Fenrir sat atop a tall bell tower, overlooking the moonlit capital. Dark clouds in the distance threatened rain in the coming days. Torches and the few Mage Lights worked to dispel the darkness in the streets, but there was no need. None dared to walk the streets at night. At least none with good intentions.

In the last two months, tensions have only continued to grow. Just the night before, Fenrir had watched as two large groups of civilians attacked each other on the street for no other reason than the Magic they used. Not even what they used it for.

Yet that was not what Fenrir thought about. He was actually thinking about two things, that devolved into multiple thoughts of their own.

Firstly, how Evelyn was doing. Despite the one hundred Shadow Assassins he had scouring the city, he had not found her. He prioritized the homes of the influential but had not had much luck. There were simply too many. He did not have enough information to go on.

Instead, he had tasked the Shadows to listen into the influentials’ conversations, hoping to hear some mention of her. But that also was not working. The only thing people were talking about nowadays was the stigma. Something that, while Fenrir disliked, he did not care about.

He had practically taken over the Slums and ruthlessly expelled any source of the stigma, but that was only because he had other plans for the people of the Slums. Plans for his revenge. Plans that could not be disturbed by the chaos of mindless hate.

Unfortunately, the Capital city of Lissura, Zolis, was simply too large. And due to the large number of important people, there were many places that not even his Shadows could reach. None of his Shadows could get within a mile of the Royal Castle.

Nevertheless, Fenrir kept looking. It was only a matter of time. He knew that she wasn’t being mistreated and that she had been taken by someone of considerable influence. So he was bound to hear something about a notable person taking in a common girl.

At least he hoped so. It had been many years. Anything could have happened. But he chose to be optimistic, something that felt foreign to him. He refused to consider any other possibility.

But while these thoughts plagued the back of his mind, they were not the thoughts he was currently wrestling with.

As Fenrir sat atop the belltower, the large bell hanging below him, he considered what made a person just that. What made someone a person? Shortly after leaving Alaster, Fenrir had noticed that he had begun acting as his own person, not a mere copy.

Alaster had suspected that the different bodies could potentially grow their own personalities, and it seemed he was right.

Fenrir had the same mind as Alaster, the same thoughts. It was just that the two would now do things slightly differently. If tasked with securing the aid of an individual or group, while Alaster would attempt to negotiate a favorable deal, Fenrir would instead strike fear into them, until they offered their aid.

Fenrir was more brutal than Alaster, something neither of them minded. Brutality had its place. Alaster had learned that firsthand and was quite a fan of using it. He simply preferred to take other roads first before resorting to pure savagery.

Not that Fenrir could not use other methods, he simply preferred to rip and tear his way to the goal than any other. This is what caused Fenrir to simply eradicate the other Slum Gangs instead of negotiating with them. He saw no need.

Alaster suspected that Fenrir was such due to the emotions and thoughts he had while creating Fenrir’s body. Fenrir’s true body was that of some sort of Demonic Wolf, so his personality gradually changed to fit that persona.

Now, while the two were still firmly connected, they could now act completely independently from each other. They could even conceal certain things from each other.

It was a fascinating feeling to split your consciousness into two and have one part begin acting completely on its own, yet still in accordance with your desires.

While Alaster was busy waging his own war against the Monsters in between Galmore and Onigas, Fenrir was calmly relaxing within the safety of a Kingdom’s Capital.

At least, he was, until he felt his connection to three Shadow Assassins vanish.

Standing up, Fenrir turned in the direction of their destruction. He was quite intrigued. They had not been attacked by anything. If they had, even if they hadn’t seen or sensed it, the feeling would have been different. They had not been destroyed. They had been erased.

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The Shadows were powerful enough that they had not yet met someone with a Holy affinity strong enough to damage them, let alone erase them, through proximity. They had spotted a few individuals whose presence was uncomfortable for them, but not notice them, let alone harm them.

Fenrir casually made his way over, curious more than annoyed. He ordered a few other Shadows closer as well, instructing them to be careful about getting too close. Fenrir was quite interested to see the person capable of vaporizing his Minions simply by walking too close. Such a person was bound to be interesting.

Alaster’s campaign in the forest was taking longer than originally expected, which caused a delay on some of Fenrir’s plans. In short, the wolf was bored.

He had even begun working on a wolf Minion similar to Nightmare. An Undead who had two forms, one of which looked normal. He did not see a practical reason for it. He just thought it was cool.

