Klaus was standing still, admiring his work. The frozen crystal that surrounded his enemy was a product of a spell matrix his sword possessed. Like most of his spells, he relied on the equipment to bring out its full potential. The Battle Set was an inherited family treasure, ancient and powerful. He was unable to bring out its full potential. As the shattered breastplate proved, the equipment could only be as strong as its wearer allows it to be.

With a smirk, Klaus looked at the Tri-Horned Glacier sword that rested in his palm. The broken limb was causing him so much pain, broken by that animal. Yet the sword calmed him, icy waves of energy numbed his broken arm, and helped it remain stable and strong. Helped him trap that annoying mix of blood.

“WUNDERBAR!” He exclaimed as his victim struggled.

“My time has come! Finally, injustice will be corrected, filth will be cleaned, order restored. Oh, how I waited for this... OH, HOW WILL YOU SUFFER.” He rambled as the crackle of ice accompanied his speech.

A mist wafted from the crystals that spread along Luke's body, unyielding to his tries to release himself, stealing any possibility of movement from him completely.

Luke struggled, he begged for power to overcome his confinement.

“ You, an aberration, dared to challenge me? Your very existence is an affront to the natural order. How amusing that you believed yourself equal to me. I, Klaus, stand as the embodiment of purity, untainted by the filth that courses through your veins. Your mixed blood, a cacophony of weakness and dilution, could never hope to challenge the superiority that is inherently mine.

Do you feel it? The weight of your insignificance crushing you? Your feeble attempts to defy me only serve to amuse. You are a stain on the canvas of perfection, a grotesque masterpiece of misfortune. I remember our first encounter – the stench of your presence, the visceral recoil as your tainted essence polluted the air. I thought it was a mere inconvenience, an anomaly that would vanish into obscurity. But you lingered, like a foul odor refusing to dissipate.

The injury you inflicted upon me, an affront that should never have occurred, haunted my every waking moment. Shame, a bitter taste that clung to my tongue, fueled by the laughter of my father and brothers. They mocked me relentlessly, questioning my strength, my purity. I could feel their disdain, their disappointment in having sired such a pathetic offspring. It was a wound that festered within me, a reminder of my temporary weakness.

Now, as I stand over you, the promise of retribution echoes through the air. I will make you suffer, not just for the defiance you displayed but for the shame you forced upon me. The torture that awaits you will be a symphony of agony, a poetic justice for the stain you dared to be on the canvas of my existence.

You will suffer, and your close ones will follow your step. I will find each and every person that carries even a trace of your foul stench and make you watch as agony becomes the only facet of reality they understand. None shall be spared!“

As the ice reached up to his jaw he knew he only had seconds to spare. He had to make it meaningful, make it count.

“You fucking Nazi piece of shit, no matter how many you kill, how much you manipulate, you will always only be a second-rate, dickless, unwanted daddy's boy! You fucking schnitzel!”

Klaus reacted to that violently, and without thought, he backhanded Luke, with a force that would crush a stone, it erupted on contact with his jaw. Luke's head snapped sideways as his jaw came loose. Teeth were released from their grasp of the jaw.

“DON'T YOU DARE MENTION MY FATHER” Klaus Jr. yelled, spittle gluing onto Luke's face.

* I guess daddy issues are common* he thought to himself as his thoughts were clouded by pain.

Dazed and in a lot of pain, he moved his jaw slowly, and loose teeth slid down his throat. One was left. A memory reignited in his mind.

Drawing on whatever his distorted telekinetic field could reach he packed in as much power as he could. The tooth he preserved in his mouth started vibrating. With a thought, it started shining ever more brightly as immense power and magic suffuesed it. Heat and flame ignited the enamel.

With a rapid snap of his neck, a last hope thrust, he spit forward and a tooth shot out from his mouth, the power of it ripping away chunks of flesh at his cheeks, leaving the rest of his gums and teeth bleeding and opening to the wind. The sinew is the only piece connecting the jaw the the rest of the skull.

