"Mom! Hehehe, tell me — why did you name me Icarus?"
A beautiful woman looked down at her son, her smile soft as sunlight filtering through leaves, her eyes glowing with warmth and quiet sorrow. She tilted her head, as if remembering something distant and dear.
"Well… do you know the story behind your name?"
The boy shook his head eagerly, his bright eyes wide with curiosity. The woman laughed softly, her fingers threading through his hair, brushing it back with the tenderness only a mother could give.
"There's an ancient legend — the tale of Icarus and the sun. A boy who defied the sky itself, soaring on wings his father built. But the boy flew too high, too close to the burning sun. The wax holding his wings together melted, and he fell — down, down into the sea, never to rise again. His father, Daedalus, could not save him."
She paused for a moment, her smile turning wistful.
"Many people call it a cautionary tale — a warning against ambition, against reaching too far, too fast. But you know… I never saw it that way. I like to believe Icarus knew exactly what he was doing. That in that fleeting moment, when sunlight kissed his face and the wind screamed in his ears, he found something no one else ever would — a purpose so brilliant, so impossible, it was worth falling for."
The boy's mouth parted slightly, awed by the beauty of the story. But then he giggled, bright and innocent, as only a child could.
"Mom! I want to be like Icarus! I want to do something great — something impossible!"
Tears shimmered in the woman's eyes, though her smile never wavered. She knelt down, gathering him in her arms, holding him close as if trying to shield him from the very fate she spoke of. Her lips brushed his forehead, her voice a whisper full of both pride and heartbreak.
"Then fly, my darling. Fly higher than anyone ever has. And if you fall… never regret the flight. Never fear the sun. For the greatest tragedy is not to fall — but to live your whole life afraid of the sky."
---
A sharp hiss filled the silence as the sleeping pod opened, releasing a thin veil of cold mist into the air. A young man stirred within, sitting up with a slow, almost lazy yawn. His face was blank, expression hovering somewhere between boredom and quiet indifference.
The room around him was barren — stripped of comfort, stripped of personality. Just a narrow bed bolted to the wall, a single spoon, a chipped plate, a cloudy glass, and a knife with a dull edge. Nothing more. It felt less like a living space and more like a forgotten cell.
He stretched, joints popping like distant gunfire, before dragging himself to the small bathroom attached to the corner of the room. Water splashed over his face, droplets running down his pale skin like melted silver.
The mirror above the sink reflected a face both haunting and beautiful — too beautiful, really. Almost unnatural. Shoulder-length hair, black as ink, hung loosely around his face, framing sharp cheekbones and lips too perfect to belong to someone alive. His eyes, a deep, gleaming shade of amethyst, stared back with an unsettling calm. His skin was ghost-pale, almost translucent under the dim light.
But it was his body that told the real story. His arms were sleeved in dark tattoos — shattered chains wrapping around his flesh like shackles once broken. Across his chest, a black sun burned, devouring light itself. And on his back, an image both grotesque and mesmerizing: a headless angel with vast, broken wings, cradling her own severed head in trembling hands — her face frozen mid-weep.
The young man stared at himself for a moment longer. Than runes appeared in front of him, only visible to his own eyes.
Name: Icarus
True Name: Oldest Dream
Aspect Name: VoidWalker
Aspect Description:
You are a fool, a defiant spirit who challenges the impossible, knowing that the final outcome may be naught but an illusion.
Aspect Rank: Divine
Flaw: Madness of the Fool
You are the very antithesis of normal. A fool in the eyes of the ordinary.
Innate Ability:
Divine Eyes of Void
Rank: Awakened
Class: Devil
Void Cores: [4/7]
Void Fragments: 3724/4000
Attributes:
Flame of Divinity: Your soul is aflame with the light of divinity.
Mentor of Deceit: A master of lies and illusions, you weave falsehoods with such skill that even the truth becomes irrelevant in your wake.
Wisdom of Uriel: You analyze information at an unparalleled speed and possess a photographic memory, making you a walking library of forgotten knowledge.
Law of Original Sin: You are the embodiment of defiance itself, the Original Sin of rebellion that questions the very foundations of existence.
Cold-blooded: You act without hesitation, free from fear, lament, or worry.
Aspect Abilities:
Dormant: Limitless
You can control Space.
Awakened: Key of Light
You can open doors in fabric of space.
Klaus shook his head lazily, buttoning up his coat as the TV buzzed in the background. His eyes flickered briefly to the screen as an older woman spoke with a somber expression.
"Tens of Awakeneds lost for years in the Dream Realm have finally returned. We call them the survivors of the Forgotten Shore. These brave warriors managed to find their way back, and humanity is now stronger than ever. Among the most famous and powerful of these survivors are… Raised By Wolves, Lady Athena. Nightingale, Mr. Kai, the famous vocalist. A Song of Fallen, Lady Cassia... and Lady Changing Star, of the Immortal Flame Clan, who... tragically could not make it back. We've suffered a great loss. All we can do now is pray for her return."
