Chapter 107: The Endless Tower
Klaus pulled back from the hug, giving her a brief satisfied nod.
The tender moment ended as quickly as it had begun with his dark eyes glowing a bit as he scanned the captured operating base.
"Alright," Klaus said, clapping his hands together once. "We have a lot of work to do... Let’s loot this place."
Mirela nodded eagerly with the magic ring making her feel completely invincible to the environment.
They spent the next hour stripping the forward operating base of anything valuable.
Klaus was incredibly thorough, acting like a player trying to maximize their inventory capacity before leaving a zone.
They hit the armory first.
Klaus bypassed the standard iron and steel weaponry, dumping the cheap blades into the snow. He only gathered the high-tier, enchanted weapons.
He tossed a dozen high-carbon steel broadswords, a stack of magical crossbow bolts, and three pristine mythril daggers into his spatial ring.
He could sell them for a small fortune if they ever made it back to civilization... since he was still trying to build funds.
Next was the pantry. Lord Varhem hadn’t intended on roughing it in the Winterlands as the noble had packed like a king.
Mirela gasped in delight as they opened the heavy wooden crates inside the supply tent.
Instead of the hard travel rations they were meant to buy, the crates were packed with heavily cured venison, thick slabs of salted pork, imported dwarven spices, fresh root vegetables preserved in magical stasis, and small casks of high-quality ale and clean water.
It made Klaus wonder if they even need the original supplies.
"Pack all of it..." Klaus ordered, tossing a heavy sack of flour over his shoulder. They hauled the food out into the courtyard, piling it near the center of the camp.
"Master," Mirela called out, standing near the back of the base where a large, reinforced canvas tarp was draped over a massive object. "I think you need to see this."
Klaus walked over. He grabbed the edge of the heavy tarp and pulled it back, exposing the vehicle hidden underneath.
It was a Snow Caravan.
It wasn’t a standard open-air wooden carriage like the one Klaus had stolen in the outpost.
This was a massive, heavily armored mobile fortress designed specifically for deep-snow traversal.
The hull was constructed from thick, insulated ironwood, plated with sheets of dark steel.
Instead of standard wooden wheels, the Caravan rested on four massive, rotating treads lined with sharp iron spikes designed to crush ice and grip the frozen earth.
The interior cabin was fully enclosed, featuring thick reinforced glass windows, plush velvet seating, and a large magical heating furnace built directly into the floorboards.
Hitched to the front of the Caravan, resting calmly in a specially designed heated stable area, were two massive Armored Dire-Bears.
The beasts were easily the size of small houses, covered in thick white fur and fitted with heavy steel pulling harnesses.
"Well," Klaus smiled, running his hand along the dark steel hull of the vehicle. "It seems Lord Varhem was kind enough to upgrade our ride... This is exactly what we need to cross the deep snow."
"It’s beautiful," Mirela admired, looking through the reinforced glass at the plush interior. "It must have cost a fortune."
"And now it’s free," Klaus said practically.
They spent another thirty minutes loading all the looted weapons, the high-quality food, and the remaining survival supplies into the spacious cargo hold of the Snow Caravan.
Once everything was secure, Klaus climbed up into the elevated driver’s seat, which was also fully enclosed in glass to protect the driver from the wind.
Mirela climbed into the passenger seat next to him, marveling at the comfortable leather cushions.
Klaus inspected the control panel.
It wasn’t standard reins... It was a series of magical levers and pedals designed to command the massive Dire-Bears through a psychic link built into the dashboard.
Klaus placed his hands on the primary steering levers and pushed forward.
ROAR!
The two massive Armored Dire-Bears let out a deafening, earth-shaking roar. They lunged forward, the heavy iron-spiked treads of the Caravan biting into the frozen ground.
The massive vehicle lurched into motion, effortlessly crushing a wooden weapon rack beneath its tracks as Klaus steered it out of the ruined gates of the forward base.
"Where are we going first, Master?" Mirela asked, looking out the reinforced window at the bloody camp fading into the distance.
"We are heading back to our first wreck..." Klaus replied, expertly navigating the massive vehicle down the snowy valley. "We still have supplies in that carriage and I’m not leaving anything behind."
