CHAPTER 87: CH 87: STARTING NEW SCHOOL- PART 3

Fenrir returned to his lab in silence, the doors closing behind him with a faint hiss as the security lock engaged.

The sterile scent of alchemical herbs and metal filled the air, grounding him.

Without wasting time, he headed to his workstation and began prepping a small batch of recovery potions.

His movements were fluid, automatic, born of countless repetitions.

As the solution bubbled gently in the crystal cauldron, he poured the finished doses into vials and carefully placed them into a foam-padded case to be sent to Legion’s distribution team.

His mind wandered while he cleaned up.

"I did nothing significant today, and I still feel drained."

He muttered. It was true—between sitting through boring lectures, dealing with pretentious classmates, and avoiding unnecessary attention, the day had felt like a drain on his spirit.

No monsters slain, no dungeons cleared, no mysteries unraveled. Just... school. Ordinary and soul-numbing.

He flopped onto the couch in the corner of his lab and closed his eyes. Sleep came quickly, and for once, it was dreamless.

The next morning, Fenrir woke up on time and groaned.

"Round two of this nonsense."

He mumbled as he pulled on his uniform and made his way to school.

Surprisingly, the atmosphere was different today.

The buzz from the previous day’s confrontation had faded into a cautious silence. Most students didn’t even glance at him anymore.

A few classmates offered him half-hearted invitations to join their clubs, more out of formality than genuine interest.

It was clear they were still afraid of him—or more accurately, afraid of what his presence meant.

Fenrir didn’t mind. In fact, he preferred it this way. He didn’t need friends here. He didn’t plan to stay long enough to care.

During lunch, he slipped out of the classroom to take a walk.

The school’s garden paths were neat and quiet, giving him a rare bit of calm in this overly polished environment. But the peace didn’t last long.

Ping.

His system flashed a crimson alert in his vision:

[ALERT: Betty Rose detected nearby. Proceed with caution.]

Fenrir immediately slowed his pace, eyes narrowing. "What the hell is she doing here?"

Turning the next corner carefully, he caught sight of her.

Betty Rose. There was no mistaking her—even in the standard school uniform, her vibrant green hair and commanding aura gave her away.

She stood near the courtyard’s edge, flipping through a book with an expression of utter boredom. She didn’t see him—or at least, pretended not to.

Fenrir’s instincts kicked in. He turned on his heel and walked the other way.

"This isn’t my problem. Whatever she’s planning, I’m not getting involved."

He told himself.

But deep down, he knew what her presence meant. Someone like Betty didn’t just enroll in a school for fun.

No, something was coming. And with her here, this school was likely on borrowed time.

He sighed.

"Well, that settles it. This place is going to ’temporarily’ shut down soon. Just a matter of time."

Later that evening, Fenrir returned home, his backpack slung lazily over one shoulder. He’d barely reached his doorstep when he noticed someone leaning against the wall next to his door.

"Move aside, Renie."

Fenrir said flatly.

Renie pushed herself off the wall and stepped aside with a small smile, but not before adding.

"I need a favor from you, Fenrir."

He paused in the doorway, glancing at her over his shoulder.

"Not interested."

"You haven’t even heard what it is."

Fenrir sighed.

"Let me guess—something annoying, complicated, and most likely dangerous."

She tilted her head playfully.

"All of the above. But I wouldn’t come here if I had other options."

He looked at her fully now, taking in the tired but determined look in her eyes.

Fenrir didn’t bother hiding the look of irritation on his face as Renie followed him inside.

"I said I’m not interested."

He muttered, tossing his bag onto the couch and heading toward the kitchen.

Renie shut the door behind her like she owned the place.

"You didn’t say it like you meant it."

Fenrir turned his head slightly to glare at her. "Leave."

"No."

His fingers twitched, tempted to conjure a small burst of earth magic to shove her out, but he held back. It wasn’t worth the trouble.

Dealing with Renie was always like trying to push back a tide with your bare hands—pointless and exhausting.

So instead, he sighed heavily and walked past her, doing his best to ignore her completely.

Renie, however, was determined not to be ignored.

"I’m not leaving until you say yes."

Fenrir didn’t respond. He walked to his workstation, checking on the progress of a stabilizing agent he had left overnight. The vial glowed a healthy blue. At least something was going right.

Renie moved into the kitchen, opened a cabinet, then closed it.

"Do you even have snacks in this place?"

Fenrir tuned her out.

She spoke again.

"You know, you could be a little more grateful. Most people would jump at the chance to work with me."

That made him snort.

"Most people are idiots."

She laughed and threw herself onto his couch.

"Maybe. But they’re useful idiots."

Fenrir rolled his eyes and went back to ignoring her.

The next morning, Fenrir woke up with a deep pit of dread in his stomach. His instincts were rarely wrong, and today they were screaming.

He stumbled into the kitchen, opened the fridge—then froze.

Empty. Completely empty. No food, no drinks. Not even his emergency ration bars.

"...No."

He muttered, swinging the fridge door shut.

He turned toward his potion cabinet next, already suspecting what he’d find.

Sure enough, two of his experimental potions were gone. The ones he’d been developing to improve mana stabilization over long periods—expensive, volatile, and very much not for casual use.

He stormed out of the kitchen.

"RENIE!"

She was sitting on the floor of his workroom, reading through one of his handwritten journals like it was light bedtime reading.

"What?"

She asked innocently, looking up at him.

"Don’t ’what’ me. You emptied my fridge and stole my potions."

He snapped.

Renie blinked, then tilted her head.

"You had food? And potions? Weird. I didn’t see anything."

"Try harder to lie next time."

He growled.

She smirked.

"You’re still alive, aren’t you? I didn’t take anything critical."

Fenrir’s hands clenched at his sides. He didn’t want to escalate things, but it was taking all his restraint to stop from blasting her through the wall.

Even with his expanded mana pool and recent skill advancements, Renie still outclassed him.

Her reflexes, battle experience, and strength would easily overpower him in a direct fight.

She wasn’t unbeatable—but she was annoying enough to make fighting her feel like a waste of time.

Fenrir exhaled slowly.

"Fine. I’ll do what you want. Just stop loitering in my house. And don’t touch my stuff."

Renie stood up, brushing imaginary dust off her pants.

"Now was that so hard?"

"Yes."

She grinned.

"Good. I want a short sword."

Fenrir blinked.

"That’s it? A sword?"

"Not just any sword. I’m heading into an S-class raid next week, and I need something light, fast, and durable. No frills. Just efficient, and deadly."

Renie said, now sounding serious.

Fenrir’s irritation faded slightly. Work, at least, he could deal with.

"Specs?"

"Thirty-centimeter blade. Slight curve. No elemental infusion. I’ll handle that on my end. Prioritize mana conductivity. I need it to react instantly to my intent."

He nodded slowly, the gears already turning in his head. "Fine. But just this one time."

"Perfect."

He raised a brow.

"And in return?"

Renie’s eyes sparkled.

"I’ll find you something you’ll actually care about. Word is, this raid might lead to an echo of the Tower."

That caught Fenrir off guard.

"You’re sure?"

"I never said I was sure. But it’s a possibility. There’s a shift in mana currents near the raid site, and those only happen when something old and powerful starts to stir."

Renie replied.