Chapter 106: Murder Is A Habit [IV]
Klaus didn’t panic.
He didn’t try to overpower the massive lightning strike with his own brute force... Time seemed to slow down to a crawl as Klaus’s dark eyes tracked the descending blade...
The ingrained knowledge of the Tier 5 Swordsmanship Manual he had absorbed long ago flared to life in his muscle memory.
He didn’t have to think about the technique; he simply possessed the mathematical understanding of every basic sword style in existence.
He saw the microscopic flaw in Varhem’s footwork. He saw the slight overextension of the noble’s right shoulder which was a consequence of channeling too much magic and neglecting his physical form.
He shifted his weight perfectly, pivoting his front foot a fraction of an inch, and stepped smoothly inside Varhem’s guard just as the crackling blade came crashing down.
The lethal lightning sword missed Klaus’s shoulder by a millimeter, burying itself deep into the frozen earth.
BOOM!
The ground erupted in a shower of electricity and dirt, completely missing its target.
Varhem’s eyes widened in paralyzing horror as he realized his ultimate strike had hit nothing but air, leaving his entire torso completely exposed...
Klaus stood perfectly positioned, his iron sword held low coated in brilliant white Soul Mana.
He didn’t hesitate and he didn’t show mercy.
Klaus thrust his iron sword directly into the vulnerable gap in Varhem’s silver armor, right below the breastplate.
SHLUCK!
The cheap iron blade, reinforced by the Soul King’s magic, pierced effortlessly through the chainmail, the thick padding and plunged deep into Varhem’s stomach.
Klaus didn’t stop there. With a vicious, guttural grunt, he twisted his wrists and ripped the blade violently upward.
SQUELCH!
The blade tore through Varhem’s internal organs, snapping his lower ribs and carving a massive, jagged ruin up the center of his torso.
Hot blood, mixed with the ruined remnants of his intestines, spilled out over Klaus’s hands and splashed onto the frozen snow.
Klaus ripped his sword free and took a step back, letting the Soul Mana fade from his blade.
Lord Varhem stood frozen for a second with his blue eyes turning wide, staring blankly at the massive fatal wound in his stomach.
The crackling lightning blade slipped from his numb fingers, clattering uselessly against the ice as Varhem’s knees buckled.
He collapsed heavily into the snow, dropping to his knees.
He weakly raised his hands, clutching desperately at his ruined stomach, trying in vain to hold his spilling intestines inside his body.
Hot blood poured through his trembling fingers, pooling rapidly in the white snow.
The Lightning Spirit, sensing its master’s imminent death, buzzed nervously in the air. It didn’t try to attack Klaus as it just hovered a few feet away with its electrical output dimming significantly.
Varhem coughed with a thick splatter of blood painting his chin.
The arrogance, the pristine nobility, the overwhelming superiority he had carried his entire life was completely gone.
He was just a dying man bleeding out in the dirt.
The man slowly agonizingly raised his head to look at Klaus.
Klaus stood over him, perfectly relaxed with his bloody sword resting casually at his side.
"Why..." Varhem gasped as his once booming voice became a weak wet rattle in his throat.
He coughed again, his blue eyes filled with genuine uncomprehending confusion. "Why... did you attack us? Who... who sent you? What did we do to you?"
Varhem needed an answer.
He needed to know that his death had meaning... He needed to know if it was a political assassination, a rival noble house, or a calculated military strike...
Klaus looked down at the dying noble as he tilted his head slightly.
"For no reason, really," Klaus smiled cheerfully.
The words hit Varhem harder than the sword strike.
There was no grand conspiracy...There was no political revenge... This boy had slaughtered his entire elite unit, butchered his medics, and gutted him like a pig in the snow, simply because he was there.
He had destroyed a high noble’s life on a whim.
Varhem let out a weak broken laugh with blood bubbled past his lips, dripping down his silver armor.
He stared into Klaus’s empty eyes and he finally understood exactly what he was looking at.
"What a monster you are..." Varhem whispered with his voice fading into the freezing wind.
