Seven coins! Lloyd felt a surge of satisfaction. Almost there. Two more points for this lesson than for slapping the bully. Apparently, constructive economic theory paid slightly better than street justice.
Master Elmsworth cleared his throat, addressing the class but his eyes lingering on Lloyd for a moment longer. "An… insightful perspective, Lord Ferrum. Efficiency, as you say, is indeed a worthy goal, though fraught with practical challenges in implementation." He seemed to gather himself. "We shall ponder these points. For next time, review the chapter on Guild arbitration processes. Class dismissed."
As the students began shuffling out, murmuring amongst themselves, Master Elmsworth caught Lloyd's eye one last time. He gave a brief, almost imperceptible nod. Not deference, not quite approval, but acknowledgment. Recognition. A silent message passing between two minds that had unexpectedly, productively, clashed.
Walking out into the bright afternoon sun, Ken Park falling into his customary silent step behind him, Lloyd felt a distinct sense of accomplishment that had nothing to do with System Coins. He had challenged established thought, offered viable alternatives, and earned the grudging respect of a learned man.
Maybe this second life wouldn't just be about surviving. Maybe, just maybe, it could be about building something better. Starting with more efficient warehouses. And a wolf that seemed determined to outgrow its own mythology.
The fifth dawn arrived not with gentle persuasion, but with the insistent chill seeping through the thin blanket covering Lloyd Ferrum on his now-familiar purgatory, the sofa. He surfaced from sleep like a diver breaching cold water, gasping slightly against the ingrained discomfort. The opulent ceiling swam into view, its carved details a mocking testament to the luxury he couldn't fully access. Five days. Five days back in a life he thought long finished, five days sleeping on furniture designed more for aesthetic appeal than spinal support. The faint, cloying scent of lavender potpourri felt like a personal insult this morning.
He pushed himself up, swinging his legs over the side, the cool floorboards a stark contrast to the itchy velvet. A sigh escaped him, involuntary, weary. It wasn't just the physical discomfort; it was the mental weight, the constant juggling act between nineteen-year-old hormones and eighty-year-old cynicism, the simmering tension with the room's other occupant, and the ever-present knowledge of the power coiled within him, waiting.
Before anything else, before facing the day's potential landmines – be it parental scrutiny, academic boredom, or spousal frostbite – there was the ritual. Operation: Canine Cuisine Upgrade.
Reaching for the smooth Spirit Stone nestled in his tunic, Lloyd pushed a thread of energy into it, a connection now feeling less like a tentative flicker and more like flipping a switch. Beside the sofa, the air didn't just shimmer; it seemed to condense, gathering light before solidifying into the form of Fang.
Lloyd froze mid-motion, the prepared platter of roasted chicken momentarily forgotten. He simply stared, absorbing the changes. Four days. It defied all logical biological principles he knew from Earth. Fang wasn't just healthier; he was magnificent, almost unnervingly so. His grey coat possessed a depth, a sheen like polished graphite, rippling over lean, powerful muscles that moved with a predator's silent grace. He held his head high, alert ears constantly sampling the air, capturing sounds Lloyd couldn't even register. The tentative uncertainty was gone, replaced by an aura of contained power, a quiet intensity that seemed to vibrate in the air around him.
And those eyes… they met Lloyd's, not with the simple affection of a pet or the bewildered loyalty of a lesser spirit, but with a startling, piercing intelligence. There was an ancient awareness in their brown depths, a knowing that felt far older than the mere five days Lloyd had been actively tending to him in this timeline. It was the gaze of something that understood far more than it let on.
Five days, Lloyd thought, his mind racing through calculations. Even with optimal protein synthesis, metabolic acceleration… this rate of change is ludicrous. It's like watching a time-lapse film of evolution compressed into less than a week. What are you, Fang? Was the original assessment of 'weak wolf spirit' just… wrong? Fundamentally flawed? Or is the System doing something passively? Buffing him somehow beyond just rewarding me?
He crouched, extending his hand slowly. Fang leaned into the touch instantly, a deep, resonant rumble vibrating through Lloyd's fingertips as he scratched the thick fur behind the wolf's ears. This wasn't just a spirit manifesting; this felt like reconnecting with a powerful, sentient partner whose true nature had been dormant, starved, neglected for far too long. The density of Fang's spiritual signature felt palpable now, a solid core of energy pressing right against the upper boundaries of the Manifestation stage, eager, perhaps, to ascend.