Gods & Mortals

Klaus opened his eyes as he arrived in Higher World, the throbbing headache from the transportation immediately making its presence known; a sensation he hadn't experienced in quite some time. Clutching his head, he acknowledged that his weakened state would require him to retrain his body back to its former condition. But for now, he had a more pressing objective.

Standing in the epicenter of the Exalted City, Klaus scanned his surroundings with one purpose: to find XVII. If anyone could arrange a meeting with his father, XVII would have the necessary connections and information. 

Klaus wandered through the city streets, his sharp gaze sweeping the familiar yet distant sights. Along the way, he spotted Mia and Tyler seated on a bench, engrossed in conversation. Their laughter halted as they caught sight of him, their expressions shifting from surprise to concern.

"Klaus?" Mia questioned, her shock evident. "Oh wow, it really is you."

Her eyes immediately fell on his altered appearance; his longer, untamed hair and gaunt figure. Concern flickered across her face as she studied him. 

"You don't... look so good, though," she murmured, her voice softer now. 

"I'm fine," Klaus replied, brushing aside her observation with his usual brevity. "Do you know where I can find XVII?" 

Tyler chimed in, "Last I saw, he was near the Arena of Valor." 

"Thanks," Klaus said curtly before turning on his heel, his focus fixed on the arena's direction.

Mia and Tyler exchanged a quiet glance, unsure of how to respond to his abruptness. Klaus saw no reason to linger; his mission was clear, and time was not a luxury he could afford. He started to walk away, but Tyler's voice halted him mid-step. 

"Hey, Klaus," Tyler called, urgency lacing his tone. "Do you mind sparing a few moments?" 

"I'm kind of in a hurry," Klaus replied without looking back, his eyes locked on the path ahead.

But before he could continue, Tyler pressed on. "Please," he persisted. "It's important." 

Klaus exhaled a frustrated sigh and turned back to meet Tyler's gaze. The seriousness in his friend's eyes gave him pause. Despite his impatience, Klaus couldn't bring himself to ignore the plea. 

"Fine," he relented, his tone heavy with reluctance. 

As Klaus approached, Tyler exchanged a silent look with Mia. Catching on, Mia rolled her eyes in exaggerated frustration. 

"Urghhh, fine," she groaned, rising from the bench. "I'll leave you two to your 'important' talk."

She wandered off toward the cafeteria, muttering under her breath. Tyler waited until he was out of earshot before turning back to Klaus. A moment of silence passed between them, the weight of unspoken words filling the air. Finally, Tyler spoke.

"I wanna start by asking how you're really doing," Tyler began, his voice steady but edged with concern.

"I said I'm fine," Klaus replied curtly, holding firm to his earlier statement.

"Look," Tyler pressed on, "I know the pain you've been going through this past month, and I get that you're probably tired of hearing people ask by now. But I also know that no one who's asked truly understands the pain you're carrying. At least not like I do."

He paused, his gaze drifting ahead as he sat on the bench beside Klaus. The two mirrored each other in posture, their shared grief palpable in the quiet. "Avalon was one of my best friends," Tyler continued, his words softening but weighted with emotion, drawing Klaus' full attention. "Ever since we started Wallpaper, she was nothing but fun to be around. Her life wasn't bad, but it wasn't exactly great either. That's why she started doing graffiti; to find peace in creating art. But the day you joined us, I saw how much happier she became."

Klaus blinked, caught off guard by the memory. He had forgotten that Tyler had known Avalon long before he did. Tyler took a breath, organizing his thoughts before speaking again.

"She always smiled when your name came up in our conversations," Tyler said, a faint, fleeting smile crossing his face. "It was so obvious how much she liked you."

The smile faded as quickly as it had appeared. Tyler lowered his voice. "She was like a sister to me," he murmured, almost to himself. "And I know how much you meant to her. I know how much joy you brought into her life before she..." His voice trailed off, leaving the sentence incomplete.

Silence filled the space between them, heavy and unrelenting. Tyler's struggle to maintain his composure wasn't lost on Klaus, who recognized this moment as something deeper than the usual expressions of condolence. This wasn't just someone saying they were sorry, it was a raw, shared loss.

