Chapter 110: Anya
He didn’t just stop walking... Klaus’s entire body locked up as he was completely paralyzed.
His lungs stopped drawing air and his heart slammed violently against his ribs, skipping a beat entirely.
He knew that voice...
It was the exact same melodic voice he had heard when he had entered the Soul World for the first time...
The memories, the deep foundational emotional resonance of the previous Soul King... perhaps the first one... flooded into Klaus’s consciousness like a breaking dam.
He didn’t see an NPC... He saw someone who mattered more to the core of his being than life itself.
Klaus let his iron sword slip from his fingers.
CLATTER!
The weapon hit the obsidian floor as it was entirely forgotten.
Klaus let go of Mirela’s hand.
He didn’t look at the goat-eared girl. Instead he walked forward like a man trapped in a trance with his dark eyes locked entirely onto the pale dying Elf woman chained to the stone.
"Master?" Mirela asked as her voice trembled with confusion and rising panic. She reached out to grab him, but she pulled her hand back.
The aura radiating from Klaus right now wasn’t cold or manic... It was overwhelmingly sad.
Klaus stepped up onto the altar.
He fell to his knees beside the emaciated woman. Up close, the damage was even worse. The sickening sound of the purple spatial chains burning her flesh...
Sizzle...! Sizzle...!
Klaus reached his hands out with his fingers hovering frantically over the burning chains. He wanted to rip them off and he wanted to shatter the magic and pull her into his arms.
"Who did this to you?" Klaus whispered.
"It does not matter," the Elf woman smiled weakly as her purple eyes locking onto his dark ones. "You are here. The cycle is complete. I held on... just long enough."
She coughed again, her entire frail body shuddering violently. The movement caused the chains to pull tighter, burning deeper into her wrists and she let out a soft pained whimper.
Klaus stared at the scorch marks on her skin.
For some inexplicable reason, completely defying his own logic... Klaus’s vision blurred.
A single tear escaped the corner of his dark eye. It slid down his cheek and fell, splashing quietly against the cold black stone of the altar.
"Stop talking," Klaus ordered. "Every time you move, the chains burn you. Just hold on. I have a healing skill. I can fix this. I can get you out of here."
He raised his hands, preparing to flood her broken body with the Rapid Cellular Mend he had stolen from the Healer.
The Elf woman slowly shook her head.
"Thank you," she smiled sadly as her purple eyes were filled with an inescapable sorrow. "But I cannot assist you like this, Master. My physical vessel is completely broken as the magic of the Old Gods has consumed my core. Healing me will only prolong the agony."
She shifted her gaze downward, looking at her own flat, emaciated stomach.
"I cannot fight by your side in the wars to come," the Elf woman whispered. "But I can give you my strength. So please... could you touch my stomach?"
Klaus’s hands trembled. He didn’t understand the mechanics of what she was asking, but his soul understood perfectly.
It was a ritual of succession... It was a final sacrifice...
"Don’t do this," Klaus gritted his teeth with his jaw clenching so hard it ached. "I just found you."
"You will never lose me," she promised softly. "Please, Master."
Klaus closed his eyes. He swallowed the massive suffocating lump of grief in his throat.
He slowly lowered his right hand, pressing his palm flat against the cold pale skin of her emaciated stomach.
The reaction was immediate.
VWOOSH!
A blinding, brilliant pillar of pure white Soul Mana erupted from Klaus’s body. It didn’t just siphon a fraction of his energy like the stairs had.
It opened the floodgates. Massive amounts of his raw Soul power poured out of his hand, surging violently into the dying Elf woman’s core.
The sheer force of the magical transfer was agonizing. Klaus let out a low grunt as his own life force was rapidly drained, but he didn’t pull his hand away.
He pushed harder.
The Elf woman’s back arched entirely off the stone altar.
"AHHHH~!" she cried out in a loud echoing moan of immense pain and overwhelming magical saturation filling the cavernous hall.
Her striking purple eyes rolled to the back of her head, exposing the whites.
The dark, burning spatial chains binding her wrists and ankles began to violently crack and splinter under the influx of divine Soul Mana.
Beneath Klaus’s palm, the impossible occurred.
