Klaus walked silently behind Cassie, his expression carved from stone. Their boots crunched against broken gravel as they neared the makeshift camp where their cohort rested—though "rest" was a generous word. What remained of their group was battered, fraying at the edges, and desperately clinging to borrowed time.
Solvane was likely dead. The Sun Prince had been extinguished by his own hands.
That left only Sevras, the Ivory Dragon. A creature not bound by reason. A force ancient and terrifying, whose presence weighed on the soul like gravity.
A name heavy with dread. A being ancient, cruel, and absurdly powerful. Klaus didn't like the odds.
And time—time was a luxury they no longer had.
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply in irritation. This wasn't the time for arguments. At least Hassan was strong enough to stand again. That might prove useful, assuming they all lived long enough to care.
His gaze slid to Cassie's back.
Stubborn girl.
A familiar warmth stirred within his soul sea. Hemera, radiant as ever, unfurled her wings of fire. Glowing feathers drifted off her body like burning snowflakes, each one dissolving before it touched the unseen floor.
'Master,' she spoke gently into his mind, 'why did you hide the truth from her?'
Klaus didn't respond.
But of course, silence never lasted long in the theater of his mind.
Another presence made itself known. A familiar itch of disdain crept up his spine as the second voice arrived.
He shimmered into existence within Klaus's soul sea, wings stretched in languid arrogance, his presence as grating as ever. Despite being a spirit in the form of a bird, Loki managed to convey the smugness of an immortal court jester and a drunk philosopher at once.
'Why?' Loki drawled, voice a lazy purr laced with venom. 'Well, maybe because he's a cold, self-sabotaging bastard who ruins the lives of everyone he pretends to care about. Right, Master? Acting like some emotionless tyrant when, in reality, he cracked open Pandora's damn Box to make a wish that revived her.'
Klaus's eyes narrowed, his stride never faltering.
'Wasting a Divine Treasure on that blind girl. Could've saved that miracle for the final quest. Or, I don't know—something useful. If he dies now, he'll have no one to blame but his own stupidity. But no—Saint Klaus the Miserable had to play savior.'
Outwardly, Klaus was a mask of apathy.
Inwardly? A storm.
He clicked his tongue with restrained irritation.
"Piss off, Loki. I swear, I'll pluck your feathers one by one and turn you into interdimensional spaghetti again... And she doesn't need to know."
Loki made a garbled squawk that suspiciously resembled laughter. He flipped upside down and began to drift lazily through the cosmos of Klaus's inner world, his wings twitching with unspoken mockery.
'Oh? She doesn't? How convenient. Totally not because you're trying to distract her from the little deal you made with Mordret, hmm? Or because you're afraid—terrified, really—that you'll end up losing her just like you lost Aurora.'
Hemera's wings flared with sudden flame, fire crackling around her as she rounded on Loki, eyes blazing with fury.
'Enough! You will not insult Master again!'
Loki rolled his eyes, midair. 'Oh, spare me the loyalty act, you burned chicken. I'm just stating the obvious. He saves people only to push them away later. It's his little ritual of control. That way, when they leave—or die—he can pretend it didn't hurt.'
'He saved her life!' Hemera snarled, fire trailing her every breath. 'That choice—no matter how cruel—mattered. We kept her alive, avoided a direct clash with Mordret, And he preserved his strength for the final battle. Stop pretending you don't understand his choices. You feel him too.'
Loki shrieked in mock pain and vanished in a flurry of feathers and sarcasm, disappearing into the distant stars of Klaus's spirit sea.
Klaus winced, pinching the bridge of his nose as the last echoes of their bickering faded.
Klaus exhaled like a man walking through smoke. He pressed his fingers against his temple as he walked, his gaze flickering to Cassie again—more often than he'd like to admit. She didn't look back.
The silence between them wasn't peaceful. It was the strained, aching quiet that follows a war of words. The kind of silence that made you question if anything said could ever be unsaid.
Hemera's voice chirped sweetly in his mind, full of innocent observation.
'It's like one of those married couples. The kind in failing marriages that fight every day.'
Klaus stopped in his tracks, blinking. A single, stunned thought drifted through his head:
...Married?
Failing marriage? How the fuck did we skip twenty steps into divorce court?
He resumed walking, lips curling in wry disbelief. She meant no harm—Hemera never did—but gods, her timing was spectacularly cruel.
But They do fight a lot.
Maybe too much.
There was no such thing as a perfect relationship. That was a lie sold by poets and idiots. Real ones bled. Real ones broke. Real ones clawed their way through silence like this.
If perfection was what you wanted—
Then perhaps you were never ready to love at all.
A burst of laughter echoed through his soul.
Loki was back—of course he was—twirling midair, upside down, a golden monocle inexplicably appearing over one eye.
'Welcome back, dear listeners, to another episode of 'Emotional Masochism: The Klaus Edition!'" he declared, his tone now theatrical, dramatic, cruel. "Today's hot topic: How to build the perfect relationship! Step one: Gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss. Step two: When conflict arises, become emotionally constipated and bottle your trauma until it curdles into self-hatred! Step three: Love her? Easy. Just break her so she can't leave!'
He paused.
'Or better yet, train her like a dog. Less risk, more loyalty.'
Klaus sighed aloud this time.
Giving Loki self-awareness had been the worst decision he'd ever made.
He exhaled sharply and shoved his hands into his coat pockets.
"If I ever build a cage, it's going to be for that damn bird."
