The human mind could be divided into two domains: the conscious, where thought occurred, and the dormant unconscious—what was commonly known as the subconscious.
The subconscious was the gateway to the soul's foundation.
If one were to compare the mind to an ocean, then the subconscious was the vast, hidden depths one had to cross to reach the ocean floor... and from there, door to the soul's true core will be opened.
Klaus opened his eyes after hours of deep meditation, breathing heavily. Had he... just now unlocked a way to access his soul sea without relying on a spell?
Yeah... That was definitely it. So this was how it was done.
Klaus was never exceptionally talented. His techniques and mastery didn't come from innate genius, but through relentless understanding—through trial, error, and stubborn analysis. While others might stumble into insight by instinct, acting without understanding, he was not like them. He needed to comprehend what he was doing before he could execute it.
The process was maddeningly slow, but it had its merits—his foundation was becoming unshakable.
He hesitated for a moment... and then, in the blink of an eye, he was no longer on the Chain Isles.
He stood in his soul sea—an endless, starlit cosmos swirling with power.
He returned to reality with a shuddering breath.
"...Hahaha… So that's how it is," Klaus murmured to himself.
But it wasn't just access to his soul sea without the spell that he'd gained.
Because the subconscious lies deep within one's mental realm, it remains mostly dormant. But as one grows stronger, there comes a point where an individual can awaken a sixth sense—a doorway bridging the conscious and the subconscious.
This sixth sense, the foundation of instinct, exists on the border between thought and the soul. The subconscious comprises nearly 80% of one's total awareness. Touching it without preparation is dangerous. A single misstep could cause irreversible damage to the mind.
In ancient times... Well, now he is in ancient times... anyway, people sought mastery over the subconscious. Only then could one break free from the prison of the flesh, grasp the essence of the soul, and complete their spiritual growth.
It was akin to Nirvana—transcending oneself. A ascension.
In other words... Natural Awakening. The path to divinity.
Klaus felt an ecstatic rush flood through him. He'd uncovered something profound—something real. For now, the pursuit of Darkness Creatures could wait. This was more important.
He refocused, delving back into his training. His mind was sharper now, but something peculiar stirred within him.
Two forces… or perhaps one? No—it was one force, split in duality.
Like Yin and Yang.
One side was pure nothingness—silent, still, absolute. The other was uncontrollable, unpredictable, ever-changing—a force of chaos and movement.
How could nothingness and change be two sides of the same coin?
He tried to delve deeper, to analyze this paradox—but he recoiled just in time, drenched in cold sweat. Something told him… if he had gone a step further, he might have died.
For now, that truth was too dangerous to confront.
Two weeks passed. But they hadn't been wasted. Not at all.
His power had plateaued for a while—his rank too low, his potential restrained. He'd hit the ceiling of what an Awakened could achieve.
Yet Klaus, without a doubt, was the strongest Awakened in all of history.
He glanced at his worn supplies—canned food, protein bars, water—and began eating with a bitter grimace.
The meditation hadn't just deepened his knowledge. It had pushed back the mental corruption of Hope. At least, for now.
It was working.
His flaw had always been part of his struggle—but when it came to Hope's corruption, Klaus had an edge. Others had no countermeasures. They didn't even realize that they were losing themselves, driven mad by their own desires under Hope's influence.
But Klaus had been battling his own compulsions since he was a child. He knew the signs. He understood the hunger. He had direction.
And he was prepared.
The Law Of Original Sin guarded him.
His attribute wasn't just about forbidden knowledge and sin—it was about awareness. About understanding. A rare and priceless trait in a world where ignorance was the greatest poison.
Klaus knew he was a terrible person. He was under no illusions about that. His life hadn't been honorable, nor one to take pride in.
His only redeeming quality, perhaps, was that he'd saved the world.
Even if no one knew about it.
There was something achingly lonely about that. To sacrifice so much, to bleed and kill and carry the weight of a world on your shoulders—only to be forgotten by the very people you saved. He had slain his own father to ensure the world would live on. But now, having tasted the sweetness of love, could he truly judge the man who had doomed the world for the woman he loved?
Could Klaus honestly say he wouldn't have done the same if there were even the slimmest chance to bring Aurora back?
He didn't know.
He couldn't know.
But deep down, he suspected the answer—and that made him a hypocrite.
Love, he realized, was the end of duty.
He had tried to fight his desires. Gods, he truly had. But his flaw—his damned flaw—only amplified them. Because of that, morality became a gray blur. He hated that side of himself. And yet... he couldn't stop it. Temptation was always there, like a whisper at the back of his mind.
He'd slept with many women, chasing fleeting highs, indulging in the pleasures of flesh and the twisted satisfaction of momentary bliss. Lust was not something he handled well. That much was obvious.
Aurora had been the one exception.
She made him forget all those broken urges. With her, love and lust merged into something pure, something sacred. But after her death, even those pleasures felt hollow—just a way to numb the grief, to kill time, to avoid facing the unbearable truth.
And then there was greed.
He had killed for Beauté du Passé, painted his path in blood to live like a king in his district.
How many businesses did he own?
How many people worked under his name?
How many resources had he amassed?
Nearly every Dream Realm trade in his district—soul shards, memories, echoes, nightmare carcasses—answered to him. His riches were second only to the great clans. He had his own citadel. He would claim the Ivory Tower next. His vaults brimmed with tens of thousands of soul shards, piles of gold, diamonds, rubies, sapphires, mystical metals and blessed materials. Too many to count. Too many to care.
Hundreds of Awakened worked under him—those who stayed loyal even after Jack's death, and now the ones who surrendered after he crushed Liam. Their numbers only grew. But Klaus gave them a simple ultimatum: if they wanted access to his wealth and luxury, they had to earn it. Which meant fighting nightmare creatures, constantly.
Perhaps that's why his subordinates were so terrifying.
No mystery about that.
But how had he built all this from nothing, with no legacy, no backing ?
Certainly not through honor.
And then, there was his rage.
Wrath was easier to contain than his lust or greed, but it wasn't simple either. He had a temper. When he snapped, people died. It was as simple as that.
At least he wasn't envious. Nor was he lazy.
Sloth and Envy were sins he could proudly say he didn't bear. Why envy others when others should envy him? And Sloth? Sloth disgusted him.
But Pride...
Pride was the monster he could never silence.
It clung to him like a second skin. Klaus didn't consider anyone his equal. Why would he? What kind of lunatic challenges Transcendents and Supremes while still being an Awakened?
Him. That's who.
Even if he had plans, strategies, rituals—it was still madness. It was his pride that pushed him to create Ritualistic Magic. He wasn't content with copying the sorceries of gods and daemons. That was beneath him.
He had enough arrogance to discard divine legacies and forge his own.
Klaus never knelt.
Never surrendered.
Never gave up.
That was simply who he was.
He smiled bitterly at the thought. The reflection was painful. Sometimes, ignorance really was sweeter than the truth.
But truth...
Truth was necessary—for enlightenment.