The low, steady rumble of the sleeping Night Dragon instantly ceased to be the dominant sound. In the space between Klaus's whispered command and the dragon's next deep breath, the Arkadius System responded. It was a projection only he could perceive, yet it possessed a cold, crystalline reality that seed to cut the sunlit garden in two.
The initial view that materialized before him, shimring with the characteristic faint blue light of celestial data, was his own existential summary. It was a terrifyingly accurate ledger of the walking paradox he had beco.
---
~~**Status Window**~~
Na: Klaus Lionhart (Arkadius Deus Millano)
Title: Gluttony Apostle, The Youngest Archmage in Xyros, The Youngest Swordmaster in the Continent, Contractor of a Lost Species, Dark Dragon ister, Last Protector of Xyros, Third Chair of %&$ Council, The One Who Awaits Beyond, The One Who Betrayed God
State: Transcendent (Soul)
Trait: Gluttony Lv4, Ten Eyes Mantra (Five-Eyes), Five Circle Mage, Swordmaster (??? Level), ister (Stage: 2)
Bloodlines: Ice Art (Transcendent Realm), Beast Art (Second Realm) Unique Abilities: Red Zone (First Eye), Void Thinker (Second Eye), Arcane Flas
**Stats:
- Strength: 1
- Agility: 1
- Stamina: 1
- Energy: 1
- Perception: 1
- Arcane Power: 1
- Willpower: 1
- Arcane Flas: 1
---
**Contracted Beast**
---
Klaus's focus imdiately narrowed on the nurical output. The entire column of quantifiable attributes—Strength, Agility, Arcane Power—all resolved to a single, elegant digit: 1.
He smiled, a cold, almost academic curve of the lips. The perfect result.
This was the realization of the Singularity Principle, a law of cosmic physics he had only co to understand through the compromised knowledge base of his fake existence as Arkadius Deus Millano. The principle dictated that when a being reached a true transcendent state, a critical point where their power output defied dinsional limits, quantifying their attributes against lesser beings beca aningless.
All forces were equal to one, no matter the catastrophic output. If you can cleave a continent in half with a flick of the wrist, the asurent of your physical strength against a man who can only lift a boulder is irrelevant. The scale had broken.
Klaus found himself feeling a strange sort of debt to the very being attempting to steal his body. The life he had lived as the Celestial Arkadius—a series of pre-arranged events designed by the real Arkadius to indoctrinate Klaus's ego and prepare him for the final assimilation—had been a betrayal of epic proportions. Yet, within that fake history, within the illusionary experiences of the Celestial Realm, were fragnts of genuine, high-order knowledge. Knowledge that allowed him to understand his current state.
'At least I can still use your scraps, Arkadius,' Klaus thought, a touch of grim irony coloring his self-dialogue. 'Your knowledge is still knowledge.'
He let his gaze drift back up to his titles, the terrifyingly dense list of labels attached to his soul. Most were explicable: Gluttony Apostle for what the vessel that is his body is, Youngest Archmage/Swordmaster for his mortal achievents, and The One Who Betrayed God for the mont Arkadius—the real Arkadius—freed the Arkdieus from their prison Realm. This last title, a whispered, damning echo from the highest order of creation, was still a mystery, yet Klaus knew in his core that Greed's explanation had been incomplete, a partial truth masking a greater, more dangerous narrative.
But it was the title, The One Who Awaits Beyond, that clicked like a tumblers of a lock in his mind.
It was a direct reference to the ego of the original Arkadius, the Celestial King, who now lurked hidden in the deeper, inaccessible recesses of Klaus's sea of consciousness, waiting patiently for the mont of weakness—the final, chaotic emotional surge—to seize control and reclaim his vessel.
Klaus stared at the line, acknowledging the chilling truth of the ticking ti bomb in his skull.
'If you can't do anything about it now, why stress about it?'
This thought wasn't an act of reckless denial, but a philosophical core he had deliberately cultivated. There were inescapable forces in life—gravity, ti, and the looming threat of a Celestial King—and to waste finite emotional energy on them was a luxury a survivor could not afford. Stressing over an inevitable conflict that could only be t with maximum ability, not anxiety, was a pointless path to self-injury. Klaus, the man, was committed to being just Klaus Lionhart until the final mont.