He grinned as blood flew down his chin. Staining his chest crimson red.

The projectile erupted with a mean force, with a boom that shot out the cheek meat, it propelled forward, hitting Klaus Jr. dead on the side of his face. Peeling of skin, muscle, and sinew right down to the bone, traveling forward with enough force to spread away his left ear and crack the bone.

Klaus's head whiplashed, surprised, and hurt, he sucked his breath in. As if unable to believe, he touched his rugged hand to the ripped sinew and gazed back upon the bluish ichor that stained it. His cheek was being grazed by the cold, winter wind.

“you... YOU FUCKING FILTH!” He yelled, stopping his monologue. Another slash, enforcing the incasing in ice. It rose rapidly to cover Luke's face. The bloody grin is immortalized in a cover of frost.

These dark, depthless eyes gaze with pity and contempt straight through Klaus. It infuriated him.

The Ice crackled with malice all around his and his prey's body.

He turned his back to the filth and released a sigh of relief.

*Finally, that was dangerously close, never could I expect someone would be so barbaric to battle it out in the real. Such is the way of those born as a lesser breed, I guess.” he wondered.

His body relaxed, and with a groan, as he accepted the pain signals and torment his mind was blocking away from his body. It flooded him and with a grimace, his arms cast released. The broken arm, a source of radiating pain, his face, his chest. All a mess. He started slowly casting the healing spells and consuming potions as the Glacier Prison rose in mass and size behind him.

The shame from being so violently castrated made him tremble. He could not even bring himself to look downwards. He knew it was reversible, but the process... The Flesh Weavers were pricy, and the pain they brought upon them was already making him panic. To add salt to the wound, he had to use one of his precious life-saving artifacts. His father was going to put him down so much for it, that his brothers will mock him. As if getting his third horn infected and limiting his future growth was not enough of a shame. His anger rose within, his heartbeat was deafeningly loud in his own ears. The world around him became blurred as he sank into thought.

At the same time, Luke was immobile, panic and despair filling his mind with deafening noise. Agony from his skin being instantly frozen tore at his mind, the feeling of skin peeling off as it enlarged in size from the moisture within being frozen was like something he never experienced before, overwhelming. From the shame that he failed. He hoped for a win, he hoped he could save himself, somehow save his friends, maybe even Monsoon, and the Little Fella, he hoped for revenge.

That was his biggest mistake.

Hope.

Hope is the doom of those who are left without a choice.

It releases the person from the burden of responsibility.

* Maybe it will work out, I hope I can do it, it's possible to achieve it. *

NO

Only those blessed by fate may wish for hope to take the reins.

Those damned to failure need to abandon it. Not allow it for any hold over the outcome of their choices.

To hope is to allow for failure and to wish for a savior.

To Hope is to accept and allow for Weakness.

So, Luke gave up on Hope, and he released the hold on that which encumbered his soul.

With a blaze his body fired up, his chest sizzling as the power raged.

He allowed for all that his father taught him to come to the front of his mind. The violence that he despised, the ruthlessness and the joy of torment that he so much hated in himself.

He let go of the Good Ending.

He let go of the Hope for survival.

He started BURNING AWAY HOPE within himself.

He started a SELF-IMMOLATION, a punishment and a prize for those OF THE DAMNED fate.

IT embodied THE DYING SUN.

Conquer fate and be reborn anew, or fail and disappear into nothingness.

Luke made a Vow, he begged for more power and both powers raged in acceptance.

The Void demanded, it required the access.

But, it was rejected. The inhuman power almost shocked, if something unfavorable and immeasurable even could be.

The Chaos within pleaded for access and accepted the trade with greed. With Fuel to burn it could start the process of creation. A law of exchange.

And so, the final trial started.

Hope for Hatred.

The body was consumed in flames. Its cells expanded under the onslaught of heat, pushing against the ice. Skin raptured and melted with immense torment to its owner. Ribs cracked as they poked through the muscle, revealing the Primordial Heart, that thrummed and raged with a flame of impossible brilliance.

