Shadow Slave/// Oldest Dream

Klaus strolled through the old district like a king returning to his stolen throne. The air was thick with the stench of betrayal, and oh, how he loved the irony. This place used to be his—his District, his hunting grounds, his little empire of horrors. And yet, after a tiny inconvenience, his oh-so-loyal subordinates had decided to stab him in the back and help themselves to his treasure vault.

Klaus was pissed.

Dream Realm ores, top-tier abomination materials, soul shards. Enough wealth for even legacy clan. His wealth. His spoils. And these bottom-feeders thought they could just take it?

As he wandered, his gaze lazily scanned the streets until it landed on a man who reeked of arrogance—and was conveniently awakened. With a smirk, Klaus reached out, grabbing the man's shoulder with the casual ease of an old friend.

"Hello there, mate. What's your name? Kevin? Kaleb? Kuuuku? Let's go with Kuku." He grinned. "Anyway, Kuku, be a dear and tell me—where's our little prince Liam hiding these days?"

The man—Kuku—shrugged off Klaus's hand, his frown deepening.

"I only answer to Liam, and I suggest you to leave. Now."

Klaus took a step back, tilting his head like a teacher scolding a particularly dense student. His finger wagged in mock disappointment.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Oh, Kuku, Kuku, Kuku..." he sighed dramatically. "You really should've picked a different career path, my friend. Because you just failed spectacularly at self-preservation."

And with that, his hand shot out, gripping Kuku's throat and slamming him against the nearest wall.

The man choked, his fingers clawing at Klaus's grip, but the pressure did not budge. Klaus leaned in, his lips curling into friendly smile.

"Do you realize who I am, Kuku?" he said, voice dripping with amusement. "I'm the Smiling Man. I don't care what you do. I care what you can do for me. And right now?" His grip tightened. "You can tell me where Liam is before I start getting... creative."

Then, just as suddenly, he released him. Kuku stumbled, gasping, hands clutching at his bruised throat as Klaus dusted off his own sleeves like nothing had happened.

"Now, Kuku," he chirped, tone bright, pleasant. "Let's put that long tongue of yours to good use—by spilling every little detail you know about Liam. Otherwise…" He leaned in, voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper.

"I'd just hate to rip it out."

Two of them walked in district, Klaus following him from with pleasant smile. They ended up in old mansion where people were having fun, dancing and drinking without care in world. Kuku—or whatever ridiculous name he had—scurried off like a good little lapdog, disappearing into the crowd. Klaus ever the picture of elegance, strolled in like he owned the place—because, once upon a time, he had, looking up in amusement, his hands clasped neatly behind his back like a patient professor waiting for an unruly class to settle.

The mansion was alive with drunken laughter, the bass of the music thrumming beneath the floorboards, and the scent of alcohol, sweat, and cheap perfume thick in the air. It was a den of vice, a playground for those imbeciles.

The man of the hour finally arrived, swaggering forward with all the arrogance of a self-made king. Liam. Tall, broad-shouldered, and utterly convinced of his own importance. He had the look of a man who had never once been humbled in his life. That would change soon.

"Klaus!" Liam spread his arms wide, his voice booming over the crowd. "It's been a while, old friend!"

Friend. Oh, that was rich.

Liam threw an arm over Klaus's shoulder with the confidence of a man who believed himself to be untouchable. Around them, people started paying attention, eyes darting toward them like sharks sensing blood. Kuku and four other men—clearly awakened—flanked their supposed leader, standing like a wall of muscle and misplaced loyalty.

Liam's grin widened, feeding off the energy of his audience.

"Hey, everyone! This man right here—" He gestured grandly, as if presenting a prize. "This is Klaus Zakharov, the Smiling Man. Our... founder."

The words dripped with mockery, Klaus arched an eyebrow, his smirk growing as he tilted his head slightly.

"Am I now?" he mused, his voice smooth as silk, rich with amusement. "Charmed."

Liam chuckled, his grin wide and arrogant as he reached out and smacked the passing woman's ass. She flinched, forced a nervous smile, and hurried away, but Liam didn't even notice. His attention was on Klaus, his smirk full of smug amusement, like they were old friends sharing inside joke.

"Come, let's have fun," he said, winking. "You might need some female company. Loosen up a little, hmm?"

Klaus tilted his head, as if considering, then—without so much as a glance—plucked a glass of whisky from the hands of some unfortunate fool who was too terrified to protest.

"I must admit," Klaus murmured, rolling the whiskey in his glass, "I was pleasantly surprised when I heard about you. Truly, I appreciate the effort you've put into ruling my district." His smile sharp and unreadable, before tilting his head slightly. "But now that I'm here…" His eyes flicked to Liam's. "I've come to take it back, little prince."

Liam's smirk faltered for the briefest moment before he crossed his arms over his broad chest, feigning amusement.

"Prince? That's cute." His voice dropped slightly, warning lacing his words. "You can have my hospitality, enjoy yourself, drink, dance, fuck—hell, take some of the girls. But what's mine is mine. Not yours. Not anyone else's. I have power here." He took a step closer, his expression turning cold and mocking. "Im the king!"