What Klaus did not realize was that this calm, absolute acceptance of his own identity—this deliberate and detached refusal to rge his soul with the existential dread of the original being—was the very process slowly nurturing the next level of his power. He was, unknowingly, edging ever closer to opening the Sixth Eye of the Ten Eyes Mantra, the eye of Absolute Self-Definition, which would grant him the ultimate defense against the Celestial King's assimilation attempt.
Pushing all thoughts of Arkadius aside, Klaus deliberately shifted his consciousness to the second half of the display.
Contracted Beast
The panel shifted with a fluid shimr, focusing instantly on the massive, slumbering black dragon at his feet.
~Contracted Beast~
Na: Dudu
Title: The Last One of His Bloodline
Race: Night Dragon
State: Good Condition
Trait: ister Bond
Unique Abilities: Arcane Flas, Shadow Control, Auto-Regeneration, Red Zone, Void Thinker, Dragon Eyes
Stage: Toddler
Stats:
- Strength: 3000
- Flying Speed: 3000
- Stamina: 3000
- Energy: 5000
- Perception: 5000
- Arcane Flas: 5000
---
Klaus felt a familiar, sharp intellectual surprise, one that briefly broke his transcendent calm.
"What the—" he almost choked on the breath he pulled in. The sheer magnitude of the numbers was an obscene display of raw power, a concentration of energy that surpassed most legendary heroes of the continent.
"And you are telling he is just a toddler?" Klaus muttered, staring at the Stage: Toddler designation. If Dudu possessed the physical might of a hundred elite soldiers combined, and a perception that bordered on prophetic, all while being developntally equivalent to a human three-year-old, what kind of horrifying, reality-breaking monster would he be in adulthood? The thought was truly terrifying.
His analytical gaze then swept across the Unique Abilities field. His eyebrows arched further as he registered the new additions: Red Zone and Void Thinker. Dudu was inheriting the abilities Klaus gained from the Ten Eyes Mantra. The shared mana pool and the deep taphysical link forged by the ister Bond were not just financial lines of credit; they were conduits for conceptual power. Klaus's ability to analyze and comprehend was being grafted onto his contracted beast, transforming the black dragon into a celestial-level sensor and conceptual thinker, even as a toddler.
His attention then settled on Dudu's Trait: ister Bond, a term that mirrored his own Dark Dragon ister title. He looked at the mark on his own forearm—the familiar tattoo in the stylized shape of a dragon's head, the symbol of the highest form of contract known in the old world.
"ister," Klaus repeated, the word tasting ancient and profound on his tongue. He knew the legends, whispered in hushed tones by scholars of the bygone eras: isters were beings of overwhelming, world-breaking capability. A single one was rumored to be enough to eradicate an entire kingdom. He possessed the title and the bond, but the practical thodology—the specific application of ister Power—was locked away.
Klaus closed his eyes, activating his five open eyes internally. He pushed his consciousness to the ultimate limit, engaging Void Thinker. The world outside instantly slowed to a near-standstill. Ti beca a thick, glacial current, allowing his mind to process information at a rate asured in nanoseconds.
He plunged into the labyrinth of his own past: hundreds of different life mories, the accumulated knowledge of the forr Archmage and the Celestial King's fake persona, all laid out like files in a cosmic library. He sped through the vast archives of celestial knowledge, looking for the specific sub-category of the ister State, the activation protocols, the core tenants of that power.
The whole process—the conceptual review of countless lifetis—took, at most, ten seconds in the normal world's perception, a lifeti for his focused mind.
He pulled back, the world snapping back to full speed, the roar of the resting dragon's breath returning to his ears.
"Nothing, hm."
Despite all the celestial knowledge, all he recalled about isters were the legends: beings of impossible power, who could shape reality through pure will. The technical manual, the user guide about isters, was still missing.
But he was not without leads.
Kazimir.
Kazimir Raikra, the youngest son of the Beast Emperor, was also known to be a ister—a rare existence outside of the ancient Bloodlines. The Beast Emperor, his maternal grandfather, would possess the greatest living knowledge of the Beast Arts, which shared deep, intertwined roots with the dark secrets of the ister bond. The Emperor had trained Kazimir. He would know.
Klaus looked up toward the far south, toward the wild lands of the continent where the Raikra Empire resided.
'I guess I have one more reason to et you, Grandfather.' He had already been ordered to travel first to the Ice Palace in the far North, and then to the Raikra Empire in the South as part of his mission. But now, that southward journey carried sothing beyond politics—an added, personal purpose, a necessity tied to unlocking the next, terrifying layer of his own power.
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