Up ahead, Cassie glanced back.
For just a moment.
Their eyes met.
Neither spoke.
Klaus stood still, cigarette glowing faintly between his lips, as radiant runes hovered in the air before him—symbols etched in stolen light, each one pulsing with the cunning malice of their master.
[Name: Loki
Spirit: The Vile Thieving Bird
Spirit Description:
[Once loathed by gods, daemons, and Unknown, the Vile Thieving Bird is a creature of legend and infamy—an accursed wretch driven by unrelenting desire for all that glitters and gleams. Entranced by the luminous grandeur of Divinity, this wretched avian dared to commit blasphemy: it stole the sacred fire under the veil of a lightless night.
For this sacrilege, the gods cast The Thieving Bird from the heavens, damning it never to soar again. With smoldering wings, it plummeted into the mortal realm, bringing with it the stolen embers. These flames, though profaned, sowed the seeds of forbidden enlightenment—birthing incomplete knowledge of Ascension and unwittingly igniting the dawn of the Age of Heroes.]
Rank: Ascended
Class: Devil
Attributes:
Sacrosanct Desecrator:
He does not steal to survive, nor even to thrive. For the Vile Thieving Bird, plunder is sacred. A compulsion. A sacrament. It is not just greed — it is the purpose of his very existence.
Crowned Vermin of the Dark Skies:
His soul is a vessel of putrefied majesty — vile, toxic, and saturated with primordial malice. Though broken and earthbound, he wears his wings like a monarch's robe, soaked in ash and blasphemy.
Gluttony of the Gilded Grave:
His greed is a bottomless pit into which all treasures are dragged. His delight comes not from possession, but from the act of taking, especially from those who dare to value what he covets.
Malicious Plunderer:
Everything—be it talent, treasure, or truth—exists to augment his mastery of larceny.
Sight of Profane Avarice:
With eyes sharpened by obsession, Loki peers through darkness and illusion. He discerns the presence, nature, and even the approximate worth of valuable relics, divine artifacts, and metaphysical wonders. No treasure, sacred or profane, hides from his gaze.
Abilities:
Iconoclast's Talons:
The essence of Loki's being. If the Vile Thieving Bird possesses sufficient power, there is nothing he cannot steal—from material wealth to immaterial essence.
Parasite of Proficiency:
He plucks mundane and mystical skills from those he deems less worthy. He can replicate them with terrifying precision… and sometimes, improve them in ways their original owners never imagined.
Dream-Eater:
Loki can tear into the dreaming minds of others to steal knowledge, secrets, intentions, and even fleeting inspiration. Victims are left hollow-eyed, unaware of what was taken—or why they feel incomplete.
Scourge of Selfhood:
A cruel and dreadful talent — he may siphon the very essence of another. The Vile Bird may extract attributes from prey like feathers from a corpse. The theft is not often clean. It leaves echoes behind.]
Klaus remembered the first time he laid eyes on them. The moment had been euphoric, like glimpsing forbidden scripture carved into the fabric of reality. So what if he was the spawn of some long-forgotten, wicked deity? That detail felt trivial beside the sheer majesty of power inscribed in those names—abilities that sounded like they belonged in a mad god's gospel. And besides, Klaus couldn't deny it: the names were cool as hell.
But revelation has a habit of peeling away the shine.
Once Loki—like the other spirits—was granted full awareness and intelligence, Klaus came to an unfortunate realization. To put it plainly: Loki was an asshole.
A smug, greedy, silver-tongued parasite.
Deceitful to his core, Loki lied as easily as breathing. He tricked anyone and anything, caring for neither gods nor kin, neither worlds nor wisdom. His love extended only to his hoard—treasures amassed not just in gold or artifacts, but in secrets, stolen truths, and shattered dignity. The Vile Thieving Bird would sooner gut a dying man for the coin sewn into his shirt than offer a word of pity.
And yet...
It was because of him—because of that cursed spirit—that the Chaos Ascendancy had begun to thrive in ways Klaus had never predicted. Before Loki's creation, the Ascendancy's path was simple and brutal: eliminate all threats, leave no witnesses. But with Loki's influence whispering through their ranks, strategy changed. Enemies were no longer killed immediately. They were captured. Interrogated. Stripped bare of their memories, echoes, and anything else that could be turned into power.
It was a quiet revolution in method.
And the results had been staggering.
In less than a decade, the Chaos Ascendancy clawed its way up the world's hierarchy, now standing just beneath the dominion of the Government and the Great Clans. A feat many thought unachievable—no, unthinkable—had been realized. And behind the curtain, cackling with amusement, always... was Loki.
The architect of avarice.
The worm in every vault.
The thief of fate itself.
***
And here it is. To be honest, i had little hard time thinking about Loki's Abilities, Attributes, their names and all the stuff. I don't know if it's good or bad so i leave judgment to you guys.
Anyway, as for his lore. Well, i took inspiration from Prometheus. His personality is based on trickster god, Loki as well. I had lot of inspiration from Marauder pathway from lotm as well and other stuff.
How's names of Abilities? I had to Google most hated things by religions to gain some inspiration for it. Yeah, that's how nasty he is.
As for Cassie's situation? Well, she wouldn't survive of course. Hemera wasn't strong enough to heal her at that time so Klaus was forced to open Pandora's Box. But well, Cassie doesn't knows about that.
Finally, happy you all like this FF and thanks for your support.
Enjoy :)
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