The drive back was incredibly smooth.
The spiked treads of the Snow Caravan ignored the deep snowdrifts and jagged ice spikes entirely, rolling over the hostile terrain like a moving mountain.
The Lightning Spirit hovered lazily outside the windshield, occasionally zapping a stray Frost Wolf that got too close to the tracks.
It took them less than twenty minutes to reach the site of their crash landing.
Klaus brought the Caravan to a halt next to the shattered, splintered remains of the outpost carriage.
The dead dire-horses were already frozen solid, covered in a fresh layer of snow.
Klaus and Mirela stepped out of the warm cabin.
Thanks to the Ring of the Winter Lord and the Frostblood Aura, neither of them felt the biting chill of the blizzard.
They walked over to the wreckage, pulling out the remaining supplies that had survived the crash.
"Is that everything?" Klaus asked, tossing the final satchel into the back of the Caravan.
"Yes, Master," Mirela nodded, dusting the snow off her hands. "We are completely stocked."
"Good," Klaus said, turning his head to look out over the desolate freezing wasteland. "Now... where exactly are we supposed to go?"
He had entered the Haunted Winterlands on a whim driven by the urge to look for better skills and distance himself from the memory of Sylvia while also aiming to reach that Shinigami but he didn’t actually have a destination in mind.
Before Klaus could ask his system for a map, the environment answered for him.
The howling violent winds of the blizzard, which had been blowing relentlessly since they arrived suddenly stopped.
It wasn’t a gradual fade. It was an instantaneous silence that felt heavier than the storm itself.
The thick, swirling gray clouds and the blinding sheets of falling snow directly in front of them began to part, peeling away like massive curtains being drawn back on a stage.
Mirela gasped, taking a step closer to Klaus.
In the far distance, revealed by the parting storm, stood a structure that defied all logic and reason.
It was a massive monolithic tower constructed entirely of pitch-black, light-absorbing obsidian.
The base of the tower was miles wide, and it stretched infinitely upward, piercing straight through the bruised, iron-gray clouds and disappearing into the upper atmosphere.
The air around the tower was visibly distorted, rippling with intense, sickening waves of purple spatial energy that made the very space around it look warped and bent.
It was a monument of terrifying power as it looked like a spear thrust into the heart of the world.
"There!" Chibi Valeria shrieked, popping into existence and landing on the hood of the Snow Caravan.
She pointed her tiny finger frantically at the black monolith. "That is it, My King! That is where we need to go!"
Klaus stared at the impossible structure, feeling a strange way deep within his own Soul.
’What is that?’
"That is the Endless Tower," Valeria explained with her tiny voice dropping into a solemn whisper. "It is the exact location where the former Soul King... where your predecessor... fought his final battle and died."
Klaus’s dark eyes narrowed. That’s right... everything was leading to this specific point on the map.
"Well," Klaus murmured with a smirk curling his lips as he cracked his knuckles. "Let’s go pay our respects."
He turned on his heel, grabbed Mirela’s hand, and pulled her back into the warmth of the Snow Caravan.
It was time to drive into the heart of the nightmare.
...
A full week had passed since they breached the portal.
For seven uninterrupted days and nights, the Haunted Winterlands had thrown everything it had at the encroaching Snow Caravan.
Blizzards so thick they turned the world into a featureless white void. Hailstorms with chunks of ice the size of cannonballs and temperatures so unnaturally low that the ambient moisture in the air simply froze and shattered like glass.
But inside the heavily armored, velvet-lined cabin of Lord Varhem’s stolen transport, it felt like a mild summer evening.
The magical heating furnace built into the reinforced floorboards glowed with a steady comforting vibration.
The thick ironwood and steel-plated hull completely insulated them from the howling, demonic winds outside.
Klaus sat casually in the plush, oversized backseat with his long legs stretched out in front of him.
He wasn’t wearing his heavy winter coat... he hadn’t needed it since extracting the Frostblood Aura and was dressed simply in his dark combat shirt and trousers.
He rested his elbow on the velvet armrest, his dark eyes watching the chaotic blur of the storm raging beyond the reinforced glass window.