The Elf woman’s flat, starved stomach began to expand rapidly.
It wasn’t an illusion... The physical flesh stretched, growing larger and rounder with terrifying speed, perfectly mimicking the biological process of a full-term, nine-month pregnancy in the span of exactly three seconds.
The blinding white light radiating from her stomach reached a blinding crescendo.
The Elf woman’s head fell back against the obsidian stone.
Her breathing slowed to a sudden halt. She turned her head slightly, her purple eyes returning to focus on Klaus’s face one final time as tears slipped down her pale cheek.
"Thank you," she whispered, her voice fading into the silence of the tower. "Please, Master... take care of our daughter."
The Elf woman closed her eyes.
CRACK! SHATTER!
The ethereal, purple spatial chains completely exploded, turning into harmless dust and then, the Elf woman’s physical body simply gave way.
The magic binding her to the mortal plane dissolved. Her flesh, her bones, and her pale skin instantly turned into a massive pile of fine, gray ash.
Klaus fell forward onto his hands, panting heavily with his heart breaking as the woman crumbled into dust before his eyes.
The cavernous hall of the Endless Tower fell dead silent once more.
"Master..." Mirela whimpered from the base of the altar, taking a cautious step up the stairs.
Klaus didn’t move... he stared at the pile of gray ash resting on the black stone but the ash wasn’t empty.
Resting perfectly in the center of the dust, entirely unharmed and completely naked, was a child.
She looked to be around six years old.
She had long, beautiful, striking silver hair that cascaded down her small back. Her features were a flawless delicate blend of her parentage... she possessed the slightly pointed,elegant ears of a high-elf, but the soft rounded facial structure of a human.
The little girl didn’t cry... She didn’t shiver in the cold air of the tower...
She slowly pushed herself up, sitting on her knees amidst the ashes of her mother.
The child’s eyelids fluttered, and then they snapped open.
Her eyes were a brilliant, luminescent piercing shade of deep amethyst purple. They were the eyes of a Shinigami.
They carried an ancient, unfathomable depth of knowledge that completely betrayed her youthful appearance...
The little girl looked directly into Klaus’s dark tear-stained eyes and she opened her mouth.
"You..." the little girl said, tilting her head slightly. "You are the Soul King."
She reached her small hand out, her tiny fingers brushing gently against Klaus’s cheek.
"And you are my father."
Klaus stared at her.
This child wasn’t an NPC... She wasn’t a programmed string of code or a random loot drop from a monster...
She was born directly from the oceanic surge of his own Soul Mana and she carried his energy in her veins. She was, in every magical and spiritual sense that mattered in this world, his daughter.
"Master!"
The spell of silence was broken by a frantic shout.
Mirela scrambled up the massive stone steps of the altar.
The goat-eared girl was panting heavily and her lips parted in shock as she took in the scene.
She looked at the pile of gray ashes, and then her wide eyes locked onto the naked, silver-haired child sitting in the center of it.
Mirela didn’t hesitate.
The absolute terror of the Haunted Winterlands, the massacre at the camp, and the oppressive aura of the Endless Tower were completely overwritten by her immediate maternal instincts.
Mirela dropped her moon-crystal staff. It clattered loudly against the obsidian stone. She practically threw herself forward with her hands moving with frantic speed.
She unclasped the heavy, oversized winter coat Klaus had given her... the one currently keeping her warm, despite the Ring of the Winter Lord on her finger doing most of the work and pulled it off her shoulders.
She dropped to her knees right next to the little girl and wrapped the thick, fur-lined coat tightly around the child’s small, bare shoulders.
"Oh, you poor thing," Mirela fussed, her voice trembling with genuine distress as she bundled the heavy fabric around the girl, completely dwarfing her small frame. "You must be freezing. It is so cold in here. W-we need to get you proper clothes. We have some smaller tunics in the Caravan’s stash. I can modify them probably."
Mirela looked up at Klaus, her eyes wide and pleading for direction. "Master, I am going to go back outside to the wreckage. I will find something for her to wear, and I will bring back some warm water and rations. Please watch her!"
Klaus didn’t say a word as he just offered a slow nod.
Mirela didn’t wait.
