Fenrir didn’t break his stride, but his eyes flicked sideways for a mont, narrowing slightly as he caught the scamr’s words.
"Executioner of the ninth floor,"
He murmured.
The scamr, noticing this subtle reaction, jumped on the opportunity like a starving wolf finding scraps. He darted a few steps closer, his voice a little too eager.
"Yeah, yeah, I can see you’re interested now."
He said, trying to sound calm but visibly sweating.
"See, unlike the floors you’ve been through so far, the ninth isn’t just another trial. It’s a prison. They stuck a real monster down there. Not a beast or a summoned creature. A real, living nightmare."
Fenrir said nothing, but his silence was different this ti—less dismissive, more thoughtful.
The scamr continued, encouraged.
"The higher floors, they collared it—her, I think—but even then, they couldn’t kill her. Couldn’t control her completely either. So they just... dumped her on floor nine, gave her the right to execute anyone who dares to cross without permission."
He gave a low chuckle, trying to play it casual.
"Tower even penalized her, from what I hear. Like, the system limits her powers so she doesn’t blow up the whole floor, but even with the restrictions? She’s unstoppable. No one who tries to brute-force their way through that floor has ever made it."
Fenrir finally stopped walking. The motion was subtle but sharp, like a blade snapping into place.
"...What’s the na?"
He asked quietly, his tone unreadable.
The scamr blinked.
"Huh?"
"The na of the executioner. Do you know it?"
Fenrir said.
A flicker of nervousness crossed the scamr’s face. He hesitated and scratched the back of his neck.
"Ah, well, y’know, people don’t really use her na. She’s just called ’The Annihilator’ these days. That’s what the rumors say."
Fenrir didn’t press him. He rely looked forward again and began to walk once more, uncaring.
The scamr frowned, confused. Why wasn’t he demanding more?
"Wait—hey—aren’t you gonna ask for more details? I an, that’s important information! Don’t you wanna know if she has a weakness or sothing?!"
But Fenrir just kept walking, unmoved, as if none of it mattered.
The scamr panicked. He grabbed Fenrir’s arm.
"Okay, okay! I did hear sothing! One ti—I swear—I heard guards call her sothing. Sothing weird. They called her... ’Penelopy of the Fire Forest.’"
Fenrir stopped again. This ti, he turned his head just enough for the scamr to see his expression.
A slow, sharp smile had spread across Fenrir’s face.
"Penelopy..."
He said, almost like a whisper, tasting the na.
The scamr tilted his head.
"You know her?"
Fenrir didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. His expression—calm, amused, and just a little too pleased—told the scamr everything he needed to know.
The scamr paled.
"Wait, are you—are you happy to hear that? You’re not scared?"
Fenrir finally looked at him fully, those icy eyes like the still before a storm.
"Scared? Not even a little. Thanks for the warning, though."
He repeated, his smile widening.
Then, without another word, he turned and resud walking.
His steps now had a different weight to them—less like soone moving forward and more like soone returning to a long-delayed reunion.
The scamr stood frozen for a mont, mouth slightly open.
"You—you’re insane. You’re actually going to walk right into the monster’s cage."
He muttered under his breath.
He clenched his fists, frustrated.
"Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you."
With a final glare at Fenrir’s back, the scamr turned around and began trudging back toward the market, muttering curses under his breath.
"Dead man walking, that’s what he is. Can’t even help soone when they’ve already decided how they want to die."
But despite his words, a nervous chill followed him long after he left Fenrir behind.
Fenrir walked silently through the narrow canyon leading toward the exit of the seventh floor, his eyes scanning the flickering light on the map projected by his system.
He wasn’t in a hurry. Instead, his pace was steady, thoughtful—more contemplative than cautious.
Penelopy of the Fire Forest.
The na echoed in his mind like a song from a half-rembered past. She hadn’t been a commanding officer or a trusted lieutenant.
In fact, among his old subordinates, she barely stood out in terms of rank. She was nothing more than a mid-tier soldier, one of many who followed orders and fought when told.
But Penelopy... she was different.
She never bowed easily.
Always the first to challenge his commanders, never afraid to speak her mind, and reckless enough to question authority even when she didn’t have the strength to back it up.
That fiery nature—both literal and taphorical—had made her impossible to forget.
There had been sothing wild about her, sothing untad and unpredictable, like the forest fires that used to rage across the outer ring of their old territories.
"She wasn’t strong, but she was loud."
Fenrir muttered to himself.
That was why her na had stuck with him. Not because of power, but because of presence. He hadn’t seen her since the collapse of their unit.
Most of his forr soldiers had vanished, killed, imprisoned, or worse. He never gave them a second thought.
Penelopy had been one of the many... and yet, now, she stood as the so-called "Annihilator" of the ninth floor.
"A collar and a prison. Did you finally explode, or are you still burning just slow enough to stay useful?"
He said with a faint snort.
He tilted his head slightly, gazing at the map again. Two exits were listed—one labeled Official Exit, brightly marked and surrounded by towers and checkpoints.
The other was dim, marked simply as Exit.
He didn’t need to think twice.
Fenrir turned toward the abandoned path.
There was no need to ask what lay beyond it. A forgotten road, an ignored gate, and a monster waiting in the dark.
He could already feel the heat beginning to rise in the air, faint embers drifting from sowhere far off like the breath of an old dragon.
This route didn’t promise safety or comfort—it promised conflict. A confrontation.
And perhaps... answers.
He rolled his shoulders and stretched his arms with a lazy groan, cracking his neck.
"Tch. Looks like this’ll be a tough one."
Still, the corner of his mouth twitched upward. There was sothing in him—sothing old and cold—that relished the idea.
Far below, on the first floor of the tower, the mood was vastly different.
King Gorgon stood at the edge of the cliff that overlooked the bustling settlent that had blood under his quiet protection.
He was massive, armored in hardened scales, his long spear resting against one shoulder.
The humans who had helped him manage the chaotic influx of newcors now stood by his side.
"I suppose this is farewell, then?"
He rumbled, his voice deep enough to shake pebbles loose.
Kevin, the young man with a slightly too-confident grin, adjusted the straps of his travel bag and nodded.
"Yeah. We got what we needed here. The supplies, the readings... Now we’re heading up."
Gorgon turned slightly to face him, his reptilian eyes narrowing.
"Do you know what waits above?"
"Not really. But we’re not here for sightseeing. My boss sent to find soone. If I co back empty-handed..."
Kevin admitted.
He gave a dry laugh and tapped his neck aningfully.
"Well, I’d prefer to keep my head where it is."
The giant king let out a slow exhale, the wind from his breath rustling nearby trees.
"You’re brave. Or foolish."
"Both."
Kevin said easily.
Gorgon lowered his gaze.
"Then listen well. The Tower’s rcy ends here. The further you climb, the less reason you’ll find. So floors are ruled by strength. Others by politics, or monsters. Sotis the line between them disappears."
"We’ve already seen that. But thanks for the heads-up. We’ll be careful."
Kevin replied.
Gorgon gave a slow nod.
"I wish you luck. I will not forget your assistance here."
As Kevin and his companions turned to leave, Gorgon’s gaze lingered for a mont longer.
Sothing about those humans reminded him of a past that was hard to recall—one full of fire, blood, and forgotten nas.
He didn’t know who they were looking for... but part of him suspected the Tower already knew.
And the Tower didn’t give up its monsters easily.
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