The crowd leaned forward as Klaus stepped into the sunlit arena—his silhouette sharp against the blazing sky.
Gone was the ragged look of recovery.
He walked like a phantom now—shoulders square, eyes cold, not a trace of emotion on his face. His once messy hair was sleek, touched by stark white streaks. A new black combat tunic clung to his lean, defined form like shadows stitched into cloth. Every movement whispered precision. Calm.
Calculated.
Across from him stood Tolan Resh of the Crimson Vault, flexing his gauntlets with a cruel smirk. "You look like you stepped out of a noble's funeral," Tolan barked. "Hope you've got one planned for yourself."
Klaus didn't answer.
Kaen blinked from the stands.
"Damn... He's seriously gone full executioner mode."
Kuro crossed his arms, lips twitching into a knowing grin."Showtime."
The referee raised his hand.
"BEGIN!"
Tolan moved first—explosively fast. His gauntlets screamed through the air, carving vicious arcs. Sparks burst from the sand where his blows landed. But every strike missed. Klaus didn't dodge wildly—he simply wasn't there when the hits came.
His eyes tracked every motion. Every breath. Every step of Tolan's approach.
Cold. Perfect. Unfazed.
Then Klaus raised a single hand. Open palm.
The air shimmered.
And Tolan's gauntlets stopped mid-swing—locked.
Tolan's eyes widened. "Wha—?"
A ripple of invisible force spread from Klaus's body. The arena hushed as a low hum buzzed through the stone beneath them.
"What... is that?" someone whispered in the stands.
"Energy Manipulation—also known as Energy Control or Ergokinesis—is the power to command the fundamental force behind all physical interactions. Users can
transform, absorb, or redirect energy in any of its forms: kinetic, thermal,
electromagnetic, or more.But Klaus's mastery wasn't just surface-level energy.
It was something deeper.Something few could even comprehend."
"Atomo-Ergokinesis."
"The user can control energy at the atomic level—tapping into the forces that make atoms move and react. This means they can influence how matter behaves at its most basic level, doing things normal energy control could never achieve."
"Unlike nuclear powers, which focus on the energy stored in atomic nuclei, Atomo-Ergokinesis lets you control any kind of energy by manipulating how atoms themselves interact. It's where matter and energy start to blur… and even the rules of physics begin to bend."
Klaus clenched his fingers.
The air around Tolan distorted. His muscles seized, spasming from the inside out as the kinetic energy in his joints froze. Heat bled from his body as Klaus siphoned it atom by atom. Tolan's own sweat vaporized from sudden temperature shifts.
He dropped to one knee, groaning in agony.
Klaus walked forward—slow, silent.
Then, with a twitch of his finger—Tolan's gauntlets exploded off his hands, dismantled by atomic stress.
Klaus reached down, grabbed Tolan by the collar, and spoke—voice flat, emotionless.
"Your gauntlets had more fight than you did."
He hurled him across the arena. Tolan crashed, bounced, and didn't move again.
Silence.
Then chaos.
"WHAT JUST HAPPENED?!"
"What the hell did we just see?!"
"No way… That guy didn't cast anything!"
"How did he do that?!"
"That wasn't normal. That wasn't even human!"
The referee looked stunned, stammering before raising his hand.
"WINNER — KLAUS!"
Kaen stared with his mouth open. "Bro... I didn't even feel that kind of pressure in our war days. What the hell did you teach him!?"
Kuro smirked, eyes twinkling like a mad scientist watching the monster take its first steps."Energy is the foundation of all things. Klaus just learned how to rewrite the laws behind them."
Kaen blinked, looking from Kuro to Klaus.
"…We're so screwed if he ever turns evil."
Klaus stood in the center of the arena, eyes lifted to the crowd. No bow. No smile. No sign of effort.
---
Hours After the Preliminaries
The sun dipped behind the arena walls as Klaus walked alone through the side gates—shoulders squared, eyes forward. No guards. No entourage. Just the silence of stone and sand behind him.
He didn't look back.
He didn't need to.
Word had already spread like wildfire.
Atomo-Ergokinesis. No elemental casting. Total suppression.
And that look in his eyes.
Klaus turned down a quiet street, cutting through a side district. The crowds were gone, but only for a moment.
Then—thunder.
A stampede.
From the end of the avenue, a flood of bodies surged toward him—dozens, maybe over a hundred. They weren't screaming fans or reporters. These were hunters. Recruiters. Operatives.
Black-coated guild agents with flashing badges. Corporate scouts in sleek armor. War contractors in worn-down trench coats, hands resting on energy weapons just in case.
They wanted him. And they wanted him first.
Klaus paused, unsure. His muscles tensed, gaze sharp, breath held—
But before he could move, a soft sigh echoed beside him.
Kuro stepped from the alley shadows.
Still in his longcoat, he barely raised his hand.
Then—a flicker.
Not a roar, not a blast.
Just a taste of pressure.
Kuro let a single thread of his aura bleed into the air. It was cold. Dense. Unnatural.