Within the confines of ice, from the silence that previously permitted it, a single THRUM was heard.

What followed was cracks. A single line marred the mirror-like surface of the ice prison.

CRACK CRACK CRACK.

With earth-shaking power, the body swelled. Wisps of colorless embers clothed his stature. Seeping out from the quickly rapturing skin.

The extended arm grabbed onto the Manifestation Of Slaughter. And it headed the call.

The sword slid upward from the wrist, feasting on the blood that the torn skin spilled and it grew.

It grew into its magnificence. The Bone Blade extended like a spine being stretched after a lazy slumber. With a rattle, the bones pierced the Ice. The serrated blade effortlessly melted and churned through the perma frost bindings that held its user, fueled by the last breath of a dying star.

With a spin of his wrist, the blade circled around him, shattering his prison into chunks, the edge of bone gliding along the rock and gouging deep into the earth. It created a circle around his body.

A deep ravine, separating reality from his own domain of power.

As the unprepared Klaus turned back, the blade had finished its round, and it extended forward with immense speed catching him from a side, like a whip, it coiled around his body and trapped it.

A bone centipede caught its prey, and it squeezed, with a vengeance.

It pushed to the side, and without a care for resistance, it lifted the Atlantian off his feet.

As Luke's feet were planted deep into the earth, melting it from the heat into red slag, Klaus rose into the air, Slammed by immense power and material that churned and whined like a chainsaw of rattling bones, peeling away the magical barrier hastily risen and the flesh it came into contact with.

Before a thought could coalesce, Klaus was thrown into a building wall, a resounding force took the breath out of his lungs as stray bricks fell on him.

Not a second passed since his body was embedded into the building. Dazed and confused he could feel the damage rattling his insides.

Before he could gather any thoughts of retaliation, Luke Heaved, both palms now cradled around the spine that was the handle of the sword. And with all the power he could manage, he swung the opposite way, ripping away his opponent from one building into another. The crash that followed was deafening, a wall was torn down, and a building was collapsing.

Klaus fought back, barely, he extended the icy bubble of his protection and fought off the blade that shredded. Barely.

It rebounded, giving him enough space to slip away from its grasp.

The Tool of Slaughter clanked loudly as it retracted to form a uniform double-handed sword, so similar in size to the one he was grasping himself.

The figure that held the Blade was almost unrecognizable.

The transformation was finished in the short time it took to slam him from side to side.

Now, IT stood tall, proud, with innumerable colors shining from the light that covered its frame.

The silhouette was barely recognizable amidst the haze of heat and the mist-melting ice was turning into rapidly. Still, those eyes, now fully consumed by darkness were gazing at him.

Through him.

In a flash of panic, Klaus pulled all stops off. He clad all the instant magic he had saved onto himself. The mystical armor, the protection talismans, and spells. The strengthening trinkets. All that he had at his disposal.

And his power rose to levels, he himself had not experienced before. His body expelled a mist of frost. The earth around him was covered in shards of condensed moisture. He reflected light with the thin film of flexible Ice that now covered all of his exposed body.

The Ornaments Of the Sunken Island clung to his body, a majestic display of long-forgotten power.

The inheritance armor color of deep amber clung to his body, and the chest piece reformed instantly, gouging out flesh on its way out of his chest. It connected to the bronze shoulder guards and vambraces that had hazy blue sapphires embedded in it. Together with the blade, the artifacts CLICKED, they locked in a power almost forgotten and embedded it into Klaus. Temporarily, his to use.

Barely one of 9 of the gates activated, the vessel not being enough to channel more. Yet enough to bring havoc and destruction to the old world.

Both looked upon each other and met their gaze.

They met their match.

The Chaos Born released a howl so powerful and concentrated with the power it silenced all the surroundings, as the cone of flame escaped its mouth all went quiet for a moment, after a second, the breath of fire focused into a jet stream and a deafening sound escaped into surroundings, distorted by rippling air. It was cataclysmic, it shook the air slamming into all that would listen. It was undiscribable. The agony the noise carried was too much to put into words.

