CHAPTER 132: CH 132: THE WARNING- PART 1

Fenrir stepped into the seventh floor with his usual impassive gaze.

The air here was different—cleaner, colder, with an undercurrent of power that hummed beneath the ground.

The buildings were sleeker, the streets wider, and the people wore finer robes and armor.

Clearly, this was a higher-tier floor. The population was dense, and he found himself blending into a crowd moving through a large open-air market that buzzed with energy.

As he walked, Fenrir let his sharp ears pick up the whispers and murmurs in the crowd. Most of them were idle gossip, but a few threads caught his attention.

"Did you hear? Humans are now inside the tower..."

"I saw one just yesterday. Looked soft."

"Hah! The old council’s losing their minds over it."

"New blood. New toys. I say let them come."

Fenrir didn’t react, but a flicker of amusement crossed his face. Predictable. The older generation feared change, clinging to the established hierarchy.

The younger ones, cockier and still chasing thrills, saw humans as nothing but an opportunity.

Neither of them had the foresight to see what was coming. Not that it concerned Fenrir—he wasn’t here to fight political battles.

He was about to head to the boss arena, the logical next step, when a loud, arrogant voice broke through the noise.

"Yup! We cleared it just yesterday! The boss on this floor’s already been handled. The next gate’s open for the next hundred years! Cheers to that!"

Fenrir’s eyes narrowed. That was inconvenient.

So much for a boss battle.

Without a challenge waiting, there was only one thing left: finding the gate.

He pondered whether brute-forcing his way through again was a viable option. It wouldn’t be the first time.

But before he could commit, another voice caught his attention—a greasy, overly friendly tone amplified with magical enhancement.

"Step right up! Safe passage to the eighth floor! I know the way and I know the code! For the right price, you too can advance!"

Fenrir glanced sideways and saw the man: tall, thin, eyes too bright, and smile too wide. Definitely a scammer. His type was common on higher floors, preying on the desperate and the ignorant.

Fenrir walked past him without a word.

But the man noticed him. His eyes gleamed as they locked onto Fenrir like a hawk spotting prey. He ended his sales pitch and slipped through the crowd, following him with careful steps.

Fenrir didn’t stop him. Not yet.

He continued walking until he was well beyond the edge of the market, down a quiet stone path near the base of a crumbling tower.

Shadows stretched over the abandoned alleyway. Here, no crowds would gather. No guards would come running.

He stopped.

The scammer, emboldened by Fenrir’s lack of reaction, stepped closer.

"Hey there, friend. You look like someone who wants to move up fast. No time to waste, huh? For someone like you, I could offer a discount."

Fenrir said nothing.

The man kept talking, stepping into range.

Big mistake.

Before the scammer could react, Fenrir spun, grabbed him by the collar, and slammed him against the wall.

The man’s breath hitched in surprise, but he didn’t even get a chance to speak before Fenrir’s arm wrapped around his neck, locking him into a chokehold tight enough to cut off both air and mana flow.

The scammer struggled—arms flailing, feet kicking—but Fenrir’s grip didn’t budge.

"I don’t like being followed."

Fenrir said coldly, tightening the hold just a little more.

The scammer gurgled in response, clawing at Fenrir’s arm.

"Tell me where the real path to the gate is, and I might not snap your neck."

Fenrir continued,

The scammer was still gasping for breath on the ground when Fenrir’s cold voice sliced through the silence like a blade.

"What do you want from me?"

The man looked up, eyes wide and fearful. But he was quick to adapt—too quick. His fear was real, but so was the scheming underneath it.

"I—I have an offer. You want to get to the eighth floor, right? I can take you. Easy. All I ask is that you pay a little fee—"

He stammered, scrambling to his knees.

Fenrir’s gaze sharpened.

"You tried to scam me, and now you want me to trust you?"

He said flatly, stepping forward.

The scammer flinched.

"W-Wait! Please, I’m sorry! I didn’t know who you were, alright? I thought you were just another clueless climber—I wasn’t trying to start anything! But I swear, I wasn’t lying about knowing the path!"

Fenrir’s aura flared subtly—barely noticeable, but it made the air heavier. The scammer’s words caught in his throat.

"I could kill you right now, and no one would care."

Fenrir muttered,

The man threw his hands up, voice trembling.

"Please don’t! I swear, I’m not lying! I do know the way—there’s a hidden gate, only accessible with the right credentials. I wasn’t lying about that part, I swear on my life!"

Fenrir stared at him, expression unreadable. This time, he could tell the man wasn’t faking. His words rang with the distinct resonance of truth.

"...You have one minute. Talk."

Fenrir said finally.

The scammer nodded quickly, grateful to still be breathing. He sucked in a shaky breath and began.

"My name’s Brann. I’m not just some street rat—I used to be part of a proper organization. We weren’t exactly ’lawful,’ but we didn’t scam people for fun either. We had power, connections—until a raid wiped most of us out. My people were captured and thrown into the Seventh’s private jails."

"And?"

Fenrir asked, already growing bored.

Brann swallowed.

"I’ve been gathering intel for months now. I know the guard patterns, I know where they’re being held. But I can’t break them out alone. That’s why I approached you. You stood out—your aura, the way people avoided looking directly at you. I knew you were strong. If you help me free my people, I’ll give you a direct path to the eighth floor. No tolls. No tricks. Just a clean escape."

He looked up, hopeful.

"You get what you want, and I get my crew back. Win-win."

Fenrir didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he yawned, loud and slow, as if Brann’s whole story had put him to sleep.

"This is your plan? Recruit a stranger off the street to help you stage a jailbreak?|

Fenrir said finally.

Brann blinked.

"I—I figured—"

"I’m done listening. Not my problem."

Fenrir interrupted, turning on his heel.

"Wait—no, don’t go! Just think about it—please!"

Brann stumbled after him, hands outstretched.

Fenrir didn’t even spare him a glance. His stride was calm and unhurried, as though nothing Brann had said had made a dent.

"You’re the only one who can help! I’m begging you! Just listen!"

Brann called out.

Fenrir’s pace didn’t change.

Behind him, Brann’s voice echoed through the alleyway, desperate and cracking.

"I know where the backup gate is! It’s not on the maps! No one else has it—I’m your best shot!"

That made Fenrir pause.

Just for a second.

But he didn’t turn around. Not yet.

He was done being dragged into other people’s problems.

Unless, of course, those problems could benefit him. But then again, Fenrir was someone who liked to do things his way and not care about consequences.

He also had the system, so most of it was useless to him anyway.