Like space itself had hiccuped.
The first line of agents froze.
Then the second.
Then the wave shattered.
Dozens of trained professionals—all hardened by years of war and blood—turned on their heels and fled like prey.
No words.
No threats.
Just survival.
Kuro didn't look at Klaus.
He just stuffed his hands in his coat pockets and muttered, "Idiots. They smell blood and think they've found a stray. They don't realize it's the last thing they'll ever see."
Klaus exhaled.
"…Thanks."
Kuro glanced sideways. "You looked like you were about to ask them for directions."
Klaus said nothing.
They kept walking.
---
Later That Evening – "The Emberhorn Tavern"
The door to the tavern slammed open with a gust of warm night air and a dozen heads turned—half-expecting trouble.
Instead, they saw Kaen stomping in like a war drummer, grinning ear to ear.Kuro followed with his usual slouch, a wild gleam in his eyes.
And behind them, silent as a shadow—Klaus.
The tavern buzzed with whispers.
"That's him."
"The kid from the arena…"
"He didn't even use an element, right?"
"Don't look at him. Just—don't."
Kaen clapped his hands and strode to the bar like he owned the place. "Three flame ales! Top shelf! And keep 'em coming!"
Kuro flopped onto a wooden bench and dragged Klaus down with him. "You know," he said, swirling a finger through the condensation on the table, "normal people get applause when they win a match. You got panic and a minor religion."
Klaus didn't answer. His eyes were locked on nothing—staring straight ahead. Calm. Unblinking.
Kaen slid a drink in front of him. "Come on, stoneface. Loosen up. You just dismantled one of the Crimson Vault's best. That's worth a toast."
Klaus glanced down at the mug, then pushed it aside. "I don't drink."
Kuro smirked. "Of course you don't."
Kaen rolled his eyes. "Alright, then we'll drink for you. To the executioner!"
Kuro raised his mug lazily. "To the boy who bends atoms."
They clinked mugs and drank.
Around them, the tavern carried on in hushed tension—people trying not to stare, trying not to breathe too loudly in the presence of whatever Klaus Aetherion was becoming.
And Klaus?
He sat in the center of it all.
Silent.
Unmoved.
The Emberhorn roared with life—glass mugs clinking, laughter booming, old war songs echoing from the far booth. Kaen and Kuro sat at a scarred wooden table surrounded by empty mugs, the air heavy with the scent of fire-roasted meat and spiced liquor.
Kaen threw his head back, laughing. "No, no—don't you try and lie! I remember it, Kuro! You screamed when that moth flew into your armor!"
Kuro slammed his mug down, red-faced. "It was a mutated fire-moth from Sector 9! It wasn't just a moth!"
Kaen wheezed. "It was a lantern bug with wing rot!"
Kuro jabbed a finger. "You got stuck in a trench hole because you thought the mud was warm soup."
Kaen choked on his drink. "IT SMELLED LIKE STEW!"
They both burst into another round of laughter, slapping the table, scaring the poor waitress who was already regretting ever serving them.
Meanwhile, Klaus sat silent across from them, sipping water, expression unreadable. His eyes followed nothing in particular—until they didn't.
Thud.
Face-down. Right onto the table.
Both men froze mid-laugh.
Kaen blinked. "Uh…"
Kuro leaned in slowly. "Did he… just pass out?"
Silence.
Then Kuro grinned too wide.
"Kaen," he said with growing excitement. "Get me a camera."
"Oh no," Kaen grinned back. "You're not—"
"I am," Kuro said, already fishing in his pocket for a marker. "I'm immortalizing this moment."
Klaus, the unbreakable predator of the arena, was now face-first in a puddle of water and dignity. His arms hung limp at his sides like a broken puppet.
Kuro straddled the bench, leaned in, tongue out in concentration. "Okay, little fangs here… devil horns… oh let's give him eyelashes so long they slap people…"
He cackled like a madman, Kaen egging him on—
Until he stopped.
Mid-stroke. Mid-laugh.
Everything in him froze.
Kaen blinked. "Yo. What is it?"
Kuro stood up slowly, eyes narrowing toward the tavern entrance. His smile was gone. Erased like chalk in the rain.
"…Stay here," he muttered.
Kaen rose. "Kuro—what's going on?"
Kuro didn't answer. He just moved, silent and swift, weaving through the tavern crowd and pushing out the door.
The night outside was quiet.
Too quiet.
Kuro scanned the shadows. A chill ran up his spine. It wasn't fear. It was recognition.
Footprints in the dust. Disturbance in the air. A fading trace of energy that made his stomach knot.
Kaen jogged out after him, hand on his blade. "You felt something. What was it?"
Kuro's glasses glinted in the moonlight. His voice was calm.
"…Nothing."
But in his mind, his thoughts were anything but calm.
No fucking way… How are they here!?
He didn't blink.
Didn't breathe.
He just stared into the night.
Because if what he felt was real—
—then something impossible had just entered their city.