The flawless black sniper rifle rested securely against Klaus's shoulder.
It didn't feel like a piece of cold lifeless machinery forged in a factory.
It felt warm, thrumming with contained vitality.
The glowing white circuit carved into the side of the matte obsidian receiver pulsed with a slow rhythm, perfectly mimicking the heartbeat of the dire wolf whose soul was currently trapped inside it.
Klaus narrowed his silver eyes, staring down the scope.
The lens wasn't made of glass.
It was a direct spiritual interface tied into his divine core. When he looked through it, the howling blizzard and the pitch-black darkness of the Winterlands completely fell away.
The scope translated the physical world into a stark high-contrast landscape of thermal and spiritual signatures.
He could see the residual heat of the carriage tracks behind him, the ambient mana lingering in the air, and the sprawling frozen expanse of the tundra.