Klaus smirked, his lips curling into a comically exaggerated grin. He tilted his head, feigning disbelief.
"...What a surprise…"
He flicked the remote, shutting off the TV with a swift motion, and in an instant, he vanished. One moment, he was in the room, the next, he stood high atop a building, gazing at the horizon. With a single step, he was inside an office — his presence as unexpected as ever.
Dressed in a sleek black suit, his hair lazily tied back in a messy knot, Klaus gave the woman across the room a casual look. She had raven-black hair, deep blue eyes, and pale, almost icy skin — a woman who looked like she never quite let go of the weight of her responsibilities.
"Been a while, Jet. Looks like things are spiraling out of control."
Jet didn't spare him more than a glance, letting out a heavy sigh that spoke volumes of the exhaustion weighing on her shoulders.
"How many times do I have to tell you, Klaus? Stop appearing in my office uninvited."
Klaus smiled, completely unperturbed. He raised his hands in mock surrender, his tone as playful as ever.
"Sorry, my bad. I'll be more considerate next time... if you'd just let me in without the theatrics, Soul Reaper."
He watched her, his eyes running over her form with deliberate slowness. His gaze lingered, his expression shifting to one of feigned seriousness.
"Did you gain weight? Your ass looks—"
Before he could finish his sentence, a blade shot toward him with blinding speed. It froze in midair just inches from his face, suspended by the invisible force of his Limitless ability. The blade began to float and spin in the air as he grabbed it, a smirk still playing on his lips. Nothing, absolutely nothing, escaped his Divine Eyes of Void.
Jet clicked her tongue in frustration. She stood up, grabbing her coat with a fluid motion.
"Let's go," she said curtly, turning her back on him without missing a beat.
He raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her sudden change in tone.
"Where to?"
Without looking back, she answered, her voice clipped.
"Awakened Academy."
Klaus's' eyes gleamed with mischievous amusement as he casually twirled the blade between his fingers. "Awakened Academy, huh? Interesting."
They arrived at the academy almost instantly — a flicker of light, a shift in space, and there they were. It barely took a minute or two. Teleporting two people across the city drained a decent chunk of essence, but Klaus didn't seem to care. As a Devil, he had more than enough to waste — and waste it he did, like a rich kid tossing coins into a fountain just to watch them sink.
"Hey, Jet…" His voice was mockingly sweet. "Are we here to roll out the red carpet for the brave little survivors of the Forgotten Shore? What a cute bunch."
Jet ignored him at first, too tired to engage. But something told her — that gut-deep instinct you develop when dealing with Klaus — that the bastard was already up to something. She glanced back, narrowing her eyes.
Sure enough, Klaus stood there, hands in his pockets, radiating self-satisfaction. His fingers twitched slightly — and that's when she saw it.
Using his Limitless ability with all the grace of a child discovering a new toy, Icarus was manipulating a stream of liquid from the nearest bathroom. Jet's mind stalled for a second, needing a moment to process the sheer absurdity of what she was seeing. The bastard was making piss float out of the toilet, weaving it through the air like a golden ribbon, before sneaking it into some poor boy's pants.
The unfortunate victim, a young Awakened standing among the new arrivals, suddenly froze in horror as a dark stain spread down his leg. Whispers broke out immediately.
Klaus stood proudly beside her, his grin stretched ear to ear, eyes gleaming with pure, unapologetic mischief — as if he had just performed some legendary feat of magic rather than high-tier bathroom vandalism.
Jet dragged a hand down her face.
"Why," she muttered under her breath, "why do I even bother."
Desperate for distraction, she checked her communicator, pulling up a file she had reviewed countless times before.
Name: Klaus
True Name: ???
Aspect: ???
Surname: ???
Age: 23
Place of Birth: ???
Current Residence: ???
Professions: Dream Realm Explorer, Mercenary, Scientist, weapon specialist, Scholar.
Parents: ???
Relatives: ???
History: ???
She sighed heavily. Typical. Half his life was censored, and the other half was tangled in so many classified files it might as well be myth. That bastard has more secrets than anyone I've ever met, she thought. And yet, when things went to hell, when the impossible was the only option left…
At least he always showed up.
"Hey." Klaus leaned over her shoulder, his breath way too close for comfort. "You reading my fan mail? You know, you could just ask for an autograph."
Jet elbowed him in the ribs — hard — and started walking.
"Let's go, clown."
Klaus rubbed his side, still grinning. "Thank you for compliment, my lady dearest."
Jet didn't reply. She didn't need to. She knew him well enough to understand one thing — under all the obnoxious humor, the foolishness, the sheer chaos he spread wherever he went…
There was a reason nobody knew exactly what he was fully capable of. Not even her.