After the club meeting—an entirely dull affair filled with bickering over booth sizes, sponsor placements, and who would mix what herbs—Fenrir made his exit before anyone could rope him into additional responsibilities.
He moved fast and quiet, navigating the emptying hallways with the precision of someone escaping a crime scene rather than a student leaving school.
As he reached the school's outer courtyard, his steps slowed.
Something caught his eye.
Near one of the rose hedges by the east wall, Elaine Croix crouched low, glancing around with a nervous edge.
Her long hair was pulled into a tight braid, and her normally composed expression was replaced by one laced with hesitation. Fenrir narrowed his eyes.
Elaine took something from her inventory—small and wrapped in dark cloth—and began digging into the soft dirt with her hands.
She didn't notice Fenrir standing behind the tree-lined pathway as she buried the object, patting the dirt down with quick, precise movements.
Suspicious? Absolutely.
Troublesome? Even more so.
Fenrir quickly decided that whatever mess she was creating, he wanted no part in it.
He turned sharply on his heel and walked the other way, pretending not to see anything. The less he knew, the better.
But fate, as always, had other plans.
"Fenrir!"
A loud voice called out, shattering the quiet tension of the evening.
Dain.
Fenrir winced and resisted the urge to run.
Dain came barreling out of the building like a charging bull, waving at him with one hand while holding some papers in the other.
"Why are you leaving right after the meeting?! We were supposed to talk about club-"
Dain's voice carried like thunder across the courtyard, and Fenrir's eyes flicked back toward Elaine.
Sure enough, her head snapped up, startled, her wide violet eyes locking onto him and Dain in an instant.
She froze.
Fenrir braced for her to run.
Instead, Elaine pulled out a small, palm-sized orb from her inventory and hurled it toward them.
A smoke bomb.
Instinct kicked in before surprise could register.
Fenrir moved slightly to the side, already preparing a barrier spell—but Dain was faster.
He struck the bomb midair with a burst of wind magic, causing it to detonate prematurely and harmlessly in the air with a puff of white smoke.
But Elaine had already vanished into the cloud.
"Hey! Stop!"
Dain shouted, already dashing after her.
Fenrir sighed, watching Dain's rapidly disappearing figure.
'That fool. I have no idea why he decided to follow after Elaine when she made it clear that she did not want to be followed. But oh well, this is none of my concern.'
Fenrir had his own priorities and none of them involved Daine or Elaine.
He had no intention of getting involved—but now that he'd been seen, walking away clean might be difficult.
Still, his first step was backwards, toward the path home.
"Fenrir! Are you seriously not coming?!"
Dain's voice echoed back.
Fenrir watched Dain disappear into the trees, chasing after Elaine like a loyal dog after its owner.
He didn't call out, didn't follow, didn't even glance twice. Whatever mess those two had stumbled into, he had no interest in becoming part of it.
He turned his back to the scene and started walking down the main path, his steps slow, deliberate.
But something was off.
Fenrir paused briefly, pretending to adjust his coat collar, and scanned the surroundings with his senses rather than his eyes.
The prickling sensation along his neck, the slight irregularity in the air—he was being watched.
Not by one person.
Multiple.
'Tsk. Looks like trouble decided to find me one way or the other.'
His instincts, honed after two lifetimes of surviving in dangerous worlds, screamed at him. He resisted the urge to check over his shoulder.
Instead, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and casually strolled in the opposite direction of the academy gates.
He didn't head toward the lab, even though that was his usual route.
If someone was tracking him, there was no need to lead them toward his base of operations.
Let them follow.
Let them think he was unaware.
As he rounded a corner into a quieter part of the city, the buildings became more run-down and fewer people were around.
The perfect place to test a theory—or spring a trap.
Fenrir chose an old alleyway lined with forgotten storage buildings and the faint smell of mildew. It was narrow, blocked at one end, and an ideal place for an ambush.
Which, ironically, made it perfect for his purposes.
He stepped inside, making sure his footsteps echoed loud and clear. The silence that followed wasn't natural—too quiet, too calculated.
And then came the sound of light feet behind him.
They were close now. Too close.
'So they're confident. Maybe even arrogant. Should I take the gamble or not?'
Fenrir thought before deciding that saving his life was the most important thing to do.
He reached the center of the alley and stopped, leaning lightly against a broken crate.
He tilted his head up, pretending to admire the fading sky above.
The scent came next—faint at first, but unmistakable. A floral and chemical blend with an edge of sharp mint.
'Sleep potion. Fast-acting. Human-effective. Not lethal… but just enough to dull the mind and nerves.'
He didn't flinch when a gloved hand clamped around his mouth, pressing a cloth soaked with the potion against his nose.
Instead, he inhaled—just enough to understand the strength.
'About five seconds for a full blackout. Two seconds for disorientation.'
Fenrir made his decision instantly.
He sagged.
Let his body go limp just enough.
The hand on his mouth hesitated, surprised by the sudden success.
Three seconds in.
The cloth was pulled away too soon, the captor probably thinking the job was done. Just like Fenrir had hoped.
Inside, his mind was alert.
His mana was suppressed, masked to make him appear weaker than he was.
His breathing was shallow but controlled, and his eyes fluttered shut just enough to complete the illusion.
'Let's see if this works or not.'
"Got him."
A voice muttered behind him.
"He didn't even resist. This guy's supposed to be tough? I though there were guards supposed to protect him."
Another whispered.
"You believe all those rumors online?"
A pair of hands grabbed him under the arms and began dragging him out of the alley. Fenrir let them.
'Two people. At least. Maybe three.'
He committed their voices and scents to memory. They werre professionals, most likely contracted to capture him.
They didn't know who they were dealing with.
Which was exactly what Fenrir wanted.
The group moved quickly, keeping to the shadows.
They made no effort to speak again, likely worried someone had seen them.
Fenrir caught a glimpse of a dark carriage-like vehicle at the end of a side street. He was lifted inside and dumped onto the padded floor.
The door slammed shut.
The vehicle began to move.
Fenrir let the motion jostle his limbs. He had no intention of waking up until he got to wherever they were taking him.
Because that was when the real game would begin.
'You wanted to meet me so badly? Fine. Let's see what kind of fools you are.'