Finally, Tyler turned his gaze back to Klaus, his sorrow evident. "I know you've probably heard this from someone else before now," Tyler said, his tone earnest. "But for what my words are worth... I want to say I'm sorry for your loss."

Klaus was moved in a way he hadn't expected. The weight of Tyler's words, coming from someone who had been as close to Avalon as he had, hit differently.

"I could say the same to you," Klaus replied after a beat, acknowledging the mutual pain they carried. "I wasn't the only one who lost someone dear."

Tyler nodded, his eyes lowering as they grew heavier with unshed tears. "I guess you're right," he said quietly.

For a few moments, neither spoke. The silence wasn't awkward; it was understanding, a shared respite in their grief. Eventually, Klaus rose to his feet.

"I still have something I need to do," he said. "But I really needed to hear your words. Thank you."

Hearing Tyler's perspective, knowing someone else had been deeply affected by Avalon's death, eased Klaus' loneliness, if only slightly. He offered a faint nod before turning to leave.

But Tyler wasn't finished. "By the way," he called out, his voice retaining a sorrowful tone, "her funeral was a beautiful service, even though it was a closed casket."

The comment stopped Klaus in his tracks.

"I found peace in my mourning that day," Tyler continued. "And I know you're still searching for something like that. So maybe you should consider meeting with her parents. It could help you in your healing journey."

Klaus stood frozen, his heart heavier than ever. "I'll... consider it," he managed to say, his voice strained as he fought to keep his emotions at bay.

Without another word, he turned and walked away, his steps slower and heavier than before.

The haunting memory of Avalon's mutilated body flashed in his mind, a sight he had tried desperately to forget. He quickened his pace, forcing the image back into the recesses of his mind as he approached the Arena of Valor.

Inside the arena, Klaus found XVII. Wasting no time, he asked if he could meet with his father, Sol. XVII nodded and assured him that he would relay the request to the gods. After a few moments, XVII instructed Klaus to head to the transportation podium, where Sol awaited his presence in the meeting room within the domain of the gods.

Since Klaus had previously visited the domain of the gods, he was already familiar with its coordinates. After offering XVII a brief word of thanks, Klaus activated his Burst Speed ability. In the blink of an eye, he reached the epicenter of his destination, a revelation that his ability functioned just as effectively in Higher World. Without hesitation, he stepped onto the transportation podium and was immediately transported to the gods' domain.

Upon his arrival, Klaus navigated through the pristine expanse until he arrived at the meeting room where, upon entry, his surroundings seemed to stretch into infinity; a pure white void that enveloped the entire space. At the center of the room stood Sol, his presence unmistakable. The god turned slightly, acknowledging Klaus' entry with a steady, piercing gaze.

"Hello, Klaus," Sol began, his voice carrying a weight.

The power in Sol's words was palpable, as expected of a god, but it didn't cause Klaus to kneel. Perhaps it was Sol's familiarity with the demigods or, rather, a testament to Klaus' growing strength. Regardless of the reason, Klaus held his ground, his silence cutting through the air as he walked deeper into the room.

The door behind him closed with a faint echo, sealing their meeting. Klaus stopped a few steps away from Sol, his sharp eyes betraying his simmering anger as he locked onto his father's gaze.

"Hello, father," Klaus replied.

"How have you been?" Sol asked, his tone measured, an attempt to defuse the tension radiating from his son.

Klaus exhaled sharply, his frustration evident. "Why ask a question you already know the answer to?" he countered, his voice tinged with irritation. "Don't you see all of reality at once?"

Sol remained composed despite the rising anger in Klaus' words. He recognized the resentment but knew it was his responsibility to answer the questions his son carried.

"That is not true for you and the other demigods," Sol explained calmly. "As I said during our last meeting, the gods are no longer permitted to observe any of you. Your destinies are your own, and to respect your privacies, we chose to forgo surveillance entirely."

Klaus furrowed his brow, processing the information. He had understood this in passing, but not to the extent Sol described. Still, he kept his emotions in check.