All of its surface was set ablaze, only the Eyes remained completely Void of Light, the contrast making them even more disturbing, depthless. The Heart was Tainted, still, the Void was greedily drinking from the spring of power, yet right now it was overshadowed by the immense outburst of magical energies that engulfed the muscled creature, standing over 3 meters tall, tense and vibrating with untamed powers.

The tongues of blaze flickered all across the body, eating away at the skin, revealing the clenched muscle tissue that was dripping with magma-like, hot drops of blood. The Void infection is less visible yet still present, digging into the flesh with vengeance, trying to consume the onslaught of rapidly regenerating nerves and meat.

It was torment.

The creature shoots forward with its weapon, the blade compact, rigid, and ready to pierce. The edge peeled away at the earth, centimeters away from it. Flakes of stone rose as it slashed above it.

The Bone Sword extended, like a stream of a river it twisted and changed, circling the man and ejecting to pierce Klaus. He hastily blocked with his sword, his erected dome of permafrost being shattered on contact. As the blades touched, he felt the might of the thrust, and that might took him off his feet.

Launching him backward, Klaus had to block using both his arms to push his own blade away, as the radiating heat tip of his opponent's sword tried to pierce through the atlantian steel and puncture his heart. He smashed into a building, the wall collapsing into dust. The whip was pulled through, the end of it obscured in the smoke. Something pulled, and Luke had to brace with both of his legs and Telekinesis poles against the ground which was quickly turning into molten slag. Heated to the state of bubbling he barely managed to hold on as the taught sword suddenly became loose, and from the cloud of dust at the end of it erupted a motorcycle-sized Lance of Ice.

I traveled faster than his sword could retract, he swung his right hand behind him to quicken the draw and try to deflect the projectile but it barely managed to crack some of it. At the same time he raised his prosthetic and cushioned it with as much mana and telekinesis pads as he could draw upon.

A flower of steam bloomed amidst the sounds of cracking and hissing ice. It collided with him like a truck, railroading him tens of meters backward. His chest and lungs squeezed from impact. Digging two deep furrows in the place where he stood his ground.

His prosthetic glistened under the flicker of flames, and the empty spots in the fingertips ignited with pure white, the air screamed as the 5 torches that adorned his claws swung upward and raptured the Ice Lance into hundreds of pieces.

Another 2 Lances arrived, one after another, his sword now compact, with some trouble, he managed to deflect them to the sides. Without a second of thought he loosened the Blades, them multiplying as he started rotating the handle around his body. The Whip was swung overhead, the sound of rattling bones and strained leather resounded as it elongated and suddenly, crushed downwards into the collapsing building.

Just a moment before impact, a blur of Azure shot out from the dust. Both arms on the Atlantian Blade, shining so Royaly, he executed his Sword Art, Tidal Wave. What followed the upward slash was a raging wave of crackling, fluid ice crystals that came at Luke, freezing everything in its path.

With a flick of a wrist, he redirected his bone blade, it honed on Klaus's back and managed to scrape him along the back of his armor. Leaving scratch marks on the metal.

To dodge the wave he slammed himself with power absorbed from his surroundings, all movement halting as he siphoned whatever weight and movement he could reach and released it into his left side, shooting to the right, barely managing to dodge the wave.

Already, tens of Snow Bullets were flying at him, exploding on his body, and making his whole stature rattle. He increased the output of his heart.

THRUM!

The surroundings ignited. He braved the onslaught of the projectiles as he tracked Klaus's movement. Again, retracting the blade it came back to him with enough force to slam his own body backwards a step. Without a pause, he let it rip from his left side, at an angle, shaving off earth as it traveled to meet Klaus. Metal light poles posed no resistance as they passed through.

