The two men had long vanished, yet Klaus remained where they'd left him, rooted in place, still staring down the path.
Behind him, Hannah scoffed, arms folded tightly across her chest.
"What a load of nonsense," she said "You have until tomorrow,'" she mimicked mockingly. "Who the hell does he think he is, giving us ultimatums?"
Klaus didn't turn to face her. His expression was distant, pensive. Then he finally spoke.
"Is everything a joke to you?" he asked. "Do you not realize what kind of men those were… or the kind of trouble you've got us in?"
"I got us in? She snarled "If you hadn't interfered both then and now he would have been dead and they would have been none the wiser bringing a satisfying closing to this chapter of our lives."
"Will you never take any responsibility for your actions?" he asked.
As usual, his words fell on deaf ears as Hannah waved him off. "If you're that concerned, we'll just gather our guards. No matter who they are, they'll be vastly outnumbered. They won't try anything stupid."
Klaus shook his head slowly in disbelief.
"You really don't understand," he muttered.
Without another word, he stepped away and made his way to the stables. Moments later, he mounted a horse and rode off toward the town, leaving Hannah and their meaningless conversation standing in the doorway, fuming in silence.
----
Klaus didn't return until well into the night. He had spent the entire day digging through records, bribing informants, and questioning dockworkers. Piece by piece, he put together the truth—confirming the identity of the man named Montague, the infamous slaver of the Zong. He learned of the ship's bloody history and its suspected destination far across the sea.
While Klaus was gathering knowledge, Hannah took a different path. She spent the night barking orders, mobilizing every armed man and mercenary on her payroll, preparing their estate for a siege that she still didn't believe would come.
But Klaus… Klaus had gone somewhere else.
In the attic, thick with dust and cobwebs, he searched through old trunks and forgotten remnants of his past. At last, he found what he was looking for—an aged, wooden chest-worn and decrepit. Its hinges creaked as he opened it.
Inside was a set of light armor, weathered but sturdy, its steel chestplate engraved with the head of a wolf—the symbol of the Fenrir empire. He ran his fingers over the engraving before donning the armor piece by piece until the chest was empty.
Then, he sat near the window with a grindstone in one hand and his sword in the other. With slow, steady strokes, he sharpened the blade long into the night.
He didn't sleep. He didn't speak.
He only waited—for the brothers, for the break of dawn.
----
The sun had risen from its slumber, at the crack of dawn Hannah's guards were already in full battle mode—armor on, blades drawn, forming ranks under her command. Yet Klaus had no intention of allowing violence to reach his home.
Instead, he stood alone, far down the road that led to the estate wanting in silence for his visitors.
Hours passed, and the sun climbed steadily above until it sat directly overhead. Then, as promised, two hooded figures appeared, walking up the road. At a certain distance from Klaus, they stopped—then, without a word, lowered their hoods.
Troy's cheerful face was expressionless, while Titan's massive form loomed like a mountain behind him.
Klaus didn't allow them to speak first.
"He's aboard a slave ship called The Zong," Klaus said firmly. "Its captain is a man named Montague and according to the information I gathered, the ship is due to return next spring to replenish its slave numbers. You can wait until then or try your luck tracking it through other ports."
The two men exchanged a glance.
Now with that said I've done what you asked," Klaus continued. "So now we're even. I don't want to see either of you near my home or my family ever again."
Troy chuckled. It started as a quiet scoff but quickly grew louder and louder. He pressed a hand to his face as his eyes began to glow faintly from between his fingers.
"Even?" Troy repeated, his voice filled with disbelief. "You think this… this makes us even?"
"Seventeen years ago, your life was spared under one condition—that he would be kept safe. The safest place, we all agreed, was under the enemy's nose… the last place anyone would think to look. That was the deal."
He lowered his hand, and his glowing eyes bore into Klaus.
"And yet… you made him a slave."
Klaus snapped back,
"To save his life! That's far more than you or your mistress have ever done!"
Troy's face twitched. "Save his life?" he whispered, barely containing his fury. "Ships like the Zong don't return with their human cargo. It's a one way journey to hell. Every voyage is a drawn-out execution. And by the coming spring, Lucian—and every other soul aboard that ship….will be dead."
Before Klaus could respond, a deep, thunderous voice interrupted.
"Enough chatter."
For the first time, Titan spoke. His voice powerful and thundering.
"There's no need for a debate, as far as i see it a price must be paid by Your wife… or your daughter."
Hearing those words Klaus stepped forward, drawing his sword in one fluid motion and pointed a Titan
"You won't lay a hand on my family," he growled.
Titan stepped forward, cracking his massive knuckles as he moved.
"You were a commoner," Titan said while recounting past events. "Raised up by your deeds in battle. Given land, title, a noblewoman's hand. But seventeen years ago, you were wounded and on a mission, your entire squad was slaughtered. Yet you returned alone, broken. You were stripped of your land, of your influence, the same people who once praised you now laugh and mocks at the very mention of your name."
Titan's stared at him with pity and contempt.
"I wonder… how much of that warrior remains in the relic standing before me?"
Klaus let out a shout, slamming his foot into the ground. The earth cracked beneath him, shards of stone erupting upward. Then with a burst of motion, he charged forward, dragging the tip of his blade along the ground in a trail of sparks.
Titan stood his ground, bracing for a heavy blow—but it didn't come.
At the last second, Klaus heaved his sword that was in the dirt, flinging debris into Titan's face. Titan recoiled, momentarily blinded.
Seizing the opportunity, Klaus shifted his stance into a piercing form and launched a flurry of precise thrusts toward Titan's torso. The massive man, but even blinded he twisted his body with uncanny reflexes for his size —dodging nearly all the strikes.
All but one.
A single thrust grazed Titan's arm, drawing a thin line of blood.
Titan roared.
He sidestepped Klaus's next lunge and prepared a devastating counterblow. But before the strike could materialize as if instinctively, Klaus vanished—reappearing several meters away, sword raised and breathing steady.
Titan's eyes widened slightly.
[BLINK].
The thought echoed in his mind.
Blink-A rare, short-range movement skill—fast and precise that transport the user a short distance.