Varhem’s head slumped forward, his chin resting against his bloody chest. The light faded entirely from his silver eyes, and the High Noble of the Capital died kneeling in the snow.
Klaus didn’t feel a shred of pity and he didn’t feel triumphant.
He stepped forward, reaching his blood-stained hand out to touch the noble’s ruined silver armor.
[Target Soul Harvested: Tier 4 Mana Swordsman] T
he soul of Lord Varhem was ripped from his corpse, banished into the dark silent depths of the Soul King’s domain forever.
"Beautifully done, My King!" Valeria cheered, flying down to sit on the dead noble’s shoulder. "That was a very tasty soul!"
Klaus ignored the cheering woman. He turned his attention away from the corpse with his dark eyes locking directly onto the trembling erratic orb of blue electricity hovering nearby.
The Lightning Spirit... It was time to claim his loot.
The blizzard continued to howl over the ruined palisade walls of Lord Varhem’s forward operating base, completely indifferent to the massacre that had just taken place.
Klaus stood in the center of the snowy courtyard, surrounded by the bisected, scorched, and mutilated corpses of over thirty elite soldiers.
The dark rich blood of the man’s finest warriors was rapidly freezing into the white snow, turning the ground into a horrific slick mosaic of crimson and gray.
The spirit was erratic and buzzing aggressively in the freezing air. Small, jagged tendrils of blue lightning lashed out from its core, scorching the snow.
Without Lord Varhem’s mana to anchor it, the elemental entity was reverting to its wild natural state. It recognized Klaus as the man who had murdered its previous master, and it didn’t like him.
The Spirit darted backward, preparing to flee into the storm.
"Oh no, you don’t," Klaus muttered. "You belong to me now."
He didn’t try to catch it with his bare hands since he knew elemental spirits were notoriously difficult to bind without specific magical affinities.
Instead, he mentally summoned the system interface, pulling up the lingering soul profile of the man he had just gutted.
[Target Soul: Tier 4 Mana Swordsman (Lord Varhem)]
[Please select ONE of the following Skills to extract:]
[Lightning Blade Arts] - Infuses a bladed weapon with high-voltage electricity, drastically increasing cutting power and paralyzing enemies on contact.
[Mana Step] - A high-speed movement technique that utilizes bursts of mana to instantaneously close short distances.
[Spirit Affinity] - A rare passive trait that aligns the host’s mana frequency with elemental beings, allowing the subjugation, communication, and commanding of elemental spirits.
Klaus didn’t even glance at the first two options, despite how incredibly powerful they were... He already had his own swordsmanship and speed. He needed the utility and he needed the loot.
"System," Klaus commanded mentally. "Swap out Thermal Perception and equip Spirit Affinity..."
He didn’t need Thermal Perception anymore. If he successfully bound the Lightning Spirit, the entity could act as a radar for him, sensing ambient mana and movement in the environment.
[Skill: Thermal Perception has been permanently discarded.]
[Skill Selected: Spirit Affinity. Extracting...]
The brilliant blue interface shattered into a cloud of glowing, azure particles. The light swirled through the freezing wind and slammed directly into Klaus’s chest.
The transition wasn’t a soothing wash of warmth or a burst of healing energy. It felt like a massive invasive rewiring of his very soul. Klaus gritted his teeth as his jaw muscles bulging as an intense frequency went through his veins.
His mana pathways forcibly expanded, mutating to accommodate the strange resonant wavelength required to communicate with ethereal beings.
The process took less than three seconds, but when Klaus opened his eyes, the world looked slightly different.
He didn’t just see the crackling blue orb of the Lightning Spirit anymore... He saw the intricate, swirling currents of pure elemental mana binding it together.
He could literally feel its raw chaotic emotions... anger, confusion, and a desperate urge to escape and the Spirit tried to fly upward, aiming for the gray clouds.
Klaus raised his left hand with his fingers spread wide, and channeled his newly acquired affinity.
"Come here," Klaus ordered.
His voice didn’t just carry through the air; it resonated directly into the Spirit’s core as a visible, translucent tether of white Soul Mana erupted from Klaus’s palm, shooting through the air and wrapping tightly around the crackling orb like a glowing lasso.