"Is that the same reasoning you used to justify not interfering during the crisis a month ago?" Klaus said, his voice now edged with anger.

The question hung in the air, catching Sol's attention. He glanced at Klaus, his expression momentarily unreadable. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Klaus stepped closer, his voice gaining intensity. "The crisis that nearly wiped out the human race," he said. "If not for the few of us left on Earth, countless more lives would have been lost. And yet, you gods chose to remain idle here in Higher World."

The anger in Klaus' voice was unmistakable now, and Sol could see the deep resentment his son held for the gods' inaction.

"What I want to know," Klaus continued, his words sharp and unwavering, "is why the gods; the so-called protectors of humanity; chose to abandon the very beings they once saved from extinction. The ones you swore to protect."

Sol's eyes softened as he listened, feeling the weight of Klaus' pain in every word. He was going to provide clarity but knew the answer would not be easy for Klaus to accept.

"It's not that simple, Klaus," Sol said quietly, his tone tinged with regret.

"Why?" Klaus demanded, his voice rising. "Why is it not simple? I need to understand why beings who claim to possess infinite power and wisdom, the pinnacle of existence, chose to stand by and watch humanity suffer."

"Because we swore an oath," Sol exclaimed, meeting Klaus' piercing gaze. "We swore never to interfere with humanity again."

Klaus narrowed his eyes, unimpressed by the explanation. "That still doesn't answer my question," he retorted. "There is no punishment for a god who breaks their oath. So why did you choose to uphold it? Why did you watch as humanity suffered?"

Sol's expression shifted, his features softening with a mix of sorrow and resolve. He took a breath, his voice lowering as he began to explain.

"Because if a god lacks morality and becomes too great to respect their own oaths," Sol said, his tone somber, "then there is no force in reality that could bind their absolute power. And absolute power corrupts absolutely. Trust me... I know."

There was a gravity in Sol's words that Klaus couldn't ignore. The god's expression darkened, his gaze distant as though recalling a memory too heavy to share. Klaus, though unsatisfied with the answer, sensed there was more to it than he understood. Despite his frustration, he couldn't shake the feeling that this conclusion was rooted in something far greater than himself.

Klaus stood in silence for a while after Sol's response, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. Yet, he found himself reluctantly accepting his father's words. Despite his frustration with the gods and their perceived inaction, Klaus couldn't shake the sense that Sol was being truthful.

He had never spent any meaningful time with his father, divine or not, and therefore had no foundation to judge Sol's character. But he understood that the gods, by their very nature, might have reasons beyond human comprehension for binding themselves to their oaths.

Still, Klaus couldn't absolve the gods entirely. "What about foresight?" he asked suddenly, his voice breaking the silence and pulling Sol's attention back to him.

"What about it?" he responded.

"If I'm to accept that you gods cannot interfere directly with humanity," Klaus began, "then I also know that we demigods are an exception to that rule since we share in divinity. And if gods are truly infinite in their capabilities, foresight should certainly be within your grasp, correct?"

"That is correct," Sol affirmed.

"Then you must have known the crisis was coming," Klaus pressed. "So why didn't you warn us? Why didn't you at least inform the demigods so we could prevent it from happening in the first place?"

Klaus' questions hung in the air, their weight undeniable. They were the kind of questions that demanded answers. Yet Sol, having anticipated this line of reasoning, felt a pang of regret. The truth he had to offer was unlikely to bring Klaus the satisfaction he sought.

"That isn't how foresight works," Sol said at last. "While it's true that foresight allows us to glimpse the future, it does not offer a single, definitive vision. It reveals only one possibility... one among an infinite number of outcomes."

Klaus blinked, caught off guard. "That doesn't make any sense," he said, his voice tinged with disbelief. "If it's that unreliable, then what's the point of having such an ability at all?"

"You're not wrong," Sol replied, nodding slightly. "The value of foresight is, at best, minimal. That is why we do not use it."