Klaus let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head as if Liam had just told him the most amusing joke of the evening. He looked at him, a dark glint in his eyes as his smirk become colder.

"Yet," Klaus said smoothly, "you took something from my family. I don't like it when people steal from me, little Liam." He took a step forward, his voice threatening. "This… all of this—" he gestured lazily around them, his fingers twirling in the air, "—it's mine. The walls, the floors, the very air you breathe. And all of you?" His gaze flicked to the men surrounding Liam, the women, the servants, the guards. "Included."

One of Liam's men, thick-necked and brimming with aggression, surged forward and grabbed Klaus by the arm.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?!" he barked, his face twisted in rage. And then—he spit at Klaus.

The spit never reached Klaus. It froze mid-air, hanging in place like reality itself refused to let it touch him. Klaus glanced at Kuku and than at this guy. He didn't knew about Kuku but this one really failed at self-preservation. Klaus's expression darkened and then man's throat vanished in an explosion of blood and bone.

Klaus tore his throat out with a single, brutal motion. Blood gushed from the gaping wound, splattering across the floor, across the tables, across Liam. In Klaus's hand, he held not just flesh—but bone. The atlas and axis, the first two vertebrae, dangled from the shredded remains of the man's spine. The man jerked violently, his body spasming before he collapsed lifelessly.

The entire mansion went silent. The music was still playing, but it felt distant, drowned under the suffocating weight of what had just happened.

Klaus exhaled, rolling his shoulders as if bored. Then, he turned his gaze back to Liam, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"I'm giving you a week." he said with pleasant smile and pat Liam's shoulder. "Return everything and beg for forgiveness…"

His bloody hand reached out, grabbing a passing woman by the wrist. She froze in terror as he wiped his hand clean on the fabric of her dress, smearing it with crimson.

"…Or I will release you from your mortal coil."

He took step back, his finger on his lips as he smiled and vanished from place like he wasn't there in the first place.

___

Klaus sat on the rooftop, the city sprawling below him, cigarette lazily dangling between his fingers. The night air was cool, filled with the distant hum of life and crime. He exhaled a slow stream of smoke, holding his communicator to his ear.

"How's things on your end, love?" he asked, voice casual.

On the other side, Tatiana let out a sigh of deep, long-suffering annoyance. She held her communicator while standing completely naked, her expression unimpressed. In front of her, a man hung suspended in shimmering, silver threads—his body twitching as tears streamed down his decaying face. A Master, once proud, now rotting in her silk-like bindings.

"Hmmm?" Tatiana mused, glancing at him. "Well, he's had better days, I suppose. How's your little play? Do you want an Oscar?"

Klaus chuckled, shaking his head. Tatiana had already dealt with Liam's right-hand man. Efficient, as always. Meanwhile, Liam himself was still under the delusion that he had a choice.

"No need," he drawled. "Ahh… but little Liam will definitely choose the hard way." He took another drag of his cigarette, exhaling lazily. "Not that it matters. Dead or alive, they'll still be useful to me. Call Naoh, tell him to get ready. Notify Isaac and Diego too. It's been a while since the family made an appearance together, hmm?"

Tatiana clicked her tongue in irritation as she slipped into her clothes. Behind her, the man's body twitched one last time before collapsing—his flesh immediately set upon by a monstrous Echo. The creature, resembling a fox but far larger, stood over a meter and a half tall, its three heads snapping and tearing into the corpse.

"Sure," she muttered, adjusting her jacket. "I'm sure the district will be delighted. But you do realize that this is your fault, right? You're the genius who put Liam in charge when we left for South America." She deepened her voice, mimicking him mockingly, "Oh, he's arrogant, he's stubborn, prone to self-aggrandizement… he should fit in perfectly.""

Klaus inhaled deeply, sighing dramatically. So she still remembered that, huh? Tch.

"Forget that," he said quickly, waving it off. "We're wiping them out today. Let's give them a little surprise, shall we, sweetheart?"

Tatiana climbed into her PTV, her eye twitching.

"You said week. You backstabbing, lying bastard." she muttered. "I'm not doing anything like this again, got it? And you are going to return my stuff to me. Why the hell did you sell them?! That was a prank! I paid for them!" Her voice grew accusing. "It's not like I ruined your romantic life with your precious blind seer, right?"

Klaus's smirk grew devious, pure self-satisfaction radiating from him.

"Please." He flicked his cigarette away. "You've never paid for anything in your entire life, my favorite sibling."

Tatiana rolled her eyes, steering the PTV through the streets. "I fail to see how that's relevant." She grinned wickedly, then added in a sweetly mocking tone, "Anyway~ you really fell for Cassie, huh? Aww, Klaus, you poor thing. Maybe it'll do wonders for that stick that's been permanently lodged up in your enduringly stoic ass."

Klaus's mouth twitched.

Without hesitation, he loudly made exaggerated kissing noises into the communicator.

"Now now~" he cooed mockingly. "Do your job, my lovely sister."

And with that, he hung up, cutting her off mid-retort.

His smirk faded. He exhaled through his nose, muttering under his breath.

"Bitch."