was tousled, his pupils dilated, his bloodshot eyes wild with manic glee. He was laughing—loudly, uncontrollably—his fingers twitching with barely restrained energy.
He stumbled forward and shouted with gleeful abandon:
"Foil! I found foil! Yes! WE HAVE FOUND FOIL!"
The group stared, stunned into silence. Then came the collective sigh of exasperation. With the plastic bottle in one hand, foil-covered pipe in the other, and a cloud of acrid smoke rising behind him, the scene was… self-explanatory.
He inhaled again, erupting into a fit of coughing and laughter, then thrust the makeshift device into Noctis's hand.
"If we're going into battle, we're doing it high, damn it."
Noctis stared at him for a long, unreadable moment.
Then he, too, laughed—head thrown back, voice echoing across the deck—before inhaling without hesitation. The cohort watched them in mute disbelief.
Now?! Really?! This is when you choose to do drugs?! You lunatics!
Yet Klaus had his reasons. He needed preparation for the coming battle, in his own twisted way. The inscriptions of true names upon his spirit cores were complete—but there were… other preparations.
He grinned, a crooked, sinister smile curving his lips. Something wicked stirred in his chest.
This was going to be… spectacular.
Noctis glanced toward the distant sea of stars and ships. His hand shifted on the oar, sending the vessel into another silent, graceful turn. Then, his voice rose again:
"Can't you feel it? The other Chain Lords are approaching. Song of the Fallen, my dear… you'll have to take the helm soon. Worry not. As long as the moon graces us with her light, I shall deal with the others. Sunless, Athena, Kai… I trust you'll manage the rest. And my charming student…"
He looked over his shoulder at Klaus, smirking.
"…I trust you know exactly what to do."
Klaus gave no reply—only stared down at the battalion below, his gaze unreadable and cold.
Then, in a raspy voice, Noctis chuckled again.
"Do keep an eye on those enemy ships, though. If you're not careful, they'll rip my beautiful vessel to shreds… not to mention fill you with arrows."
Even as he spoke, the first ranks of enemy ships were within range, their onagers and ballistae primed to unleash a devastating volley. Noctis's vessel was swift, yes—but no ship could survive such an onslaught alone.
Klaus tensed, his pupils narrowing into two amethyst slits.
But then—
Before the enemy's steel rain could fall, fourteen shadows streaked into the sky, soaring from the crags below the floating islands. They struck the enemy formation like bolts of living lightning—ships splintered, limbs scattered, and for a brief, chaotic moment, the invincible fleet faltered.
Seizing the brief window of chaos, Noctis hurled his vessel into a steep dive. The wind howled against the hull as the ship tilted, narrowly evading the rain of projectiles from the advancing armada. In the same breath, the sorcerer veered to starboard, exposing the side of the ship. Another volley of ballista bolts was unleashed, carving shrieking arcs through the sky and sowing further ruin amidst the enemy's ranks.
A wild grin danced upon Noctis's lips as he glanced toward Sunny, Effie, and Kai, eyes gleaming like twin stars of madness.
"It is your moment, friends! Now or nev—"
But the words died in his throat.
He faltered.
The color drained from his already pallid face until he resembled a ghost more than a man. A low, strained groan escaped him as he turned his gaze upward, eyes widening with disbelief and quiet horror.
Then came the whisper—low, rasping, and dreadfully grave:
"…Oh, this is not good. Not good at all…"
A cold shiver crawled down the spines of the cohort. Their breath hitched as they followed the sorcerer's gaze—skyward, past the mists and clouds, past the glittering canopy of stars.
And then, they saw it.
The moon…
The moon was vanishing.
High above, the silver disc that had bathed the world in its ethereal glow was being swallowed by shadow—devoured by a vast, creeping darkness. One edge had already been consumed, and with each passing moment, more of the light was erased, as though the heavens themselves had condemned the moon to oblivion.
It was no ordinary phenomenon.
It looked like an eclipse—yet felt like something far more ominous. A terrible portent. A silent prophecy unfurling in the firmament.
Noctis let out a strained chuckle, brittle and void of mirth, as though trying to laugh away the weight of the omen.
Klaus followed his gaze, clicking his tongue with irritation and unease. He had known—of course he had known—that such a shadow could only spell misfortune. The moon's radiance was Noctis's wellspring of power. Without it…
"…Bloody hell," Klaus muttered bitterly. "Now we're well and truly fucked."
He cast a weary glance at the sky as enemy ships surged closer, their hulls bristling with strange arcane weapons that glowed with latent power—enchanted siege engines ready to tear through flesh and wood alike. And below, the waiting army stood poised to strike, their formation gleaming like a blade drawn against the heavens.
Klaus grimaced. The odds were already stacked against them, and now, with the sorcerer's strength waning beneath the darkened sky, their precarious advantage slipped further into ruin.
With a defeated sigh, he sat upon the balcony at the edge of the deck, expression bleak, eyes distant.
"Well," he murmured, voice heavy with irony, "at least the bastard's back…"
***
Geez, finally it starts. I was sick of writing previous chapters. Anyway, i was planning on making chapters describing what happens before battle and all but decided against it. Simply because I don't care. I will explain that later sure but it be short to understand what Klaus was doing.
Well, at least i be done with this nightmare soon and start another arc where i be focusing on Klaus, Ascendancy and other stuff. Not cohort and nightmare which we already know about.
***