She scooped up her staff, turned on her heel, and sprinted back down the massive stairs of the altar.
Her boots echoing loudly as she rushed out the towering dark iron doors and back out into the dead, black landscape.
Klaus was left entirely alone with the child.
The little girl didn’t shrug off the massive coat.
She pulled the fur collar up slightly, her striking purple eyes returning to Klaus’s face. She didn’t look scared of the dark-haired, blood-stained man kneeling in front of her.
Instead the girl looked incredibly observant.
"She is very kind..." the girl said softly with her melodic voice sounding effortlessly in the quiet hall. "Her soul is bright."
"She is a good person," Klaus managed to say then he swallowed hard, forcing his vocal cords to work properly. "Are you... are you really my daughter?"
"I was formed from the remaining divine core of my mother and the absolute foundation of your Soul Mana," the girl answered. "Biologically, magically, and spiritually, I am your direct descendant. I am a Shinigami."
She paused, looking down at her small, pale hands poking out of the oversized sleeves of the winter coat.
"But my mother did not have the time or the breath to give me a designation," the girl said, looking back up at him. "I do not have a name so will you give me one?"
Klaus stared into her deep amethyst eyes.
He thought about the grandiose, absurd names the nobles of the Capital gave their children...
He thought about the titles of the ancient gods, the terrifying lore of the Winterlands, and the over-the-top LitRPG naming conventions of this world.
He didn’t want any of that.
He wanted something simple.
"Anya," Klaus said simply.
The little girl blinked. "Anya?"
"Yes," Klaus nodded, his dark eyes softening just a fraction. "It’s a simple name. It doesn’t mean anything overly complicated. It just means you are you. Is that okay?"
The little girl’s lips curved into a small genuinely beautiful smile.
The exact second she accepted the name, the ambient mana in the cavernous hall shifted as a brilliant soft pulse of pale purple light radiated from her chest.
Her striking eyes glowed with a sudden, intense luminescence as the name bound itself permanently to her soul, solidifying her existence in the mortal plane.
"I like it," Anya smiled. "Thank you, Father."
"Oh, she is precious!" a tiny voice squealed.
Chibi Valeria popped into existence, hovering just a few inches above Klaus’s shoulder. The woman had recovered from her initial terror of the Shinigami aura.
She leaned forward as her crimson eyes sparkled with adoration.
"Look at her, My King! She has your dark, brooding aesthetic but with much better hair! We should conquer a small kingdom for her as a birthday present!"
Anya tilted her head with her purple eyes locking directly onto the miniature woman.
Valeria froze, her tiny wings stopping mid-beat. She suddenly remembered exactly what kind of entity she was looking at.
A Shinigami wasn’t just a powerful monster; it was a fundamental force of reality that governed souls and Valeria was currently just a soul bound to Klaus.
"A-ah, ahem..." Valeria coughed nervously, floating backward and hiding slightly behind Klaus’s neck. "I will... I will just be in your soul if you need me, Master. Take your time."
Valeria vanished in a flurry of sparks.
Before Klaus could ask Anya about the woman’s sudden retreat, the heavy sound of rapid footsteps echoed through the hall.
Mirela returned, sprinting up the stairs of the altar.
She was carrying a bundle of fabric in her arms... a dark blue tunic they had looted from the camp, hastily cut down at the hem with a hunting knife, and a thick woolen scarf.
"I found some things!" Mirela announced, dropping to her knees beside Anya.
She gently pulled the heavy winter coat away and quickly dressed the small girl in the modified tunic.
It was still a bit too large, hanging loosely off her small shoulders, but the thick woolen scarf wrapped around her neck kept it secure.
"There," Mirela smiled, brushing a stray lock of silver hair out of Anya’s face. "Much better."
Anya stood up. She didn’t wobble or stumble like a newborn child.
She moved with perfect grace.
Anya walked to the edge of the massive stone altar, her small, bare feet silent against the obsidian then she looked out over the sprawling ground floor of the Endless Tower with her purple eyes taking in the towering pillars and the pale blue flames.
"What built this?" Klaus asked, standing up and walking over to stand behind her. "A group of people? Mages?"
Anya let out a soft laugh.