He didn’t have to drive.
The psychic steering matrix built into the dashboard allowed him to command the two massive Armored Dire-Bears remotely, feeding them a steady trickle of his boundless Soul Mana to keep them marching endlessly through the deep snow.
KZZZT! CRACK!
A blinding flash of blue light illuminated the dark storm outside the window, followed immediately by the booming crack of thunder.
Klaus didn’t flinch... He watched as the shattered, smoking remains of a Tier 3 Ice Golem collapsed into the snowdrifts beside the Caravan’s spiked treads.
Hovering just outside the moving vehicle, tethered to Klaus’s will through his Spirit Affinity, the enslaved Lightning Spirit darted through the blizzard.
It was acting as an automated high-voltage turret. Whenever a Corrupted Frost Wolf, a wandering Ice Golem, or a flock of Razor-Bats got within fifty yards of the Caravan, the Spirit mercilessly blasted them into ash and melted slag.
It hated Klaus but it hated being punished by the crushing gravity of his Soul Mana even more so, it did its job perfectly.
"Master, open..." a soft, melodious voice pulled Klaus’s attention away from the window.
Mirela was sitting sideways on the velvet seat right next to him. She was holding a small silver fork, delicately balancing a perfectly seared piece of high-grade salted venison and a roasted root vegetable.
Klaus turned his head, opened his mouth and let her feed him.
He chewed slowly with the rich, savory spices from the noble’s stolen stash bursting across his tongue.
"Good?" Mirela asked as her lips curved into a hopeful eager smile.
"Perfect," Klaus nodded, swallowing the rich food. "Varhem was an arrogant bastard, but the man had incredible taste in provisions."
Mirela giggled softly, turning back to the silver platter resting on her lap to prepare the next bite. She looked completely at peace.
Thanks to the Tier 3 Ring of the Winter Lord resting securely on her left ring finger, she didn’t feel a fraction of the deadly cold outside.
She was safe, she was warm, and she was entirely devoted to taking care of him.
Klaus leaned his head back against the velvet cushions as he reached into his spatial ring and pulled out a small, leather-bound journal.
The book was in terrible condition. The leather cover was warped by extreme frost damage, the parchment pages were stiff and brittle and the edges were heavily stained with dark dried blood. Klaus had looted it from the ruined frozen husk of an ancient carriage they had passed three days ago.
He flipped the book open, staring at the manic, erratic handwriting scrawled across the pages.
"Still reading the dead man’s diary, My King?" Valeria’s tiny voice chimed in.
The Chibi materialized, sitting cross-legged on top of the open journal with her crimson eyes peering down at the text.
’It’s not just a diary,’ Klaus replied internally, his dark eyes scanning the mad ramblings. ’It’s a warning.’
The journal belonged to an unnamed high-tier Mage from the Capital.
According to the entries, the man had dedicated three entire centuries of his magically extended life to reaching the Endless Tower.
He had spent fortunes gathering artifacts, hiring elite mercenaries, and preparing for the Haunted Winterlands and he had died out here, alone, starving, and driven completely insane.
Klaus read a specific passage he had bookmarked:
Day 4,112 in the perimeter.
The black tower mocks me... I can see it... It pierces the clouds right in front of my eyes. But no matter how fast I run, no matter how many spatial jumps I cast, the distance never closes. Space itself is stretched here... It is an infinitely expanding treadmill... The closer you get, the further reality pulls you back... The cold is eating my mind and I can hear Death laughing...
Klaus closed the book with the dry pages snapping shut.
They had been driving directly toward the massive black monolith for a solid week.
The armored Dire-Bears hadn’t stopped moving for seven days and yet, when Klaus looked out the front windshield of the Caravan, the Endless Tower looked exactly the same distance away as it had when the storm first parted.
It was a spatial maze... A continuous looping field of distorted reality designed to trap intruders until they starved or froze to death.
’Any luck finding a crack?’ Klaus asked Valeria.
"I am trying, Master!" Valeria huffed, floating up and crossing her tiny arms in frustration. "The spatial magic woven into this zone is ancient. It belongs to the era of the Old Gods. but magic decays over time, especially without a living caster to maintain it. There are microscopic fissures in the spatial loop. I just need to calculate the exact frequency to slip us through! Give me a little more time!"