The Lightning Spirit shrieked which was a high-pitched static-filled sound that grated against the inside of Klaus’s skull as it fought back violently.
ZZZAP! CRACKLE!
A thick blinding bolt of blue lightning shot down the tether, striking Klaus directly in the palm. The raw electricity surged up his arm, tearing through his dark combat shirt and singing his skin.
Klaus didn’t flinch.
The Rapid Cellular Mend skill he had just stolen from the camp’s Healer activated instantly. The scorched flesh on his palm and forearm knit back together, glowing with a soothing emerald light, healing the burns faster than the Spirit could inflict them.
Klaus yanked his arm back, physically dragging the struggling elemental entity out of the sky.
"I am not asking," Klaus stated, his dark eyes entirely devoid of mercy.
He flooded the tether with the crushing, overwhelming gravity of his Soul Mana, forcing the entity to its metaphorical knees. "Submit."
The battle of wills lasted only a few seconds. The Spirit was exhausted from the fight with Varhem, and it simply couldn’t compete with the raw bottomless density of the Soul King’s mana.
The chaotic jagged tendrils of lightning slowly retracted.
The angry buzzing quieted down into a low subservient hum as the Spirit stopped pulling away and floated down, hovering obediently just over Klaus’s right shoulder.
It hated him. Klaus could feel the deep simmering resentment radiating from the orb but it was bound to his will entirely.
It had no choice but to serve.
"Aww, it’s so cute!" Chibi Valeria cheered, materializing on his other shoulder. She reached out and poked the crackling blue orb.
The Spirit sparked aggressively at her, but Valeria just giggled. "You are gathering quite the collection of stolen toys, My King! This little spark plug will be very useful!"
"Keep an eye out for enemies," Klaus commanded the Spirit, ignoring the woman. The blue orb bobbed once in acknowledgment, its light dimming to a stealthy glow.
With the immediate threats neutralized, Klaus turned his attention back to the massive wooden gates.
"Mirela!" Klaus yelle. "It’s clear! Come inside!"
A few moments later, the smaller figure of the goat-eared girl appeared in the ruined archway of the gates.
She was practically drowning in Klaus’s heavy, oversized winter coat, shivering violently as the supernatural cold of the Winterlands continued to sap her body heat.
Mirela stepped into the courtyard, and she immediately froze.
Her wide terrified eyes swept over the carnage. The snow was painted in broad, gruesome strokes of crimson.
She saw elite guards with their heads missing, knights crushed under their own armor, and the bisected, gutted remains of Lord Varhem lying in a massive pool of his own internal organs.
It looked like a natural disaster had swept through the camp, not a single man with an iron sword.
Mirela felt her stomach churn.
The sickening scent of hot blood was suffocating but she forced herself to swallow the bile rising in her throat. She gripped the wooden shaft of her moon-crystal staff tightly and forced her legs to move.
She stepped carefully over a severed arm, keeping her gaze locked firmly onto the broad back of her Master.
He was standing over the dead noble, entirely unbothered by the gore surrounding him.
He was a monster, yes, but he was her monster and right now, standing next to him was the only way she was going to survive this frozen hell.
She also needed to calm him down... somehow... He needed to come back to her... to them...
Klaus knelt in the bloody snow next to Varhem’s corpse.
He didn’t bother taking the silver armor; it was too bulky, and the crest would draw unwanted attention.
He didn’t take the lightning-infused longsword either, as it required a specific mana signature to wield effectively.
Instead, Klaus searched the dead man’s pockets.
He pulled a heavy pouch of gold coins from Varhem’s belt and tossed it into his own spatial ring then, he noticed a magical glimmer coming from the noble’s right hand.
Klaus grabbed Varhem’s cold dead fingers and forcefully yanked a pristine, silver band off his index finger.
The ring was beautifully crafted, inset with a flawless teardrop-shaped blue sapphire that radiated a very distinct, gentle warmth.
Klaus held the ring up to his face and focused his mana onto the object.
[Ding!]
A semi-transparent item tab materialized in the air.
