Terror.

Terror.

Draf, leader of the Razor Edge Thieves' Guild, had never felt such an emotion in his life.

Until now.

A few moments ago, his once familiar office had become enshrouded in an aura that made him feel as if he was already dead[1], a mere ghost, no longer belonging in the land of the living. In his childhood, Draf had only had a single goal: to survive. However, ever since he had risen into his position as one of the most powerful criminals in the city, Draf's goals had shifted towards comfort, pleasure, and eventually debauchery.

But now, something about the aura stripped all of those away from him. He had no brainpower to think about debauchery anymore. He wanted to survive. He didn't want to die. And yet, he was certain that he was dead. He couldn't even move.

The door in front of Draf opened. The man saw a masked boy. A gleam of red emanated from the eye slits of the mask, a demonic[2] glow that enveloped his entire being. He knew that his time had come.

"I don't... want to go..."

And so the guild master of the Razor Edges, one of the three most powerful criminals in the Imperial City, collapsed into a pile of dust.[3]

Fenrir turned to the trembling man who had guided him to Draf's office. Retracting the fraction of his Fae talent that he had extended over the guild, the surroundings stopped feeling so ethereal for the humans there, and Fenrir felt a little less at home.

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"You are the guild leader now. You will obey me?"

Shakily, the man nodded. He had one of the cleanest souls in the entire guild.

Fenrir passed him a folded slip of paper.

"Here are your orders. Carry them out well, and you will be rewarded. I will be watching."

Then, the masked figure sank into his own shadow, and disappeared.

That night, the criminal guilds of the city were all forcefully taken over. The criminals that the King's spies had considered the most "evil" were all turned to piles of dust, and the King himself became anxious and worried about the disturbances this may cause in the underworld of his city. After all, as King, he naturally would be aware of the criminal activity in the capitol of his nation, and his seat of power. However, he knew that there was no way for him to completely eliminate it, and chose instead to do his best to control it.

Of course, the fact that all of the crime in the city was now under the control of one person- this Fox- was cause for concern. The guilds previously kept each other in check with their petty rivalries. Now that they were united, they were a potential threat...

As the King racked his mind for ideas, Fenrir lay on a rooftop, watching the stars. He had not eliminated all of the criminals with dirty souls; he had simply killed the ones who had souls dirty enough to disgust him. Just because one's soul was currently dirty did not mean there was no chance of redemption. However, if someone with a dirty soul was about to do something unforgivable, he would kill them without hesitation. To allow them to live would be to take a gamble with no profit; losing an innocent life to pay for a possibility of an innocent life. There was no profit even if the criminal did reform themself. And as for the ones who he did kill... He was a Fae, after all.