"No, Father," Anya answered, turning her head to look at him. "A mortal Mage could not construct something like this. It is a monument... A tomb..."
She pointed a small finger at the polished black obsidian floor beneath their feet.
"This stone is not natural rock," Anya explained, dropping a piece of lore that completely shattered everything Klaus knew about the geography of the Winterlands. "This entire region used to be a sprawling vibrant forest but this is the exact location where the First Soul King fought the Original God of Darkness. The First King smited the Dark God right here. The sheer, overwhelming power of his divine strike instantly flash-glassed the earth, turning the land black for miles as the tower was raised to seal the remaining dark energy."
Klaus looked down at the black mirror-like floor and the implications were staggering.
The power required to turn an entire forest into a crater of solid obsidian was beyond nuclear.
He thought about his own power. He had just siphoned a huge amount of his raw Soul Mana to give birth to Anya and the drain had nearly dropped him to his knees.
Klaus mentally opened his system interface, expecting to see a massive leap in his stats, or a notification that he had finally ’awakened’ the true potential of the Soul King class after performing such a miraculous divine feat.
He pulled up his status screen.
Nothing...
His stats were exactly the same as they were after he slaughtered the noble camp. He still had the same four skill slots and his overall mana capacity hadn’t expanded. He didn’t feel any different at all.
’I poured enough energy into her mother to have a child,’ Klaus thought, frowning deeply as he stared at the blue interface. ’But my core hasn’t changed. Why haven’t I awakened? If giving life to a Shinigami doesn’t trigger the class ascension, what the hell will?’
"Because the true legacy of the Soul King is not with me, Father." Anya stated calmly.
Klaus flinched, stepping back in genuine shock. He dismissed the blue interface with his dark eyes turning wide as he stared at the six-year-old girl.
He hadn’t spoken a single word out loud.
"You can read my mind?" Klaus asked with his guard instantly snapping back up and Mirela looked at the two... She didn’t understand what was going on but it was complicated.
"I am a Shinigami," Anya replied with her purple eyes glowing a bit. "I do not read your thoughts like a cheap parlor trick. I feel the resonance of your soul. Your confusion is very loud."
She turned fully around to face him with her small expression turning incredibly serious.
"My mother was just a guardian, Father," Anya explained, pointing her finger straight up toward the unseen ceiling of the massive tower. "The First King left his absolute power behind but the Second Soul King... he was not a righteous man. He was a perverted tyrant."
Klaus listened closely.
"The Second King craved immortality after turning old..." Anya continued. "He knew that eventually, a Third Soul King would be chosen to replace him... He could not accept death as he wanted to live forever."
Anya took a step closer to Klaus, looking up into his dark eyes.
"To prevent being permanently replaced, the Second King fractured the succession," Anya revealed, unveiling the sinister truth of the tower. "He took the final ’awakening’ piece... the core of the Soul King’s legacy and locked it at the very pinnacle of this tower. He guarded it with a trial that only the current host of the Soul King can enter."
Klaus crossed his arms over his chest.
"So, it’s a boss room," Klaus summarized. "He locked the class-up item behind a high-level dungeon trial. That’s standard. I just have to go up there, beat whatever he left behind, and claim the legacy."
Klaus reached down, resting his hand casually on the hilt of his iron sword.
"What’s the delay then?" Klaus asked, eager to get the power spike. "Let’s go upstairs. I’ve been killing things all week. I’m warmed up..."
Anya didn’t smile. She reached out with her small, pale hand and grabbed Klaus’s wrist.
The physical strength in her tiny grip was absolutely shocking. It felt like an iron vise clamping down on his arm.
Klaus couldn’t pull his hand away if he tried.
"It is a trap, Father," Anya warned him, her purple eyes burning with intense fear. "The Second King did not build a fair trial. He built a parasitic snare... He designed it so that every single time you attempt the trial and fail, the room will violently siphon a massive portion of your life force. It drains your soul to feed his lingering consciousness..."
She squeezed his wrist tighter.
"He wants you to fail," Anya said. "He wants to consume your life so he can gather enough energy to reincarnate himself into your body. If you go up there and lose, you will die, and he will take your place."
