CHAPTER 102: CH 102: FIRST STEP IN THE TOWER- PART 3

With most of the soldiers either dead or lying defeated around Fenrir, he let out a disappointed sigh and shook the blood off his blade.

"The tower’s gone soft. What a letdown."

He muttered.

The few remaining guards stood around him, shields trembling in their hands. They didn’t dare attack, not anymore.

But they didn’t run either. They tried their best to keep their fallen comrades protected, eyes burning with duty even as their legs threatened to buckle.

It was brave. Stupid, but brave.

"You’re not bad. But you’re wasting your lives like this. You have potential, but no brains. That’s why you’re still stuck as grunts."

Fenrir said casually as he paced in front of them, sword resting on his shoulder.

The guards didn’t respond, but they didn’t move either.

They were buying time—Fenrir knew it. Probably hoping their leader would show up and somehow turn the tide. He could see it in their stances. Desperate, but not entirely hopeless.

Fenrir sighed again, louder this time.

"Fine. I’ll end this for you—"

He raised his hand, the mana beneath the earth trembling in response as he prepared to cause another localized quake with Master of Earth.

But just as the spell activated, a sharp gust of wind cut through the air. Something came flying straight at him.

Instinct screamed, and Fenrir twisted his body just in time to avoid the spear aimed at his chest.

It missed him by inches, embedding itself into the ground behind him with a heavy thunk that cracked the stone tiles.

"Tch. You couldn’t even handle this guy?"

A voice scoffed.

Fenrir turned his head slowly. A tall, muscular man strode forward with heavy steps, his presence immediately shifting the mood of the battlefield.

The soldiers, who had moments ago looked like they were about to collapse, now straightened up in unison.

"King Gorgon!"

One of them shouted, dropping to one knee.

More followed.

"Your Majesty! Thank the heavens!"

Fenrir’s eyes narrowed behind his mask. He activated his system interface, quickly pulling up the profile.

[Name: Gorgon

Level: 55

Title: City Lord of Beginner’s Paradise

Weapon: King’s Spear – Enhanced]

Level 55. Higher than Fenrir’s flat 50.

Not by much, but the pressure the man emitted was nothing to scoff at. He had the aura of someone who lived on the battlefield, not behind a desk.

King Gorgon reached out and his spear flew back into his hand like it had a will of its own. He spun it once, casually, before pointing it at Fenrir.

"I don’t know who you are or what you want, but attacking my soldiers means you’ve declared war on this city. And I never forgive betrayal."

Gorgon said, his voice rich with authority,

Fenrir’s eyes sparkled with interest.

"You’re not like the rest. Good. I was getting bored."

The two stared at each other for a moment. Then, without another word, Gorgon charged.

His spear came at Fenrir like a bolt of lightning, fast and brutal.

Fenrir blocked with his sword, but the sheer weight behind the spear knocked him backward a few steps. His boots scraped against the ground as he slid.

"You’re strong."

Fenrir muttered, flicking his wrist to shake off the impact. He reinforced his arms with mana and charged back in.

The plaza echoed with the sound of metal clashing against metal. Fenrir dodged, weaved, and countered with tight swings, each movement precise and calculated.

Gorgon, however, was relentless. He swung his spear like a force of nature, using wide arcs and devastating thrusts to force Fenrir on the defensive.

Unlike the guards, Gorgon didn’t waste time with hesitation or pride. Every move was made to kill.

His attack patterns were straightforward but brutally effective. And unlike the grunts, he had the strength to back it up.

Fenrir couldn’t overpower him.

He had to adapt.

He ducked under a thrust and activated Master of Earth mid-roll. The ground behind him cracked and a pillar shot up, aiming to knock Gorgon off balance.

But Gorgon jumped, flipping mid-air and hurling his spear downward with terrifying speed.

Fenrir barely managed to redirect the blow with his sword, though the impact still sent a shockwave rippling out. Dust and stone burst outward, and cracks spider-webbed across the plaza floor.

"Still standing?" Gorgon asked, landing a few feet away.

Fenrir grinned.

"You’re strong. But still... not good enough."

He dashed in, quicker than before.

Instead of direct attacks, he aimed for Gorgon’s footing. Small tremors rippled under his steps as he shifted the earth just enough to throw off the city lord’s rhythm.

Gorgon’s expression twisted slightly as he missed his mark for the first time. Fenrir pressed the advantage, managing a clean strike across the side of his opponent’s armor. Sparks flew.

"Tch."

Gorgon muttered and backed up, tightening his grip.

The guards watching from a distance were stunned.

Their king, who they believed to be unmatched, was actually being pushed back. For a moment, they faltered again—fear creeping back into their expressions.

Fenrir noticed it. He let out a short breath, pulling back.

"This is fun. You’re strong. But you fight too direct. You depend on brute force, but you forget—"

He said, eyes locked on Gorgon.

He lifted his hand and clenched it.

The ground beneath Gorgon’s feet exploded upward, forcing him to leap back.

"—that the world isn’t made for just one kind of strength."

The two clashed again, harder than before.

But this time, Fenrir wasn’t retreating. He was holding his ground, trading blow for blow, using the terrain, timing, and subtle movements to keep the battle in his control.

King Gorgon gritted his teeth.

"Who are you?"

Fenrir’s mask caught the light, his golden eyes gleaming behind the dark veil.

"Somone whom you’ll know about soon enough."

King Gorgon was strong—no doubt about that. His attacks were swift, heavy, and precise. But he wasn’t unstoppable.

Fenrir matched each blow, his sword clashing against the spear with controlled force. He adjusted his footing as needed, reinforcing his body with mana only when necessary to conserve energy.

His eyes followed every movement with sharp calculation. Slowly but surely, he was adapting to Gorgon’s rhythm.

Still, as the battle continued, one thought wouldn’t leave Fenrir’s mind.

For someone this strong... why was he still here?

During a brief pause in their clash, Fenrir tilted his head and asked.

"Why are you still on the first floor?"

Gorgon’s eyes narrowed.

"With your level and strength, you should’ve climbed the tower long ago. So what’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?"

Fenrir continued, stepping back lightly.

Gorgon’s expression darkened. His grip on his spear tightened, and his jaw clenched in visible irritation.

"That’s none of your business. Focus on the fight."

He growled.

Fenrir raised an eyebrow.

"Touched a nerve?"

"Shut up! I said stop talking!"

Gorgon snapped, lunging forward with renewed aggression.

Fenrir parried the incoming strike, but this time there was a different kind of force behind it—not just strength, but anger.

Something personal.

"Interesting. I didn’t expect that to upset you."

Fenrir muttered as he backed away again, dodging another thrust.

"You talk too much! This is a battle, not a conversation!"

Gorgon barked, pressing the attack. Fenrir gave a short laugh and steadied his stance.

"Fine. I’ll play along."

Still, the question lingered in his mind. Gorgon wasn’t just strong—he was hiding something. And that made Fenrir even more curious about the state of the tower.