The blade managed to hook onto Klaus, not able to fully wrap around his barrier, it dug into it. With another flick of the wrist the man was lifted into the air, like a soccer ball kicked upwards, he was raised to the height of a 3rd story on a building. He could see his own reflection in the cracked window glass as he tried to channel another spell to counterattack.

Luke retracted the blade, hunched down and his thighs swelled double their size. The heat coming off his body focused behind him and the whistling of burning air intensified. Like a spring released, he exploded forward. In a blink of an eye, he reached his target and swung.

The memories of training with Stitcher ignited in his mind. He never could replicate the SLASH, what he did, was that he paved the road into his own Cleave.

With enough might to topple trees, he swung the blade from behind, it created a crescent moon shape circling him from the right and impacted Klaus with force unthinkable. The surrounding reality shook as the blade crushed and cut through the idea of the world itself.

The blade was wobbling, barely holding up under the strain of the will that was imposed on it. Bone segments scraping against each other.

Luke's face twisted as all the muscles were stretched to the limits, eyes wide open like a maniac, his teeth laid bare as he screamed into the wind.

“ ERASURE OF SIN!”

The blade, infused with the concept of CLEAVE itself, smashed through the barriers and armor as if it were paper, effortlessly digging into flesh. Meshing Klaus's insides into a paste, stopping on his spine as his tissue bubbled and cauterized from the touch of the charred edge.

Klaus's body became a blur as it shot into the road, leaving a deep imprint in the earth as it dug its way through asphalt. Blood splurted from the open gash that took the place of his missing flesh.

Without a pause, Luke spun in the air, propelled by the roaring jets of fire, he allowed the blade to lengthen, and it followed his movement. A spiral surrounded him as he changed his trajectory.

Straining his will, mind, and powers he called upon the Cleave again, he swung the handle overhead and the whip followed. Rattling and shaking loudly like dice clacking against each other it followed the trail, and the blade rained down on Klaus's unprepared body.

“ HEAVEN BREAKER” Luke screamed as veins burst on his temples and muscles tore on his body. His declaration stretches apart reality.

The blade splits the air and earth apart, an unstoppable force drawing power from a concept of reality itself. The road it took across the sky became marred by damage to the fabric of being itself, shredded on the edges, split apart with violence and force.

“Die Glocke!” Klaus responded in panic as he faced death seconds away. A transparent bell of bronze manifested around him and resonated on impact with the Tool of Slaughter. Air shook in the aftermath as defeating sound reverberated. Another talisman burned out. The Relic of the Nazi technology managed to rebound all the damage onto the Chaos Spawn, it threw up blood that melted stone on contact.

His body contracted as torsions and agony clenched each and every muscle. As the blade became compact once again, he moved without thought. With the air igniting behind him like a cloak of radiance, he shot downwards like an artillery shell. Cleaving into Klaus with all his might. Rock crumbled under that collision, and plums of dust escaped from the fissures in the earth.

Klaus was brought to his knees, both arms visibly shaking as he supported his sword in defense from the blow. The radiating effect of Cleave chipping away at his flesh and armor alike. Drowned in a suffocating feeling of imminent death.

Luke's body was shaking, hanging in the air above his oppressor. It vibrated from the thrust of the flames and the power his arm exerted on the blade. The prosthetic was left free. It was time for it to add some damage. Luke circled it around the arch of the shoulder blade and drove it downwards, wrist hitting the edge, both made of bone, shards of them shooting away like a frag granade.

Klaus managed to free his hand and grab Luke by the wrist, barely stopping him from taking his eye out. The eye was getting cloudy, almost boiling from the heat under it. The wound above it started seeping blood, unnaturally dark blood, the same wound that would not close up no matter what healing was tried, the one tainted with Void.

The drops started tainting his eyes, making the whites turn darker shade by shade.

Klaus was consumed by panic, he channeled all the power he could spare into the matrix of his damaged armor and all the remaining crystals broke apart as the ultimate spell was summoned.

