CHAPTER 99: CH 99: NEED TO GET RID OF HIM- PART 3

Lamia Vincent sat in her darkened room, her once-vibrant screen now black and lifeless.

No matter how many times she rebooted, accessed alternate ports, or tried to bypass the dead system, nothing worked.

It was as if someone had simply deleted her from the mainframe. Her fingers trembled slightly as she picked up her phone and dialed.

Julie Dane answered on the fourth ring, her voice groggy and annoyed.

"Lamia? It’s the middle of the night. Just message me on the system—"

"I can’t! I’ve been locked out. Completely. No access, no backups, nothing. My system’s dead."

Lamia snapped, voice edged with panic.

Julie paused.

"...What?"

"You heard me. Gone. And it’s your fault!"

Lamia’s tone sharpened.

"This whole plan was yours, and now I’m being targeted. I don’t know who the hell you pissed off, but I’m not going down with you. If you don’t fix this, I’ll ruin whatever reputation you and the Secret Hunter Services still have left!"

There was a long silence on the other end before Julie sighed, voice flat.

"Fine. I’ll see what I can do."

Lamia opened her mouth to reply, but the call cut off before she could speak.

Julie stared at her phone for a moment, then set it down gently on her desk. The irritation in her expression quickly faded to cold calculation. She pressed a button on her desk, opening a direct line to her personal squad.

"Change of plans. Lamia Vincent is no longer useful to us. Dispose of her. Quietly."

She said calmly.

"Understood. Target will be eliminated by morning."

Came the curt response from the other end.

Julie leaned back in her chair and exhaled, fingers drumming thoughtfully on the table.

Lamia had been a useful tool for years—but now she was nothing more than a liability.

The following morning, Julie received an encrypted message. She opened it, expecting confirmation of the mission’s success.

Instead, she read the words:

[Target escaped. Unable to track her system. No leads.]

Julie’s eyes narrowed. "She escaped?" she repeated aloud.

Her operative on the other end hesitated.

"Yes, ma’am. We had her location, but she slipped away before extraction. We think she’s gone completely offline. Without system access, she’s a ghost."

Julie clenched her jaw but waved the matter off.

"Fine. Leave her. Without access to her system, she’s useless. No one will believe her if she talks, and she doesn’t have the resources to retaliate. Just keep your eyes open."

Meanwhile, Fenrir remained blissfully unaware of the chaos his defensive measures had triggered.

He was far too immersed in something much more interesting—crafting.

In his workshop, glowing with magical runes and humming with energy, Fenrir held up the blade he had just completed.

He turned it in his hands, admiring its sharp edge and the slight shimmer that danced along the metal’s surface. A hint of satisfaction crossed his face.

"Not bad. This should be enough for now.""

He muttered.

The sword was an S-grade weapon, capped at level 50, and enhanced with full elemental resistance.

The materials Kevin had gathered had been of surprisingly high quality, even if they were from outside the Tower.

A few moments later, Kevin arrived to inspect his new weapon. His eyes widened as he laid eyes on the gleaming blade.

"You finished already?"

He asked.

Fenrir tossed him the sword casually.

"Yeah. It’s ready."

Kevin caught it, then took a few test swings, marveling at the smooth weight and near-perfect balance.

"This is... incredible. Is this the best you can make?"

Fenrir shrugged.

"For now, yes. The limit comes from the materials. Everything we used is from outside the Tower. If you want something stronger, you’ll need to get your hands on Tower-grade resources. The difference is like night and day."

Kevin grinned.

"In that case, I’ll be back for another one soon. When I climb the Tower, I’ll make sure to bring you some high-level loot."

Fenrir chuckled under his breath.

"I’m not working for free."

Kevin smirked.

"Wouldn’t dream of it. With a sword like this, I’ll probably attract enough attention to keep half the Tower distracted."

"Exactly."

Fenrir muttered, almost to himself.

Kevin didn’t catch the glint in Fenrir’s eye, nor the deeper meaning behind those words. As far as he was concerned, Fenrir was a genius blacksmith who was now backing him up.

But for Fenrir, this was all part of the plan. Kevin’s sword wasn’t just a gift—it was bait.

A perfect lure to draw attention away from Fenrir’s own movements as he prepared for the true climb.

Let the others chase fame and spotlight.

Fenrir had his eyes set on something far bigger.

______

Fenrir leaned back in his chair, wiping the last traces of glowing energy from his hands as the weapon he’d crafted cooled on the rack beside him.

With the task complete, he finally opened the unread message Rick had sent him earlier.

[Tower Raid: First Expedition scheduled to begin in 4 days. Final briefing in 2 days. Prepare accordingly.]

Four days. That was too long.

Fenrir’s lips curled into a small, amused smirk. Waiting for a formal invitation didn’t suit him—not now, not after everything he had done to reach this point.

He stood and cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off invisible shackles.

He had no intention of sitting on his hands for four days while politicians and guild leaders played power games.

Decision made, Fenrir sent one message—to Fredric. Short and simple.

[I’m heading in now.]

He waited until the system confirmed that the message had been delivered during the early hours of the morning—when Fredric would be asleep and unable to intervene.

With that, Fenrir left his workshop and headed toward the place where the Tower’s presence had first been detected.

The surrounding air crackled faintly with otherworldly mana, invisible to most but almost nostalgic to Fenrir.

As he drew closer, he slowed his pace, one hand outstretched.

The familiar hum of the Tower’s barrier pulsed against his skin like an old heartbeat, steady and ancient. He pressed his palm against the surface.

Mana flowed.

A pulse passed between him and the Tower. Recognition. Resonance.

[System: Connection Established.]

[Verifying Identity...]

But there was no alarm. No blaring notification sent out across the world. No flashy system prompt warning of an unauthorized intruder.

The Tower... welcomed him.

It remembered.

Once, he had stood at its peak—an unknown god among beasts and rulers.

It had never been a system that guided him, but the Tower itself, reacting to his presence, had opened its secrets willingly. The same was true now.

The mana formed a slow spiral around him, and the barrier shimmered before it quietly parted, allowing him entry.

No announcement.

No witnesses.

Fenrir stepped inside, alone.

The air was cooler here, the atmosphere thicker. The interior of the Tower hadn’t changed. Stone walls twisted into endless corridors, torches burned without fuel, and silence reigned supreme.

The system flickered before his eyes.

[System Sync Complete.]

[Welcome back, Ruler.]

Fenrir’s smirk deepened.

"So you do remember me."

This was no longer an expedition for survival. It was a return. A homecoming.

Let the others have their broadcasts, their briefings, and their fake alliances.

By the time they arrived, Fenrir would already be ten steps ahead.

And this time, no one would be able to catch up.

______

Redemption Code for first 10 people for 10 FP.

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