The silence that settled upon the shattered Eastern Tower chamber was a heavy cloak, muffling the faint sounds of the distant capital. Dust motes danced in the slivers of moonlight that pierced the jagged holes in the walls, illuminating the wreckage of what had been a state-of-the-art containment system. Each crystalline shard scattered across the floor, reflecting the spectral glow of Klaus's arcane energy, was a testament to his overwhelming power – and to the chilling conversation that had just concluded.

Nicholas's ominous words continued to resonate in the stillness, a chilling prophecy echoing in the vast, damaged space. A war coming to Runiya, unlike anything the continent had ever faced. The phrase "fighting gods" vibrated with an unsettling ambiguity. Were these literal deities, or merely powerful, ancient entities whose capabilities simply transcended mortal comprehension? Nicholas had hinted at solutions requiring "choices that went against everything Klaus believed about protecting innocent people." The weight of those potential decisions pressed down on him, a moral burden heavier than any physical force he had ever encountered.

But even more disturbing than the prophecy itself was the feeling Nicholas had left him with: the distinct impression of being maneuvered. A pawn, albeit an incredibly powerful one, in a game whose rules and ultimate objectives remained largely unrevealed. Klaus, the reincarnation of a calculating mage, detested being controlled. His mind, honed by the Singularity Principle to perceive the elegant unity underlying fragmented realities, yearned for complete understanding, for the full picture that Nicholas consistently withheld.

He ran a hand through his stark white hair, the cool strands a testament to the Icarus fragment's absorption – that pivotal moment when he had defied the Icarus Cult's ritual and integrated a piece of Arkadius into himself. That fragment, along with his own deep, fragmented memories, had gifted him a clarity that allowed him to grasp the very mathematics of existence, to see the broken statistics of his own power system not as flaws, but as reflections of a system inadequate to define a being of his scope. Yet, even with this transcendent understanding, the path ahead was obscured by shadows and moral ambiguities.

The responsibility for Runiya's fate, and perhaps even Xyros's, seemed to fall squarely on his shoulders, an unbearable weight. He had faced homunculi, disrupted the Convergence at Northwatch where Gluttony had consumed a rift, and even manifested pure Soul Energy during his clashes with Sabrina. He was strong, unequivocally so. But Nicholas's warnings implied a different kind of threat, one that demanded more than just raw power.

Nicholas had spoken of an impending invasion from the southern continent of Arkadia, mentioning their "enhanced soldiers." But it was a particular detail Nicholas had let slip that truly seized Klaus's attention. Arkadia's unique cultivation methods, their warriors able to wield both magic and swordsmanship with startling proficiency.

Klaus knew the terrifying potential of such a combination better than anyone on Xyros. His own journey was a testament to it. He was a genius mage, but also a formidable swordsman, mastering both disciplines to an unprecedented degree. He understood the synergy, the unpredictable flow of combat when one could seamlessly transition from arcane blasts to lethal blade techniques, the way a spell could set up a sword strike, or a sword strike could disrupt a spell. The ability to switch between long-range and close-quarters combat, to confound and overwhelm opponents who specialized in only one form – it made a warrior exponentially more dangerous. An entire army, or even a specialized unit, trained in such a method… that was not just a threat; it was a paradigm shift in warfare, a force that could dismantle Runiya's traditional battle lines with ease. It wasn't about raw power alone, but a terrifying versatility and tactical depth that most could not even conceive.

This was why he needed more than just his own burgeoning strength. He needed ancient knowledge, a different perspective, perhaps even a key to his own fractured past. The Icarus fragment had provided some clarity regarding his "true self," hinting at a cosmic identity far from human comprehension – a fragmented ego of Arkadius. But these were fleeting insights, incomplete puzzle pieces. To truly understand who he was, what Arkadius was, and the nature of the cosmic conflict that now seemed to directly involve him, he needed a source of deeper, more ancient knowledge.

And that led him to the unassuming ring on his finger, where Greed, the Founding Ancestor's legendary sword, now rested in a dormant, condensed form. Greed, the eccentric Arkdieu fragment, had been a constant, if arrogant and demanding, presence in his life as a blade. It had offered cryptic advice, revealed ancient secrets, and served as an incredibly powerful weapon. But as Klaus's own arcane power had soared, Greed had grown quiet, its vibrant personality muted, its connection distant. Klaus had felt its loss, a subtle emptiness in his mental landscape where Greed's sharp wit and even sharper criticisms once resided. He genuinely missed the old sword, its unique companionship.

But beyond the personal longing, there was a deeper, more urgent reason now. Greed, as an Arkdieu fragment itself, a being intertwined with the cosmic workings of existence, might hold answers about Arkadius. It was possible Greed knew more about Klaus's true self, about the purpose of his multiple reincarnations, and about the greater forces at play than anyone else he had encountered. He yearned to question the sword, to sift through its ancient memories for clues, for direction in this accelerating storm.

He extended his hand, palm up, and focused on the ring. It felt inert, a cold band of metal. To awaken it, to restore its connection, wouldn't be simple. Klaus closed his eyes, drawing upon the memory of its vast, hungry presence, recalling the arcane knowledge required. To truly awaken an entity of Greed's stature, especially one that had undergone such a profound compression, required a colossal infusion of energy, a specific kind that resonated with its primordial nature. Not mana, which was the lifeblood of Runiya's magic system, but arcane energy—the raw, untamed power that pulsed within his own uniquely formed core. The same energy that had manifested at Northwatch, that his body inherently converted mana into.

Taking a deep, centering breath, Klaus consciously began to draw upon the immense wellspring of arcane energy residing in his navel. The air around him shimmered, growing heavy with the raw, untamed force. His crystalline eyes, usually calm, now glowed with an internal, fierce light as he channeled his will. He directed the torrent of arcane energy towards the ring.

The metal of the ring remained stubbornly inert for a long, agonizing moment, resisting the influx like a dam refusing to break. Then, a faint, almost imperceptible throb resonated against his skin. It was a pulse, greedy and ancient, a spark of immense hunger stirring from a period of profound withdrawal. The last time Klaus's connection to Greed had felt this slim was during the Northwatch incident, when the sword had condensed into this ring form. Now, the dormant fragment of an Arkdieu within its core seemed to be waking from a deep, prolonged quietude.

Klaus pushed harder, an exponentially greater volume of arcane energy surging from his core. His body tensed, the cursed black veins that laced his skin, usually hidden beneath his clothes, began to subtly glow with a dark, purplish luminescence, tracing intricate patterns beneath his pale skin. The effort was immense, even for him. Sweat beaded on his brow, the air in the chamber growing hot and thick. The floor beneath his feet groaned, and fissures spider-webbed across the shattered chamber walls as the sheer pressure of the arcane energy began to affect the very fabric of reality around him.

The ring began to warm, then vibrate intensely, no longer a faint hum but a deep, resonant thrum that filled the air, a sound that seemed to come from the core of the planet itself. The dormant Arkdieu fragment was stirring, slowly but undeniably responding to the overwhelming, pure arcane energy. The air in the chamber grew dense, heavy with anticipation, as a vast, ancient consciousness, filled with arrogance and insatiable hunger, began to claw its way back towards wakefulness. The surface of the ring rippled, as if the metal itself was fluid, promising a profound transformation, the return of a critical ally – or perhaps, another volatile master with answers Klaus desperately sought.