’Take your time,’ Klaus replied coldly. ’We have enough food to last two months and the Spirit is handling the mobs. We aren’t in any immediate danger.’
Who cared about the Academy? He just wanted to grow stronger. Klaus let out a long, heavy sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
Despite his physical wounds being healed, and his Beast’s Vitality keeping his stamina high, a deep mental exhaustion was beginning to set in.
He hadn’t slept a single wink in seven days. He had to stay awake to maintain the psychic link with the Dire-Bears, to keep the Lightning Spirit subjugated, and to monitor the perimeter for high-tier threats.
His eyes were bloodshot, and a dull throbbing ache pulsed behind his temples.
Mirela noticed. She set the silver platter of food aside, shifting her weight on the velvet cushions until she was facing him entirely.
"Master," Mirela said, her voice soft and laced with genuine concern. "You look exhausted. Your eyes are completely red. Are you okay going without sleep for this long?"
Klaus forced a casual dismissive smile onto his face as he waved a hand in the air.
"I’m fine, Mirela," Klaus yawned with the physical action betraying his words. "My stats are high enough. I can manage a few more days."
Mirela frowned, her goat horns drooping slightly. She didn’t accept the lie... She reached out, placing her warm, soft hands gently on his shoulders.
"You don’t have to push yourself so hard all the time," Mirela murmured.
She patted the soft velvet cushion right next to her, then patted her own thighs. "The bears know the path. The Spirit is protecting the outside. Please, Master. Just rest for a little bit. You can lay your head here."
She was offering him a lap pillow and Klaus looked at her.
He saw the unconditional devotion shining in her wide eyes and the ring on her left hand caught the glow of the magical furnace, shimmering brightly in the warm cabin.
A week ago, before the letter, he would have felt a surge of deep comforting warmth in his chest at the gesture.
He would have viewed it as a sign of their growing bond but now... he didn’t know what to think.
It was fake... all of it was fake.
"Sure," Klaus sighed, keeping his voice light and breezy.
He shifted his body, sliding down the velvet cushions until he was lying flat on his back. He rested his head directly onto Mirela’s soft warm thighs.
He closed his eyes, letting out a long, slow breath as the tension in his neck immediately began to unravel.
Mirela smiled brightly. She gently began to run her fingers through his dark messy hair. Her touch was incredibly soothing, her nails lightly scratching against his scalp.
For a few minutes, the only sounds in the cabin were the hum of the magical furnace and the muffled crunching of the iron treads outside.
"You know, Master," Mirela whispered softly with her voice barely louder than the hum of the engine.
She kept her eyes focused on his face as her fingers continued their gentle strokes. "You are amazing."
Klaus didn’t open his eyes and he just listened.
"When Taula left... when Zephyra and Serra went back to the Capital... I thought we were going to fall apart," Mirela confessed. "I thought you were going to leave me behind too. Because I am just a weak demi-human... I am not a royal, or a high priestess, or an A-rank warrior."
She paused, taking a shaky breath.
"But you didn’t," she continued with a single tear of pure gratitude slipping down her cheek. "You brought me with you... You gave me this ring to keep me warm... You are killing everything in this wasteland just to make sure I am safe..."
Mirela leaned down slightly with her face hovering just inches above his.
"I know what you are doing out there," Mirela whispered, her tone shifting into a fierce, unbreakable resolve. "I see the blood. I know you are killing people left and right. I know you are becoming a monster to survive but I don’t care. I love you, Master. Even if the whole world turns against you, I will always stay by your side. I will never betray you."
It was a beautiful heartbreaking confession... it was the surrender of a girl who had found her savior in the darkest, bloodiest corners of the world.
Underneath his closed eyelids, Klaus’s dark eyes remained completely dead.
His mind instantly flashed back to a dark bedroom just two weeks ago. He remembered a blond warrior wearing a thin cotton nightgown, gripping her skirt, tears of vulnerability in her green eyes.
’Have I ever left you before? I want to be yours. I promise.’
Klaus didn’t want to admit it but he was traumatized...
