CHAPTER 115: CH 115: SCENT OF BETRAYAL- PART 2

Fenrir approached the rock with slow, deliberate steps. As his hand neared the surface, the system suddenly buzzed in his mind.

[Warning: High-level Sealing Mana Detected. Contact with the object will result in immobilization.]

Fenrir stopped just short of touching it.

"So that’s what this is."

He muttered, his voice cold. His sharp eyes turned toward the hybrid pair.

"You brought me here to trap me. Thought I’d fall for some half-baked story about a hidden clan and ultimate power?"

The shorter hybrid’s face paled, while the other’s eyes narrowed in aggression.

"Wait—don’t give up now! You’re already here, aren’t you? Just one more step!"

The first one said hastily, trying to keep her voice steady.

But the second hybrid didn’t wait for words. Her muscles tensed, claws extended, and she lunged at Fenrir, attempting to push him into the rock.

Her movements were fast, precise, and deadly—clearly not the actions of a novice.

But Fenrir was faster.

His hand shot out, catching her by the wrist mid-strike. With one smooth motion, he twisted her arm until a sickening crack echoed through the air.

The hybrid cried out in pain, but Fenrir didn’t stop. He spun and hurled her straight at the rock’s surface.

The moment her body made contact, glowing sigils flared up along the rock.

The air crackled as the seal activated, binding her to it with unseen force. She struggled and screamed, but her limbs were locked in place, her energy completely suppressed.

Fenrir turned to the other hybrid, who had already taken several steps back, preparing to flee.

"No, no, no—you don’t get to run."

He growled, appearing in front of her in an instant.

She let out a gasp as Fenrir grabbed her by the scruff of her furred collar and dragged her to the ground.

"You had your chance to play nice. Now you’ll talk."

Fenrir said coldly.

"I won’t say anything. You can do whatever you want, I won’t—"

She hissed through clenched teeth.

’Snap.’

The scream of her companion echoed from the sealing rock as Fenrir looked over his shoulder and activated a pulse of mana to trigger a destructive backlash through the seal.

It wasn’t enough to kill—but it hurt.

"Still sure about that?"

Fenrir asked as he turned back to the one in his grip.

Her defiance shattered in an instant. Trembling, eyes wide with fear, she shook her head quickly.

"I’ll talk—I’ll tell you everything! Just—just don’t kill me!"

Fenrir released his grip slightly, letting her catch her breath.

"Good. Start talking."

______

Fenrir finally calmed down, his spear slowly lowering to his side as he looked down at the trembling female hybrid.

Blood from the first one still lingered on the sealing stone, but Fenrir’s expression remained unreadable.

He was tired of games, tired of being dragged into other people’s tricks. He exhaled slowly and crouched slightly, meeting the surviving hybrid’s eyes.

"You have one chance. Tell me your story, and if I decide it’s not worth hearing anymore, I walk away. You don’t want to know what happens if I feel like I’ve wasted my time."

Fenrir said coldly.

The hybrid woman swallowed, her furred arms trembling. She nodded quickly and sucked in a sharp breath.

"It’s not about this floor. This... all of this... it happened because of a special power. But it’s not here on the second floor. It’s on the fifth."

Fenrir’s eyes narrowed at the words.

"Fifth floor?"

She nodded.

"Yes. They say it belongs to the Beast Emperor. That’s where it all started. That power—it’s not natural. It’s different from anything we’ve seen. It changes people. Warps them. The clan who rules us now—they got their hands on it."

Fenrir’s expression darkened.

The name Beast Emperor meant nothing to him, but the mention of the fifth floor sent a chill down his spine.

He did remember something about the fifth floor—a place where he had hidden one of his fragments.

Carefully buried in the deep recesses of the floor, where no one should have been able to reach it.

But someone had. Someone had found his power. And they were using it.

He clenched his jaw. Betrayal wasn’t new to him, but it still left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"So, they’re using my power. Without permission."

He muttered, more to himself than to her,

The woman watched him, wide-eyed. She could sense the shift in his aura—the calm before the storm.

Fenrir turned his gaze to her again, colder now.

"Are you done?"

She hesitated.

"Y-Yes. That’s all I know. So... am I free to go now?"

He tilted his head.

"You’re free to try."

Her eyes widened at his words, and she didn’t wait for more. The hybrid woman bolted, vanishing between the trees in an instant. Fenrir didn’t chase her.

He didn’t move. He simply stood there, watching the direction she ran in.

Minutes passed.

And then, he felt it.

A faint flicker in the mana around him—like a breath being taken and then never released. Her life force, gone in an instant. Crushed.

Fenrir sighed.

"People really do overestimate themselves. Every time."

He muttered, shaking his head.

He turned back toward the sealing stone, gazing at the remnants of the trap that had nearly been his own prison. His hand curled into a fist.

This encounter had taught him one thing.

His hiding places were not safe. Not anymore.

If his power had been found on the fifth floor, then there was no telling what kind of damage it was doing—or what kind of creatures were being twisted by it.

He had hidden those fragments long ago, confident in their secrecy. Confident that no one would ever be able to track them down.

But now?

Someone was using his power. Someone had turned it into a throne. A title. A force of oppression. And he couldn’t allow that.

Not anymore.

"I have to move faster. If they’ve reached the fifth floor already... it’s only a matter of time before more of them get their hands on what’s mine."

He muttered.

He felt his mana stir in response to his growing determination, the earth beneath his feet almost vibrating in resonance with his will.

There was no time to linger on this floor. No time to waste.

The longer he took, the more chaos could spread across the tower, all fueled by pieces of the very power he once cast aside.

He turned away from the rock, leaving the sealing trap behind. The fake promise of a hidden clan, the broken illusion of trust—none of it mattered anymore.

Only one thing mattered now.

He had to reclaim what was his.

Before others used it to reshape the tower in ways he could never undo.

Fenrir walked away from the sealing stone, his expression unreadable.

The scent of blood still lingered, but he didn’t look back. His thoughts were already on the fifth floor and the power that had fallen into the wrong hands.

The betrayal didn’t anger him—it focused him. He couldn’t afford to waste time anymore. One by one, he would reclaim what belonged to him.

He would tear down anything that stood in his way. The tower was shifting, and he could feel the storm building.

With each step forward, Fenrir vowed—he would no longer let others decide how his story unfolded.