Nicholas's body blazed with golden symbols that pulsed like miniature suns embedded in his flesh. The runic marks weren't simply glowing—they were singing, each symbol resonating with harmonics that made the ancient training ground's stones hum in sympathetic vibration.

"Now pay attention," Nicholas said, his voice carrying undertones that suggested power operating on scales that exceeded normal magical theory.

Nicholas raised his hand and began drawing in the air itself. Golden lines followed his finger's movement, hanging in space like molten metal cooling into geometric perfection. The symbols he traced weren't from any contemporary magical tradition—they belonged to something older, more fundamental.

Three massive fire suns materialized from the runic script, each one containing enough thermal energy to melt fortress walls. They launched at Klaus with trajectory that eliminated any possibility of evasion within the training ground's confines.

Klaus stood his ground as stellar fire crashed into his position.

BOOM!

The explosion carved a crater in stone that had been reinforced to withstand transcendent power. Ancient walls cracked as shockwaves raced outward, making the entire Eastern Tower tremble on its foundations. Smoke and superheated air filled the chamber, creating conditions that would have been instantly lethal to normal humans.

When the flames cleared, Klaus remained exactly where he had been standing, his clothes slightly singed but otherwise unaffected. He brushed dust from his sleeve with casual indifference that spoke to defensive capabilities that operated outside normal physics.

But Nicholas was already drawing again.

This time, twelve perfect copies of himself materialized from the golden script, each one wreathed in the same lightning aura that enhanced his original form. The clones moved with synchronized precision, surrounding Klaus in formation that eliminated escape routes while maximizing attack angles.

They struck as one.

Twelve crystal swords, each enhanced with lightning and runic power, carved through air that screamed under the assault. The clones executed techniques that showcased Nicholas's combat mastery multiplied twelve-fold, creating web of deadly steel that should have been impossible to survive.

Klaus moved like water flowing around stones. His enhanced reflexes allowed him to track all twelve attackers simultaneously, deflecting strikes that arrived from every direction while maintaining perfect defensive positioning. Each parry was precisely calculated to redirect force rather than absorb it, turning the clones' coordinated assault against itself.

"For you to know the old runic arts to this extent," Klaus said as he caught two swords simultaneously while kicking a third clone hard enough to shatter it into golden light, "count me impressed."

Nicholas didn't pause to acknowledge the compliment. His hands moved in complex patterns, drawing symbols that created increasingly devastating effects. Walls of fire erupted from geometric designs. Lightning storms spawned from circular patterns. Gravity wells formed where intersecting lines crossed, creating zones where reality itself bent under artificially generated forces.

The training ground became a war zone of competing energies as Nicholas unleashed techniques that transformed abstract mathematics into weapons capable of reshaping local space. Each runic sequence built upon previous effects, creating cumulative destruction that pushed the reinforced chamber to its structural limits.

Klaus navigated the chaos with ease that bordered on artistic. He stepped between gravitational anomalies, ducked under plasma streams that could have vaporized mountains, and casually swatted aside energy constructs that pulsed with enough power to level city blocks.

"Remarkable technique," Klaus observed as he avoided a particularly complex attack that involved synchronized elemental manifestations. "These aren't modern runic formulations. Where did you learn patterns that predate current magical theory?"

Nicholas's response was to intensify his efforts. The golden symbols covering his body blazed brighter as he drew power from sources that transcended normal mana manipulation. His movements became more desperate, techniques more elaborate, as he struggled to find combination of effects that could challenge Klaus's overwhelming defensive capabilities.

But the accumulated energy in the chamber was reaching dangerous levels. Lightning crackled between floating fire constructs. Gravity distortions created visible warping in the air itself. The remaining clones flickered with instability as maintaining multiple runic effects simultaneously pushed even Nicholas's enhanced capabilities toward their limits.

Then everything collapsed at once.

The clones exploded in synchronized detonations that released their stored lightning energy. Fire constructs imploded into superheated cores before erupting outward. Gravity wells destabilized, creating spatial tears that made geometry temporarily negotiable.

The cumulative effect was spectacular destruction that tested every ward and reinforcement the ancient chamber possessed.

Nicholas stood in the center of the chaos, his golden symbols now blazing with intensity that made looking at him directly painful. He raised both hands and began drawing his most complex pattern yet—symbols within symbols, geometric relationships that hurt to contemplate, mathematical concepts given physical form through will focused by runic precision.

"Eclipse," Nicholas spoke the word like invocation that called upon forces operating beyond mortal comprehension.

All the accumulated energy in the chamber—residual lightning, dispersed fire, gravitational distortions, spatial tears—suddenly condensed into a sphere of absolute darkness that hung in the air like miniature black hole. The dark orb pulsed once, twice, then exploded with force that cracked every wall in the training ground and made the entire Eastern Tower sway on its foundations.

Klaus raised his hand and caught the explosion barehanded.

The dark energy crashed against his palm like tidal wave meeting immovable cliff. Destructive force that could have leveled city districts simply stopped, unable to advance past Klaus's enhanced defenses. The explosion continued for several seconds, pouring its fury against resistance that remained absolutely static.

When the attack finally exhausted itself, Klaus lowered his hand. His palm showed slight discoloration where the dark energy had made contact, but no actual damage.

"As expected," Nicholas said, his voice carrying mixture of admiration and resignation, "you are no longer human."

The golden symbols on Nicholas's body began to fade as the runic enhancement reached its natural conclusion. Yet rather than showing exhaustion, he moved to his crystal sword and began drawing new patterns directly onto the blade's surface.

"Now let's get serious," Nicholas said, his fingers tracing symbols that made the transparent weapon blaze with power that transcended anything he had demonstrated previously.

The runic script sank into the crystal blade like ink absorbed by paper, but instead of golden light, these symbols burned with silver radiance that spoke to techniques operating on even more fundamental levels of reality manipulation.

Klaus felt his enhanced senses register genuine interest for the first time since their confrontation began. Whatever Nicholas was preparing represented escalation beyond impressive demonstrations into territory that might actually require attention.

The crystal sword completed its transformation, becoming focal point for energies that made the training ground's atmosphere thick as honey. When Nicholas raised the weapon, reality seemed to bend around its presence, creating visual distortions that suggested space itself was being prepared for surgery.

"I was wondering when you'd show me something that required actual effort," Klaus said, settling into combat stance that acknowledged worthy opposition rather than mere entertainment.

Nicholas smiled through features that had been refined by runic enhancement into something approaching perfection. "You haven't seen anything yet."