CHAPTER 120: CH 120: ONE STEP CLOSER- PART 1

Fenrir didn’t waste time after dealing with Gozu and his servant. Their mana-siphoning scheme had been pitiful, and their downfall inevitable.

With that Chapter closed, Fenrir’s next destination was the local bank—a towering building of crystal and metal near the heart of the marketplace.

He walked in with a pouch full of valuable artifacts, gold coins, and a few rare gems he had collected from the now-destroyed mansion.

The bank worker, a thin man in his forties with greying hair and hollow eyes, didn’t blink twice at the high-value assets Fenrir slid across the counter.

His hands moved with the efficiency of someone who’d seen far stranger transactions.

"We accept these. Exchange rate has been applied. Your account has been credited."

The banker said dully.

Fenrir nodded and didn’t ask any further questions.

He didn’t care why no red flags had been raised—it could be corruption, indifference, or simple exhaustion.

Either way, it worked in his favor. He accepted the money with quiet satisfaction and stepped out of the bank, now financially armed for whatever came next.

With his resources replenished, there was no reason to stay on the third floor any longer. The open market had nothing more to offer him. It was time to move forward.

He made his way toward the floor boss’s arena, only to find the place in ruins—blood, scorched stone, and mana residue marked the aftermath of a recent battle.

Someone had already defeated the floor boss. That should have made things easier for him. If the boss was dead, the path forward should’ve been open.

But when Fenrir opened his system menu and checked the floor transition, a single word greeted him in red text:

[Blocked.]

His brow twitched. That wasn’t supposed to happen. He tapped through the system again. Same result.

Blocked.

He tried to override it using his system interface, pouring his mana into the command in an attempt to brute-force the transition.

The system pulsed with resistance, then flickered an error.

Fenrir clenched his fist, frustrated.

"Tch."

"First time seeing that message?"

A voice drawled from behind him.

Fenrir turned to find a man leaning against a nearby wall.

The man had dark hair, a sharp chin, and bright grey eyes that sparkled with mischief.

He looked to be in his mid-twenties and was dressed in a mix of leather armor and flowing cloth—clearly someone used to both combat and diplomacy.

"Who are you?"

Fenrir asked, suspicious.

"Call me Hawk. And judging by that look on your face, I’d say you’re new to the third floor. Let me save you some frustration—there’s no point trying to force your way out. The system doesn’t care how strong you are. Money talks here."

The man said with a grin, pushing off the wall and strolling toward him.

Fenrir’s eyes narrowed. He know all this, but he still decided to listen to the explanation once more.

"Explain."

"Simple. Floor Three doesn’t follow the usual rules. No boss key, no achievement unlocks. It’s all pay-to-leave. You want to move to Floor Four? You pay a toll. And not just any toll—pure mana crystals. Doesn’t matter how strong or fast you are, the system gate won’t open unless it gets its due."

Hawk said, holding up three fingers.

"So that’s why Gozu was panicking."

Fenrir muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

Hawk caught it anyway.

"Ah, so you know Gozu. That slimy elf’s always scrambling to gather mana for taxes. Poor bastard’s not smart enough to realize he’s already being watched."

Fenrir tilted his head.

"Watched by who?"

Hawk chuckled but didn’t answer directly.

"I can tell you. But information like that comes at a price."

Fenrir said nothing for a moment, studying Hawk’s posture, his tone, the way he never quite stopped moving—as if he was always one step away from vanishing.

A mercenary type. Not trustworthy, but useful.

"And what do you want in exchange?"

Fenrir asked.

Hawk’s grin widened.

"I serve knowledge. And lucky for you, young master, I sell it cheap. Depending on what you want to know, of course."

Fenrir raised an eyebrow.

"Young master?"

Hawk winked.

"Come on. A guy with mana that strong, walking through the markets like he owns the place? You scream ex-noble or hidden elite. Don’t worry, I won’t pry too much... unless you want me to."

Fenrir’s expression stayed neutral. He didn’t answer the title but neither did he reject it.

"Fine. You give me information I can use—real information—and I’ll pay you."

He said finally.

"Now you’re speaking my language. Let’s start small, then. You want out of this floor? I can point you to the black market—only place you’ll get mana crystals in bulk without being ripped off."

Hawk said cheerfully, rubbing his hands together.

Fenrir considered it, then nodded.

"Lead the way, Hawk."

Fenrir narrowed his eyes at Hawk and said.

"I’ll trade. But not here. Too many eyes."

Hawk chuckled, unbothered by the suspicion in Fenrir’s tone.

"Fair enough, young master. Can’t blame you for being cautious. Come on then—I know a place where loose lips don’t exist."

He turned and led Fenrir through the winding alleys of the market, weaving through thick crowds and quieter passages until they reached a nondescript restaurant tucked between two closed-down shops.

The scent of grilled meat drifted through the air, and a few tired-looking customers sat inside, heads bowed over plates.

Hawk pushed the door open confidently and gave the owner, a gruff man with a scarred face, a subtle signal—a nod followed by three fingers raised and then dropped.

Without a word, the owner motioned toward the back and turned away. Hawk beckoned Fenrir to follow.

The back room was small but private, dimly lit with soundproofed walls and a single round table in the center. Hawk sat down casually and gestured toward the opposite chair.

"So, let’s talk business. How much can you afford to—"

He began,

Before he could finish, Fenrir was already standing behind him.

In a blink, Fenrir’s hand shot out and wrapped tightly around Hawk’s neck.

He slammed him back against the chair, holding him in place with an almost relaxed grip—relaxed, but radiating dangerous power.

Fenrir leaned in with a calm, cold smile.

"You’re asking the wrong question. The price I’m willing to pay is your life."

Hawk’s pupils shrank.

Fenrir’s tone didn’t rise. If anything, it got quieter, more pointed.

"If you try to double-cross me, if you think you can manipulate me for your benefit, I’ll make sure you never see another dawn. Are we clear?"

Hawk choked slightly but managed a strained laugh.

"Crystal clear..."

Fenrir held him a moment longer, just to let the weight of his words sink in, then released his grip and stepped back.

Hawk took in a few deep breaths, rubbing his neck and laughing nervously.

"Well... I misjudged you, young master. You’re not just another rich idiot walking around flashing coins."

Fenrir didn’t answer.

"Alright, alright. Forget payment. I’ll help you out for free. No strings attached."

Hawk said quickly, raising both hands.

Fenrir watched him closely, then finally took a seat across the table.

"Start talking."

He said flatly.

Hawk nodded quickly, sweat still clinging to his brow.