As the class ended and students began dispersing with light chatter and laughter, Fenrir remained seated for a moment, wiping a bead of sweat from his temple.
Sparring with Dain hadn't left him injured, but his body ached in unfamiliar ways—proof of how far he'd slipped from his peak form.
Then the hairs on his neck stood up.
He glanced up and instantly met two pairs of eyes.
One belonged to Dain Klein, who gave him a small, friendly wave as if they'd just finished a pleasant conversation instead of nearly knocking each other out. The other set—sharp and stormy—belonged to Elaine Croix.
Her expression was unreadable, but the intensity in her eyes was unmistakable.
Fenrir held their gazes for a heartbeat longer, then looked away.
Too much attention. Not good.
Without a word, he gathered his things and slipped out of the building.
It wasn't fear that urged him to move quickly, but instinct—an urge to retreat and think, to return to somewhere quieter, more controlled. He needed a plan. Fast.
By the time he reached the apartment provided by the school, he was already browsing the web on his wrist console. Information whizzed by his eyes—rumors, marketplace updates, dungeon news. One headline caught his attention.
"Rumored Artifact Allows 8 Hours of Sleep in 1 Hour—Location Unknown!"
Fenrir's brows lifted in surprise.
They're trying to replicate sleep compression now? Crude idea. Inefficient at best.
He remembered a similar artifact from his own time. They were always inferior to the sleep-recovery potions he brewed himself—elixirs that not only condensed sleep but boosted mental clarity and bodily regeneration.
Memory bloomed like a spark in the darkness. He could almost smell the potion—bitter with a sharp citrus aftertaste. The ingredients came to mind with ease, each one anchoring a part of his plan.
He opened a blank note and listed them out.
10 Ingredients Total: all dungeon drops, mostly from E-Grade dungeons.
With growing excitement, he opened the online marketplace.
Then his smile vanished.
What the hell?
The prices were outrageous. A basic "Twilight Nectar" went for three times its normal cost. Even the commonly dropped "Moonlight Spores" were inflated beyond reason. Apparently, low-grade dungeons were trending now because of a recent update that made them safer for new adventurers—and thus, farmers were stockpiling resources and driving up demand.
Fenrir leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temples. Money wasn't exactly an issue yet—he still had a hefty stash—but for the first time since his awakening, he feared the possibility of running out.
I'll need to start budgeting soon. I didn't come back to live like a broke hermit.
He checked the auction house next, hoping to score a bulk deal or an overlooked listing.
No luck. The ingredients were scattered, incomplete, or bid up to absurd prices by auto-bidders. It would take too long, and there was no guarantee he'd get what he needed even after waiting a week.
Fenrir exhaled and made a decision.
Fine. I'll do it myself.
He opened up a dungeon app and started researching E-Grade dungeons. After cross-referencing the ingredient list with dungeon-specific drops, he narrowed it down to two dungeons in the vicinity—both E-grade, both short enough to be run in under an hour if one knew the layout.
Perfect for a weekend dive.
He spent the rest of the evening reviewing maps, checking spawn points, and memorizing routes. His fingers flew across the holographic keyboard as he jotted down every important variable—monster types, drop rates, escape paths. His body still hurt from the sparring, but his mind was sharp, focused.
When he finally lay down, the sky outside had already darkened. He allowed himself four hours of sleep—barely enough, but just manageable. The weekend couldn't come fast enough.
The next morning, Fenrir returned to class.
But something had changed.
He noticed it the moment he stepped in. The conversations quieted. Whispers started. Students avoided eye contact, shrinking away from him like he was a dangerous anomaly. It wasn't fear, exactly—more like wariness. Curiosity wrapped in caution.
So they're watching me now.
He said nothing, his face unreadable. He took his seat at the back and leaned forward, arms folded, chin resting on his wrists. He didn't want to engage. Let them look.
Let them grow bored.
And, just as he hoped, most of them did lose interest as the day dragged on. With Fenrir remaining passive, their attention drifted elsewhere. Except for two people.
Dain still watched him—cheerful, smiling, observant. Always ready to wave or throw a thumbs-up, as if they were comrades.
Elaine, on the other hand, was more subtle. She pretended to ignore him, but Fenrir caught her staring more than once. Her expression never changed, but her gaze was probing, analytical.
They were both trying to figure him out.
s soon as the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, students began packing up with practiced laziness. But Fenrir stayed seated, sensing a shift in the air—an anticipation that hadn't been there before.
Footsteps approached.
He didn't need to look up to know it was Dain Klein. The energy that radiated from the boy was distinct—warm, strong, and unwavering. Like sunlight that refused to be ignored.
Dain stopped in front of Fenrir's desk, hands in his pockets, a relaxed grin on his face. The room, however, was far from relaxed. All eyes turned toward them. Whispers buzzed through the air like static. Everyone seemed to brace themselves, half-expecting a brawl to break out.
Idiots, Fenrir thought. They're acting like this is some sort of showdown.
The tension cracked as Dain leaned forward slightly and said, "Hey, Fenrir. Wanna join the dungeon-exploration club?"
The words hit the room like a stone dropped in still water. Murmurs rippled outward. More than a few jaws dropped.
Fenrir raised an eyebrow.
"That's all you wanted to ask?" he said, voice low.
Dain nodded. "Yup. You've got the instincts, and I think you'd benefit from it. Plus, we get to go into dungeons most students don't even get near."
The way he said it was casual, but Fenrir caught the gleam in Dain's eye. It wasn't just a friendly offer—there was something calculated about it. A test, maybe. Or a message to someone watching.
Around them, students exchanged envious glances. The dungeon-exploration club was one of the most exclusive groups in the academy.
Not only did it offer rare opportunities for field experience, but it also opened doors—connections, reputation, special training. Most people spent years trying to get in.
And now Dain was handing Fenrir an invitation on a silver platter.
Useful, Fenrir thought. Very useful.
He leaned back in his chair and met Dain's gaze.
"I'll join," he said. "But not this weekend. I've got something else to handle."
"Next week's fine," Dain said easily. "Just let me know when you're ready."
With that, he turned and left, still smiling. The watching crowd slowly dispersed, clearly disappointed there had been no drama.
Fenrir watched Dain's back for a second, then let a small smirk pull at his lips.
'Now I have an alibi for how I am gaining power so fast if anyone asks. I should look into this a little more. I have a feeling that I will get even more benefits.'