The question hung between them like a blade waiting to fall. Klaus watched Nicholas process the challenge, expecting hesitation or nervous laughter—the typical response when someone realized they'd overstepped with empty threats.

Instead, Nicholas's eyes hardened.

"You want to test my resolve," Nicholas said, his voice steady as granite. "Fine. But understand what you're asking for."

Klaus tilted his head, intrigued despite himself. Most people would have backpedaled by now, offered excuses about not wanting to damage estate property or some other face-saving retreat. Nicholas showed no such inclination.

"I've faced apostles before," Nicholas continued, rising from his chair with fluid grace that spoke to trained muscle memory. "I know what they can do when fully unleashed. Cities turned to ash in minutes. Mountains carved like clay. Reality itself bent until it screams."

Interesting metaphors, Klaus thought. Almost like he's seen it firsthand.

"And you survived these encounters?" Klaus asked, genuinely curious now.

"Not always." The admission came without shame or bravado, just cold fact. "But surviving isn't the only measure of success when everything you love hangs in the balance."

You're basically admitting you died before, Klaus realized, studying Nicholas with new interest. The casual way he spoke of not surviving suggested experiences that shouldn't be possible for someone his age.

Nicholas stood, rolling his shoulders with the easy confidence of someone preparing for familiar work. "You want to know if I can back up my threats? I've spent lifetimes learning how to kill things that shouldn't be able to die."

Lifetimes, huh? Klaus thought, a small smile tugging at his lips. Either Nicholas was the most creative liar he'd ever met, or something far more interesting was happening here.

"Follow me," Klaus said, leading them toward a discrete door at the salon's far end. "This tower has something most residences lack."

They descended stone steps that spiraled deeper than seemed architecturally possible. The air grew cooler as they walked, carrying the weight of ancient stone and careful engineering. When they finally emerged into the training ground, Klaus heard Nicholas's sharp intake of breath.

The space was enormous—easily large enough for a hundred soldiers to maneuver without crowding. The ceiling soared overhead, supported by arches that spoke to masterful construction. But what made the room truly impressive were the walls themselves, built from dark stone that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it.

"Roman didn't assign me the Eastern Tower for isolation," Klaus explained, running his hand along one wall. "He chose it for this room. These walls can withstand transcendent power without cracking. The entire structure was built for family members whose abilities might... exceed normal parameters."

Klaus remembered the conversation where Roman had explained the tower's purpose. After Klaus awakened from the Icarus incident, his unstable aura had made him dangerous to be around. The Eastern Tower wasn't exile—it was sanctuary, designed to give him space to stabilize without risking others.

"Roman had this built?" Nicholas asked, clearly impressed despite himself.

"Generations ago. Apparently, powerful bloodlines occasionally produce children whose abilities require special accommodations." Klaus gestured to the vast space around them. "This is where I've been learning to control what I've become."

Nicholas walked to the center of the training ground, his movements taking on the focused quality of someone shifting mental gears from conversation to combat. When he turned back to Klaus, his expression had changed completely—gone was the curious young man asking probing questions, replaced by something harder and infinitely more dangerous.

"So," Nicholas said, his voice carrying new edge. "What are your terms?"

Klaus considered the question seriously. He wanted to test his enhanced capabilities against a real opponent, but he also needed to understand what Nicholas was truly capable of. The mystery surrounding the younger man's knowledge demanded investigation.

"Don't hold back," Klaus said, settling into a loose stance that emphasized his enhanced physique. "You win if you can force me to use anything beyond my physical abilities. No magic, no transcendent techniques—just enhanced strength and speed."

Perfect chance to see how my body performs after achieving the Singularity Principle, Klaus thought. The enhanced state theoretically made him superior to any normal human, but theory and practice often diverged in interesting ways.

Nicholas smiled, and for a moment something ancient flickered behind his young features. "You're really underestimating me."

The words carried weight that made Klaus pay closer attention. Whatever Nicholas had experienced, it had taught him confidence that transcended mere youthful bravado.

Eight lifetimes of failure, Nicholas thought as he reached for his weapon. But failure teaches lessons success never could.

The sword he drew made Klaus reassess everything about their impending confrontation. The blade appeared to be crafted from crystal—perfectly transparent yet clearly solid, catching the training ground's light and fracturing it into rainbow patterns that danced along the weapon's length. But the way Nicholas held it, the balance and weight distribution, spoke to metal enhanced far past normal limits.

"Beautiful work," Klaus observed, genuinely impressed by the craftsmanship.

"I forged it myself," Nicholas replied, adjusting his grip with the familiarity of long partnership. "Across multiple incarnations, you learn that standard weapons won't cut it against supernatural opponents."

Multiple incarnations. There it was again—casual reference to experiences that should be impossible. Klaus filed the information away for later consideration.

Nicholas moved into a combat stance that emphasized mobility over power, his crystal blade held with deadly intent. Despite the weapon's ethereal beauty, Klaus could sense something dangerous about it—properties that went far deeper than enhanced metallurgy.

"I should warn you," Nicholas said, his voice carrying new quality that made the spacious training ground feel suddenly intimate. "I don't fight fair when lives are at stake."

Klaus felt anticipation sharpen into focus. Finally, an opponent who might actually challenge his enhanced capabilities rather than simply testing their limits. Whatever Nicholas had learned across his mysterious past, it had clearly prepared him for exactly this type of confrontation.

"Neither do gods," Klaus replied, settling deeper into his stance.

Nicholas's smile turned predatory. "Good thing I specialize in killing those too."

The training ground fell silent except for the soft whisper of their breathing. Two young men faced each other across ancient stone, each representing forces that operated outside normal human understanding. One enhanced through cosmic transformation, the other shaped by experiences that defied rational explanation.

"First lesson," Nicholas said, his eyes analyzing Klaus's defensive posture with the systematic precision of someone who had studied enhanced opponents across multiple lifetimes. "Even gods can bleed if you know where to cut."