“Devouring Blizzard!” he screamed with high-pitched tones tainted by pain and terror. A wall of white erupted, the bronze armor itself turning into razor-sharp flakes and multiplying rapidly. The wind howled as a blast bubble pushed Luke backward, sending him into a roll through the air. Like a leaf blown in the wind, he tumbled tens of meters before managing to use his sword as a hook to ground himself. His burning body slammed against the ground. What followed him was an onslaught of cold.

The Blizzard came from all sides, blinding him as small, razor-sharp snowflakes coated every inch of space, suffused with the power of Arctic Cold, they slammed against the heat barrier his body emitted. The air wobbled as it sizzled, the moisture expanded and collapsed.

Luke started to whip the blade around his body, circle after circle it surrounded him with extending segments of bone blades. It radiated heat as it cracked from the outpour of power. As if a blazing snake, it coiled and whipped in the air, slashing away at the blizzard, two fields of dominion contesting for power.

Klaus could not keep this up, the strain was too much on his core. He never experienced such a dire situation before, never was he in so much danger. All of his training was always in a controlled environment, against beasts weaker than him. Never did he lose so much mana, the drain from the healing, the battles in the real, it was all catching up to him. And he was terrified.

He forced the spell matrix to end with one huge push of all the remaining power that it held. The air turned still for a moment, sparkling snowflakes hung in the air like a picture of beauty. Then they enlarged, started spinning rapidly, and shot all at once, on a straight trajectory into Luke.

They slammed into his body. Crushed it. Compressed it. Cut it. Brought him to his knees.

The Bone Sword flailed around as it cut through the snowstorm to come tighter around Luke's body.

It made little difference.

Klaus was about to turn his back and escape as the now smoking body of Luke, with flickering embers being assaulted by the cold, extended his arm holding the sword in his direction.

“ORCHARD OF THORNS...” and the sword erupted with intense force and speed. The jagged segments of blades raptured and shot out in a cone-like shotgun blast. They impacted anything in their path, charred bone and sinew lodged tightly into every piece of the road, the buildings, the cars that surrounded Klaus, and even into his own body.

Only the handle remained in Luke's hand. The spine segments were losing their vibrant color, the hip guard ended on flayed flesh pieces and one short, cracked blade segment.

“BLOOM!” Luke screamed as the Ice shards cut his tongue getting inside his mouth. With the command, the shards shook, and vibrated. With the noise of cracking joints, the shards elongated rapidly, swelling in size, branching out to create a forest of spikes that impaled into Klaus Piercing the skin and filling out every inch of space surrounding him with shining needles of different sizes. All pulsing erratically, disrupting his escape attempts.

Once the caster became distracted, the blizzard intensity lessened. Enough relief to allow Lucas for his final trump card. All he had left in him channeled into the spell matrix he knew from before, and under the Chaos influence it developed and evolved.

Burza Iskier started charging the air with electricity, small bolts streaking between the last of the ice flakes in the air surrounding him. The lights in the homes and street lights started blinking, and overcharged, they exploded sending more and more energy towards Luke. His body became a lightning rod and a generator, his chest shone even brighter, and with each THUMP the smell of ozone became stronger. The sparks and flashes intensified as they crawled all around his body.

He braced himself in a sprinters starting position, and took a deep breath. Fingers digging into the earth, shakily, yet with muscles tense. His whole body was smoking and flickering with flames that ate away at his flesh.

The pulsing power zapped along his throat and into his blood-filled mouth, replacing it with brilliance. His throat and then mouth lit up, and defeaning sounds of zapping electricity filled his ears.

He gazed at Klaus, maniacly trying to free himself. He was making progress, the flakes of bone were cracking, and he only needed a bit more time.

He didn't even have seconds left.

With all the vengeance he could summon up, he released the plasma boiling from within. All sound stopped for a moment, and blinding light erupted from Luke's mouth, making his skull visible through the flesh laid on his skeleton. His jaw was unhinged, tendons snapping and teeth cracking from high temperatures, exploding in his jaw.

“OSTATNIE TCHNIENIE!” (“THE LAST BREATH!”)