Sensing Klaus' confusion, Sol decided to elaborate. "Time," he began, "is like a vast tree with an endless number of branches, each representing a possible outcome. Even those branches have branches of their own. The farther you ascend the tree, the more branches you encounter. Now imagine an ant starting at the base of the tree, climbing endlessly upward. The odds of another ant following the exact same path and arriving at the same branch are one in infinity. That's how foresight works."

Klaus listened carefully, his initial frustration giving way to understanding. Sol's analogy was vivid, making the complexity, and futility, of foresight clear. Slowly, Klaus began to grasp why the gods hadn't warned them. The realization softened his expression, even if it didn't entirely ease his lingering resentment.

Sol, watching his son closely, noticed the subtle shift in his demeanor. He understood that while Klaus might not be fully satisfied, the explanation had given him some clarity. More than anything, Sol sensed that Klaus wasn't truly seeking answers, he was looking to absolve himself of the blame he had placed on the gods for humanity's suffering.

Breaking the silence, Sol spoke again. "I understand that you lost someone you loved," he said, his tone filled with quiet empathy.

Klaus didn't respond, but his eyes lowered, his silence confirming Sol's words.

"From what I can see," Sol continued softly, "you cared for her deeply... more than you care for yourself."

Sol's expression grew pensive, his gaze distant for a moment. "I know that feeling," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Caring so much about someone and never having the chance to be by their side again. Except in my case, I still have the privilege of seeing her, even if only from afar."

Stepping closer, Sol placed a hand gently on Klaus' shoulder, his divine presence tempered by the weight of his fatherly concern. To see his son in this state struck him profoundly.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Sol said at last, his voice sincere, his gaze steady as he watched Klaus, who kept his eyes fixed downward in silent grief.

The silence stretched between them, heavy and unbroken, until Klaus finally spoke, his voice trembling with sorrow. "Is there any way I can see her again?" he whispered, his words almost inaudible. "Even if it's just to say goodbye."

The question carried the weight of his lingering regret. Avalon's passing haunted him deeply, not only because of her loss but because he had arrived too late. Her final breath had escaped before he could reach her, before he could speak his heart one last time or offer her a proper farewell. The thought gnawed at him relentlessly.

Sol studied Klaus in silence, his expression grim as he prepared to deliver an answer he knew would bring no solace. "Not in any way that would be ethical," Sol said softly. "It would be like desecrating her grave. And trust me… it's not worth it."

Klaus lowered his head, his shoulders slumping under the weight of Sol's response. He loved Avalon too much to taint her memory that way, even if it meant living with the pain of never saying goodbye.

"I know these answers aren't what you wanted to hear," Sol said gently after a pause. "And I wish there were a way to ease your pain. Even if you resent me and the other gods, the one piece of advice I can give you… is to properly mourn her."

The words struck a chord. Klaus recalled Riley telling him the same thing, urging him to grieve instead of letting his anger consume him. If Sol was truthful about the gods no longer watching over the demigods, then it meant Riley had come to that conclusion on her own.

Though Klaus had trusted Riley initially, a part of him had still clung to the notion that the gods were to blame. That lingering doubt had led him here, seeking closure.

After a long silence, Klaus finally looked up. "I'm sorry for my arrogance," he said softly.

Sol's expression softened with a hint of surprise. "You don't have to be," he replied with a small smile. "If I were in your place, I'd have done the same."

The tension between them eased slightly, and the two spoke for a time. Then, a flicker of anger returned to Klaus, his expression darkened as he remembered something critical. 

"What about… her?" Klaus asked, his voice edged with simmering rage.

Sol's gaze sharpened, instantly understanding. "You mean the demon girl," he said, referring to Xhin. "She is currently held in a secure facility in Under World. Her actions were... peculiar. The queen decided not to make the situation public to avoid unnecessary controversy."

"So she's still alive," Klaus said, his voice low and cold.

Sol could feel the intensity of his son's hatred, the barely restrained fury that burned within him. He spoke with measured calm, hoping to ease Klaus' ire. "Do not worry, my son. Justice will be served. I promise you that. Even if it means I must intervene personally."

