Hawk clawed at Fenrir’s wrist, his face red as he wheezed.
"L-let go... I said I’d help you!"
Fenrir’s expression didn’t change. His grip remained steady, fingers like a vice.
"You’ll be free, but only after you sign sothing."
He said coolly,
Hawk’s struggling paused.
"...Sign what?"
Fenrir’s eyes glead faintly with magic as a shimring contract appeared in the air beside him—a pact wrapped in glowing runes, binding and absolute.
"An agreent. If you betray or speak of to anyone without permission, you’ll die. Instantly."
Hawk stared at the floating docunt, his mouth opening slightly in protest.
"Seriously? Isn’t this a little extre?"
"Then walk away, and I’ll assu you’re already planning to betray ."
Fenrir said, tilting his head, his voice dripping with mock generosity.
Hawk’s annoyance turned to reluctant defeat. He scowled, snatched the floating pen from the air, and muttered.
"You’re a real piece of work..."
Before scribbling his na on the contract.
The mont the last stroke of his na was complete, the docunt shimred gold and vanished into particles. Fenrir released his grip and stepped back.
"There. Happy?"
Hawk muttered, massaging his neck again.
Fenrir sat down calmly.
"Now, talk."
Hawk sighed and leaned forward, his tone now tinged with resignation.
"Alright. You wanna leave this floor? Good luck. This whole place is locked down by a man nad Edwain. Big, cruel bastard with a lot of underlings. He’s the reason no one gets out without paying."
"Edwain. And who put him in charge?"
Fenrir repeated flatly.
"That would be Lady Zephra."
The na made Fenrir frown, sothing flickering behind his eyes.
"Zephra..."
"You don’t know who she is? Have you been living under a rock or sothing?"
Hawk said, his brow furrowing in disbelief.
Fenrir turned to him slowly with a blank stare that made Hawk imdiately regret his tone.
"Sorry—uh, forget I said that. Anyway, Lady Zephra’s a big shot. She’s one of the few people in the tower who has actually seen the gods and lived to tell the tale. After the war with the Tyrant ended, she was the one who handed out the punishnts. Word is, she personally locked up so of the biggest war criminals."
Hawk adjusted his collar nervously.
Fenrir’s eyes narrowed.
"She’s also the daughter of Lord Zerg."
Hawk added.
That na landed like a stone.
"...Zerg?"
Fenrir asked, his voice quiet.
"Yeah. Zerg. You know him?"
Hawk asked, sensing sothing shift.
The mory ca crashing back into Fenrir’s mind like an avalanche. Zerg—the fifth commander.
Once a loyal and brilliant strategist under his command. He wasn’t just a powerful ally; he was one of the few trusted to command independently during the peak of the war.
Zerg... the man who stood by his side when kingdoms burned. The one who vowed to never betray him.
And now, his daughter was running amok in the Tower, locking floors down and hoarding power?
Fenrir sat back slowly, the pieces beginning to align in his mind.
"I rember now."
Hawk blinked.
"So... you do know him?"
Fenrir didn’t answer.
His thoughts were racing too quickly.
Zerg’s betrayal—or perhaps sothing more complicated—had led to this.
The daughter of one of his most trusted subordinates now held power in the Tower. And worse, she was connected to the ones who imprisoned him.
Fenrir let out a dry chuckle, eyes narrowing with amusent as he muttered to himself.
"So the daughter-headed fool got betrayed by his own blood in the end."
He leaned back in his seat, arms crossed as his smile deepened.
The image of Zerg—the ever-loyal fifth commander—kneeling before him in a ti of war flashed across his mind.
Zerg had always been sharp, dependable, if a bit too soft when it ca to his daughter.
And now that very daughter had apparently tossed him aside and taken control of the Tower’s power structure for herself.
But if Fenrir knew Zerg, then he was sure of one thing.
Zerg was still alive.
Zephra wouldn’t have killed her father.
No, not unless she was willing to give up the knowledge and insight Zerg had about the Tower and the war.
And if she was managing the 10th floor, chances were, Zerg was being held sowhere nearby. Alive. Possibly even cooperating.
A small glint of interest lit Fenrir’s eyes.
Across the table, Hawk shifted uneasily. He had been watching Fenrir’s changing expressions with growing concern.
There was sothing about the way this man smiled—a cold amusent that chilled Hawk’s spine.
He wanted to ask questions, dig deeper, maybe even guess who Fenrir really was. But sothing in his gut warned him not to. So he stayed silent.
The more he thought about it, the more it burned.
"Is she still on this floor?"
Fenrir asked.
Hawk shook his head.
"Nah. Zephra doesn’t dirty her hands anymore. She has guys like Edwain doing her work for her. If you want out, you need to pay a toll, or take the brute down. But trust , Edwain’s no pushover. He’s strong. Real strong. And he’s got the floor’s permission system under his control."
Breaking the silence himself, Fenrir glanced back at Hawk.
"Where is Zephra right now?"
Hawk flinched slightly but answered quickly,
"Tenth floor. She’s been given full control of it by the higher-ups in the Tower. Word is, it’s beco sothing of a fortress under her."
Fenrir’s smile widened.
"Good. I’ll see her soon, then. And Zerg too."
Hawk looked at him, confused.
"You an...?"
"I an, I’m done waiting. I’m taking this floor by force."
Fenrir said, standing up,
Hawk didn’t reply.
He didn’t know what to say.
Standing up, Fenrir stretched slightly, his movents smooth and unhurried.
"That’s enough talking. Show the way to the next floor. I’ve wasted enough ti."
"R-right."
Hawk stamred, getting to his feet.
The two exited the restaurant and made their way toward the passageway leading to the higher levels.
As expected, a squad of guards stood blocking the path—likely Edwain’s n, watching for anyone trying to slip through without permission.
Hawk slowed nervously, but Fenrir didn’t.
Without breaking stride, he moved forward and in the blink of an eye, three guards collapsed around him, unconscious or worse. The rest scattered without even attempting to fight.
Hawk stood there, stunned.
"...You didn’t even hesitate."
Fenrir turned back briefly.
"They were in the way."
They continued up the stairs, now unobstructed.
"But what if stronger people co after you? You just took down guards from Edwain’s personal force. They’ll retaliate. You’re not worried they’ll catch you?"
Hawk asked, finally speaking the fear that had been growing in his chest.
Fenrir stopped walking and looked at him, a tired sigh escaping his lips.
"Should I be?"
"...Yeah. They’ll hunt you. You might get killed."
Hawk said honestly.
But Fenrir only shook his head, his voice low and calm.
"I’ll be long gone before they even figure out what hit them."
Hawk stared at Fenrir’s back as they ascended the stairs, a cold sweat running down his spine.
There was sothing in the man’s voice—an eerie certainty, a calm arrogance—that made Hawk believe every word.
This wasn’t just so overpowered wanderer. This was soone with a history, soone who had walked through blood and fire and co out smiling.
"You really aren’t from around here, are you?"
Hawk mumbled under his breath.
Fenrir didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.
All that mattered now was getting to the tenth floor.
And if Zephra was waiting there, so much the better.
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