Tyrant's return: Reborn as a Good-For-Nothing Young Master

The streets of Floor 10 descended into chaos the moment the message spread:

"Criminal Zerg has escaped!"

A handful of guards who had managed to survive the sheer force of Monarch's Pressure shouted through their comms, calling for reinforcements.

The name "Zerg" echoed through the streets, igniting fear and confusion alike. He had been labeled a traitor, a weapon, a forgotten war criminal—and now, he was loose once more, with an unknown ally beside him.

Every corner of the town trembled. Shops slammed their shutters closed, civilians ducked indoors, and the tower's automated security systems kicked into alert mode.

Holographic warnings flared in the sky, flashing red across the buildings.

"Where is Lady Zelphra?! Why hasn't she responded?!"

Someone screamed in the control center.

"She's missing! None of her guards have seen her since this morning!"

Another cried.

In her estate, a flurry of panicked servants rushed around, trying to contact their absent lady. Her private quarters were empty, her sword stand untouched. It was like she had simply vanished.

And then the call came.

One of her subordinates picked up the buzzing device with trembling hands. On the other end, a calm, cold voice spoke from the divine council's central command.

"This is Council Channel 003. Why is there unrest on Floor 10? Why has Zerg's containment been breached?"

The subordinate straightened, trying to keep their voice from shaking.

"My lords, we—we don't have full details yet. Lady Zelphra has gone missing. Lord Zerg has escaped. There's a second individual aiding him, and we believe it may be an intruder."

There was a long silence on the other side of the call before a different, sharper voice snapped.

"Capture Zerg. Whatever it takes. Use the full floor authority if needed. Do not let him leave."

"Yes, my lords," the subordinate stammered.

The call ended.

He turned to the others in the room, pale and sweating.

"They want us to fight Zerg."

The others exchanged looks.

"Are they mad? They've sealed that man for years and sucked him dry just to keep him contained. If he's still standing after all that—"

Someone muttered.

"I'm not dying for the divine council."

Another snapped.

One by one, they started to back away, until finally, the entire command center emptied out in less than five minutes. Uniforms and ID tags were left behind, scattered across the floor like fallen leaves.

Elsewhere, above the chaos, Zerg stood on the rooftop of a tall, weathered building, his arms folded and his posture slouched. His eyes, dulled by years of torment, flickered across the town that once praised him and later abandoned him.

"Is this worth it? Or have you gone soft in your old age?"

He asked, his voice low.

Fenrir stood beside him, arms crossed, his gaze unfazed by the smoke and sirens in the distance.

"You've known me too long to ask that,"

Fenrir replied dryly.

"Don't mistake a calculated move for mercy. This chaos is only a spark. And I'll be long gone before the flames catch up."

Zerg huffed.

"Back in the day, you'd have razed the entire floor without blinking."

"I still can. But that's not the plan right now. No need to burn the house down when you only need to unlock the next door."

Fenrir said.

Zerg glanced over.

"So that's what this is about… the next floor?"

"I didn't come here to liberate you for sentimental reasons,"

Fenrir said bluntly. "I came because you made a promise to me. And it's time you paid up. You're still the same. Always keeping score."

Zerg gave a tired laugh.

Fenrir didn't smile.

"And you're still too talkative."

He turned toward the shadows where his system interface hovered. Lines of glowing code flashed as the countdown to the floor gate began. He gave Zerg a nod.

"Be ready. We leave in one hour."

As alarms echoed through the air and the divine council scrambled to control the narrative, Fenrir and Zerg disappeared into the city's veins, leaving behind nothing but confusion, fear, and a growing sense that something old—something dangerous—had returned.

______

Zerg and Fenrir moved quietly through the narrow mountain path that led toward the gate of the 10th floor.

The towering exit shimmered faintly in the distance, the system's sigils glowing with approval, ready to transport them to the next floor.

Just as they were about to reach the threshold, Fenrir slowed to a halt.

Zerg noticed and turned.

"What is it?"

Fenrir didn't answer immediately. His sharp eyes scanned the space ahead. The wind shifted slightly, and he frowned.

"Someone's waiting."

Zerg instinctively reached for a weapon, but Fenrir raised a hand.

"No need. Let's see what they want before we kill them."

Zerg nodded slowly, stepping back while Fenrir moved ahead. Out of the shimmering light of the gate, a silhouette emerged—calm, steady, and familiar.

Zelphra.

Her expression was unreadable as she stepped into full view. Her armor had been discarded, and her coat was covered in dust, but her stance was firm. She stopped a few steps from the gate and looked straight at the two of them.

Zerg's brows furrowed.

"What are you doing here?"

Zelphra looked at him, her voice clear.

"I'm coming with you."

Fenrir narrowed his eyes.

Zelphra continued.

"I've served the divine council long enough. The only reason I stayed was to make sure they didn't kill you, Father. But now that you're free, I don't have any reason left to protect them. I want to see them fall."

Zerg stared at her, unsure whether to believe her.

"You betrayed me."

"I protected you. They would've killed you a long time ago if I hadn't stood by their side. I kept you alive, even if it meant being the enemy to your face."

She said with more force.

Zelphra then turned to Fenrir.

"I know where the rest of your people are—those who followed you in the past and those who were scattered after your fall. I've been watching them for years. If you take me with you, I can help you bring them back."

Fenrir crossed his arms, saying nothing at first. He turned to Zerg with a questioning look.

"Well? This is your daughter. What do you think?"

Zerg looked tired. He closed his eyes briefly before letting out a long breath.

"No."

Zelphra blinked.

"What?"

"I don't want you with us. I don't trust myself around you. And I don't want to put you in danger again. Go hide. Live your peaceful life, like you said before."

Zerg said firmly, not unkindly.

"I've changed my mind."

She said, softer now.

Zerg shook his head.

"I haven't."

There was a pause. The weight of his rejection lingered in the air like a wound that refused to close.

Zelphra clenched her fists, her knuckles white.

"I understand. But I'm not hiding anymore. You don't want me with you, fine. I'll fight my own war."

She finally said, voice low.

She turned around, not waiting for another word. Her shoulders were stiff, her steps even. She didn't look back.

Zerg watched her go, his jaw set.

"You sure about that?"

Fenrir asked after a while.

"No. But it's what has to be done."

Zerg admitted.

Fenrir didn't press further. He gave a last glance at the path Zelphra disappeared into, then turned to the glowing gate ahead.

"Let's go. The next floor won't wait."

With that, the two of them stepped forward, leaving Floor 10 behind. The past remained there—scattered, broken, and unresolved.