Fenrir used [Swap] with a Shadow nearby the area and began to walk the rest of the way. He was in no rush. Besides, two other Shadows were hurriedly making their way over in hopes of catching sight of the individual.

The streets were deserted, as they often were these days. The only sound was that of Fenrir’s armored feet lightly scraping against the stone road. A faint breeze blew through, bringing with it the usual scents of city life. Most of which were unpleasant, especially for someone with a heightened animalistic smell.

Fenrir allowed his mind to wander as he casually observed the buildings go by. Unfortunately, he was forced to focus when the Shadows were once again erased before they could see the reason.

A few minutes passed in silence as Fenrir traveled closer to the source. He did not really know the exact location of his target. He simply thought that if he got close enough, he could feel it. And a few minutes later, he was proven right.

Alaster had of course met individuals with a high affinity to Holy Magic, or similar Magic. Simply just Magic that worked counter to Necrotic Magic. To some degree, even Plant Magic countered Necrotic Magic. So, while Alaster had met plenty who gave off an unpleasant aura to him, he had never encountered someone whose aura was so repulsive.

Fenrir found himself gagging, which should have been impossible considering he quite literally did not have a stomach. If he did decide to eat, his body would burn it away before it reached the usual spot for a stomach.

An oppressive aura of Holy Magic engulfed Fenrir. Swallowing him, as if attempting to purge him, slowly eating away at him. A quick check of his Status showed that he was in fact taking damage.

Alaster had heard of Opposite Magic Aura repelling the Users, much like a stench. He had even heard of them weakening each other’s Magic. But he had never heard of an Aura being so powerful, so oppressive, that it did physical damage.

At this distance, the damage was negligible, even for the average Adept. But Fenrir had not even seen the source of the Aura yet. After a moment of thought, Fenrir shrugged and pushed forward. His passive Health Regen was extremely high even for Experts. Before the damage even had time to do anything, it was already healed.

The deeper Fenrir went into the Aura, the higher the damage became. Yet deeper he pushed, more out of professional curiosity than anything else.

For the first time in many months, Alaster, and in extension, Fenrir, found their health draining faster than their Passive Health Regeneration.

‘This is definitely going to be fun.’

Turning the corner of the street, Fenrir finally spotted the source of the Aura.

The man was tall, muscular, and conventionally handsome. His white plate armor had a thin gold trim that seemed to glow in the darkness. He was the very image of a Hero from a storybook. His blonde hair was long, but not long enough to cover his ears or touch his shoulders.

The man turned to Fenrir, his steel blue eyes seeming to flash for a moment. In his hand, Fenrir saw a blade that any fool would recognize.

“Hello there.” The man greeted with a practiced smile.

“Good evening.” Fenrir replied warily.

Even with over a hundred feet between them, neither had issue hearing the other, evening speaking normally. Despite the casual way Fenrir spoke, his body was racked with pain as it slowly broke apart from within.

“Might I have the honor of knowing your name?” The man asked.

“I do believe it is rude to ask for a name without giving one.” Fenrir spoke.

The man chuckled, “Of course, where are my manners? I am Sir Castiel, and you?”

“I am known as Fenrir.” Even as he spoke he was internally screaming at himself. Why had he told the truth? He had prepared a false name yet when asked, he had given his real name naturally. He was just glad he had not spoken his true name.

“Fenrir? Hmmm. Would I know you from anywhere?” Sir Castiel rubbed his chin in thought.

“No.”

Sir Castiel straightened, “Good. Then no one will complain if I cleanse your filth from this City.”

Without warning, he shot forward, shattering the stone beneath his feet in an explosion. In just half a second, he crossed the hundred feet, his legendary blade raised for a lethal strike. Only for the blow to cleave through air.

The moment Fenrir saw the man, he had prepared [Swap]. Even as he spoke that final sentence, Fenrir had activated the Spell. He swapped locations with a far Shadow Assassin. It disintegrated in an instant when exposed to the pure Holy Aura so closely, not leaving a single shred of evidence as to how Fenrir had gotten away.

Fenrir fell to the ground, chest heaving, both from pain, and from adrenaline. Alaster had never seen something move so quickly or with such precision and strength. The man had transformed from a dignified hero to a monstruous predator in an instant.

Fenrir let his head fall to the ground, fighting to control his breathing. This body did not even need to breathe, it was just a natural feeling.

“Sir Castiel?” Fenrir spoke to the night, “Huh.”