「Item: Ring of the Winter Lord」
「Tier: 3」
「Description: A magical band forged in the heart of a dying frost elemental. It completely nullifies extreme cold, sub-zero temperatures, and environmental freezing effects for the wearer. The ring automatically regulates internal body temperature, rendering heavy winter clothing entirely obsolete.」
Klaus’s smile softened into a look of genuine satisfaction.
"Now that is a good drop," Klaus murmured. He didn’t need it, not with his Frostblood Aura, but it solved his biggest logistical problem perfectly.
He stood up and turned around just as Mirela reached his side.
The demi-human girl was shivering so violently that her teeth were audibly chattering.
Her goat ears were pressed flat against her head, and her lips had turned a terrifying shade of pale blue.
The magical frost of the Winterlands was bypassing the heavy coat entirely, slowly freezing her internal organs.
"M-Master," Mirela stuttered with her voice incredibly weak. "T-the camp is secure?"
Klaus didn’t answer right away. He stepped right into her personal space. He reached out, grabbed the lapels of his heavy winter coat that was draped over her shoulders, and smoothly pulled the garment off her.
Mirela gasped in panic.
The exact second the coat was removed, the biting, malicious wind of the blizzard slammed directly into her thin maid outfit.
The cold was agonizing. It felt like a thousand tiny knives piercing her skin all at once. Her eyes widened with tears instantly springing to her eyes as she thought her Master was abandoning her to die in the snow.
But Klaus didn’t step back.
He reached out with his left hand, gently but firmly grabbing her trembling left wrist. He pulled her hand up, his thumb brushing against her freezing knuckles.
Before Mirela could ask what he was doing, Klaus took the pristine silver band he had looted from the dead noble and slid it smoothly onto her ring finger.
The effect was instantaneous.
VWOOM!
An invisible pulse of warm soothing energy radiated outward from the blue sapphire. The magical barrier snapped into place, enveloping Mirela’s entire body from head to toe.
The agonizing, biting wind suddenly felt like a gentle warm summer breeze.
The deep, painful ache in her bones vanished entirely, replaced by a perfectly regulated, comfortable internal heat. The freezing snow falling on her bare arms melted harmlessly, feeling like warm raindrops.
Mirela stopped shivering completely. Her blue lips rapidly regained their natural, healthy pink color as she let out a long, shuddering gasp of relief with her tense muscles finally relaxing.
She looked down at her left hand. The silver ring fit her perfectly, the blue sapphire shining brightly against her skin.
Then, her brain processed exactly which finger Klaus had just placed the beautiful expensive ring on.
A furious bright red blush exploded across Mirela’s cheeks, traveling all the way up to the tips of her goat ears.
Her heart, which had been beating slowly from the cold, suddenly hammered against her ribs like a runaway carriage.
In her culture, and in human culture, placing a ring on that specific finger carried a very heavy... very permanent implication.
She looked up at Klaus with, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly as she tried to form a sentence.
"M-Master?" Mirela squeaked, her face burning hotter than the magic ring. "Y-you put it on my... I mean... this is..."
Klaus didn’t seem to notice the romantic implications of his actions or, if he did, he didn’t care.
She was his responsibility.
Klaus took a step forward, closing the remaining distance between them, and pulled the flustered girl into a firm tight hug.
Mirela froze, her hands hovering awkwardly in the air.
Klaus’s chest was hard, his body radiating the intense, unnatural heat of his Beast’s Vitality.
He had just slaughtered thirty men without blinking, and yet, wrapped in his arms, Mirela had never felt safer in her entire life...
She slowly lowered her arms, wrapping them around his waist, and buried her face against his chest.
"You don’t need to worry anymore," Klaus told her. He rested his chin gently on the top of her siver hair. "I brought you into this hellhole... I am not going to let you freeze to death. As long as you stay by my side, I will protect you from everything in this place. Understood?"
Mirela’s chest tightened with overwhelming emotion.
The terror of the massacre faded into the background, completely eclipsed by the absolute certainty in his voice.
He wasn’t lying...
"Yes, Master," Mirela whispered against his shirt, her blush deepening. "I will never leave your side."