Though Sol's words were sincere, they did little to satisfy Klaus. The thought of Xhin still breathing, after everything she had done, was almost unbearable. Klaus had never felt hatred before, but for her, it went beyond anything he could articulate. He wanted to be the one to deliver her punishment; to end her existence with his own hands.

But even as the thought consumed him, he forced himself to let it go, knowing it wouldn't bring Avalon back. Revenge was hollow, and deep down, he understood that; at least for now.

After talking with Sol for a little while longer, Klaus finally prepared to leave. "I still have a few things to take care of," he said. "And people to thank for standing by me. So… this is goodbye for now."

"No worries," Sol replied with a nod. "I understand."

As Klaus made his way toward the door, Sol called out to him once more, a small smile forming on his face. "Say hello to Natalie for me," he said, his voice warm. "And tell her that her skin has never looked more beautiful."

Klaus was puzzled by the remark but chose not to question it. With a nod, he bid Sol farewell and left, the door closing softly behind him. Moments later, Klaus returned to the Exalted City.

Upon his return, Klaus lingered in silence, lost in thought. He mulled over the events of the past month and the people he'd left behind. His absence must have weighed on some of them, and he wondered if it was time to reach out and let them know he was fine. The notion of caring what others thought of him was new, and it unsettled him in its quiet way. 

Not so long ago, Klaus wouldn't have given it a second thought. Back then, the only opinions that mattered were those of his family. But now, he found himself concerned about what even the other demigods might feel, amused and perplexed by this newfound awareness. It didn't take long for the realization to hit him: this change, this unfamiliar compassion, was because of Avalon. 

Avalon had opened his heart in ways he hadn't known were possible. She had taught him how to smile, to laugh, to cherish the company of others. In her presence, he'd found a version of himself he never thought existed.

He acknowledged that Avalon wasn't the only one who had shaped him; Rose had played her part too. But with Avalon, it felt different; like she had redefined him as a person. 

Before he could dwell further, the sound of approaching footsteps broke his reverie. Turning, Klaus spotted Lance and Arthur walking toward him. They had just arrived in Higher World, and as Lance caught sight of him, a broad grin spread across his face. 

"Ah, Walker!" Lance called out cheerfully. "How have you been? I haven't seen you since the crisis." 

Klaus noted the easy confidence in Lance's tone, and it was clear that he wasn't aware of the situation with Avalon and Klaus' isolation. Lance's next words confirmed it. 

"You know," Lance continued, "I'm just glad you guys were able to save as many humans as possible and keep the casualties so low. That was impressive." 

Arthur froze, his eyes widening as Lance spoke. "Uhh, brother…" Arthur muttered, leaning closer to whisper something hurriedly in Lance's ear. 

Lance's smile faltered. His eyes widened in shock as Arthur's words sank in. He turned back to Klaus, his expression morphing into one of awkward remorse. 

"A-Ahh… my apologies, Walker," Lance stammered, his tone softer than prior. "I was not aware." 

"It's fine," Klaus replied evenly, his face unreadable. 

Lance hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with his earlier statement. But before he could say more, Klaus cut him off. 

"You don't need to feel bad," Klaus said firmly. "You didn't know." 

"Still..." Lance hesitated softly. "My condolences."

Klaus gave a small nod, attempting to end the conversation. Sensing the tension, Arthur decided to intervene. 

"Let's get going, brother," Arthur said. 

"Ah, yes," Lance agreed. 

As the two began to walk away, Arthur suddenly paused and turned back toward Klaus. "We may not see eye to eye, Walker," he said gruffly, "but I'm glad to see you standing strong." 

It wasn't a particularly warm sentiment, but Klaus recognized it as the kindest thing Arthur had ever said to him. He remained quiet, offering a subtle nod of acknowledgment as Arthur turned and followed after Lance. 

Klaus stood there for a moment longer, his thoughts swirling. The weight of exhaustion pressed heavily on him, the sleepless nights and endless strain of the past month during his isolation catching up all at once. What he needed now was sleep; real, uninterrupted sleep. 

With that resolve, Klaus made his way to the transportation podium, eventually returning to Earth.