CHAPTER 117: CH 117: DON’T NEED YOU ANYMORE- PART 1

Gozu paced the length of the ornate sitting room, his frustration mounting.

"We have until sundown. If we don’t deliver the pure mana by then, the collectors from the fifth floor will come knocking. And they won’t be polite about it."

He muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

His servant, a nervous-looking half-elf barely older than a teenager, wrung his hands.

"What will we do, Lord Gozu? We don’t have enough, and the black market’s dry. They’ll ruin us."

Gozu flopped into the nearest armchair, groaning.

"They won’t just ruin us. They’ll make an example out of us. Especially me."

Before the servant could respond, a third voice—low, calm, and unfamiliar—cut through the room.

"I might have a solution for your little problem."

Gozu leapt to his feet, his servant nearly stumbling in panic.

Both turned toward the voice and saw a figure casually stepping out from the shadows beside a bookshelf—cloak draped loosely around his shoulders, spear strapped to his back, and an expression that carried an unsettling mix of calm and threat.

"Who are you?! How did you get inside? What happened to the guards?!"

Gozu demanded, eyes wide.

Fenrir ignored the panic in their voices and walked forward slowly, eyes scanning the room like he’d been here a hundred times.

"None of that is important. What matters is that I heard everything, and I can help you gather the mana you need."

He said, stopping in front of them.

"You expect us to trust some random man who just shows up in our home? You could be a spy sent to ruin us."

The servant asked, glancing nervously at the window.

Fenrir’s gaze flicked to him.

"If I wanted to ruin you, I wouldn’t have walked in. I’d have burned this entire place to the ground."

The air in the room grew heavier.

Fenrir’s words weren’t loud, but they carried a weight that pressed down on both of them. He didn’t speak like someone bluffing—he spoke like someone who didn’t have to.

"I’m offering a deal. I help you get what you need, and in exchange, you answer a few questions. That’s all."

Fenrir continued.

Gozu looked at his servant, uncertainty written all over his face. But desperation had a voice of its own.

"Fine. But first, prove you’re not just full of hot air. Show us that you can help."

Gozu said.

He snapped his fingers.

"Get the device."

The servant hesitated, clearly still suspicious, but when Gozu shot him a warning look, he rushed out and returned a few moments later with a small, crystal orb encased in polished steel and inscribed with delicate rune marks.

"It’s a mana purity detector. Place your hand inside. If you can produce high-grade mana—pure enough for the fifth-floor standards—the orb will glow silver."

Gozu explained.

Fenrir nodded without argument and stepped forward.

He slipped his hand into the orb and quietly activated Master of Illusion.

Instead of producing actual mana, he tricked the device—and more importantly, the eyes watching—into displaying what they wanted to see.

The orb pulsed once, then steadily glowed a rich, silver-white. The servant’s mouth dropped open.

"He... He really has pure mana."

The boy muttered in disbelief.

Gozu’s eyes narrowed.

"How is this possible? You don’t look like a fifth-floor merchant."

Fenrir withdrew his hand.

"Like I said... not important. Now, about those questions."

Gozu and his servant exchanged a look. They were still suspicious, but the evidence glowed brightly right in front of them.

Whatever doubts they had, their situation left them little room to refuse.

"Fine. You help us get what we need, and we’ll answer your questions."

Gozu said slowly.

Fenrir gave a curt nod, his eyes steady on Gozu’s.

"Good. Then let’s not waste time."

Gozu stared at the silver glow of the mana orb, his jaw slack with disbelief. His servant, still clutching the base of the device, looked up at his master with wide eyes.

"This... this can’t be right. How can someone have this much pure mana? Especially on the third floor? It’s not supposed to be possible..."

The servant muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Fenrir leaned casually against a pillar, arms folded as if he were waiting for a meal to be served.

"It’s simple. I’m not from this floor. I came down because I needed something. Ran into you by accident, and thought I’d help. That’s all."

He said smoothly.

The servant’s eyes narrowed.

"You just happened to stumble across someone desperate for high-level mana? You don’t even know what’s happening on the lower floors? That sounds way too convenient."

Fenrir gave a shrug, his expression blank and harmless.

"Maybe. But I didn’t come here to argue. You said you needed help. I helped. That should be enough."

The servant looked to Gozu, clearly uneasy.

"Young master... this feels wrong. This man appears from nowhere, bypasses the guards like they’re nothing, and casually gives us enough mana to survive the fifth floor’s demands? If this is a trick—"

"It’s not a trick. It’s an opportunity.""

Gozu interrupted, his voice suddenly cold and calculating.

The servant blinked.

"What?"

Gozu turned to him, the soft aristocratic tone gone from his voice.

"Think about it. When will we ever get someone this gullible again? So what if we don’t know where he came from? He can help us pay our taxes, pass inspections, and maybe even get into the good graces of the fifth-floor authorities. Let him play hero. We just need to make use of him."

The servant opened his mouth, then closed it again. It did

make sense.

They were cornered, out of time, and this man—whoever he was—had offered them a way out.

Even if it smelled suspicious, there was no denying the silver light still glowing from the orb. It was real.

"I still think we should be careful. But... fine. We’ll play along. For now."

The servant muttered.

Fenrir, watching them from his spot, smiled innocently, almost idiotically. The kind of smile that didn’t reach the eyes, yet carried no malice. Just a fool’s grin.

But inside, Fenrir was laughing.

’They really think I’m the gullible one. That I walked in here, handed them pure mana, and didn’t know what I was doing. Incredible.’

He watched Gozu nod smugly to himself, already planning how to use Fenrir as a ladder to climb higher in power.

’They don’t even realize they’re already on the leash. And I’m the one holding it.’

Fenrir had no intention of helping these two without benefit.

He had questions—serious ones—about what happened to his old faction, and Gozu was the only connection to that world he’d found so far.

Playing dumb was easy. It would keep them relaxed. Confident. Talkative.

And when the time was right, he’d squeeze the answers out of them.

"Very well. We’re grateful for your generosity. I apologize for the suspicion earlier. These are dangerous times, after all."

Gozu said, his tone turning gracious again.

Fenrir waved it off, his voice light.

"I get it. I would’ve been suspicious too."

Gozu smiled and gestured toward a nearby couch.

"Please, make yourself comfortable. We’ll discuss the finer details of our... partnership."

"Gladly."

Fenrir replied, taking a seat.

As the servant brought drinks and Gozu began asking questions about Fenrir’s supposed background, the young man maintained his clueless act flawlessly.

He told stories of wandering, of searching for a certain item he refused to name, and of being "a little lost" about the tower’s politics.

Gozu believed every word. The servant remained tense, but for now, compliant.

And Fenrir? He just smiled.

’Let them think they’re in control. It makes pulling the rug out from under them so much more satisfying.’