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

The sky darkened with a sudden pulse of divine pressure as General Vortan raised his head. His body pulsed with golden light, veins glowing like molten rivers.

Where once his injuries had weakened him, now raw power surged through his limbs. Mira's essence had fused with his, and the air around him trembled under the weight of it.

"I will not let this go unanswered. Mira gave her life for me… and now, you all will pay."

He growled, voice deeper, layered with the echo of divine wrath.

Shelly narrowed her eyes and took a step forward, her chains rattling faintly in the silence that followed.

"You want revenge for her sacrifice? She chose that path. No one killed her. She gave her life to save yours. So tell me, Vortan—who's really responsible for her death?"

She snapped.

Zerg crossed his arms.

"She's right. Your anger is misdirected. You're just trying to soothe your guilt by blaming us."

But Vortan didn't listen.

His divine aura exploded outward in a wave, sending cracks through the ground beneath them. Trees bent, stones lifted into the air, and even the air itself began to hum with tension. His eyes were wild now, lost to rage.

"You were the cause of this war. You escaped your prison, you tore through the floors, you reignited the chaos we sealed away—don't lecture me about sacrifice!"

Vortan roared.

Fenrir, who had been silent till now, finally sighed.

"This is going to take a while, isn't it?"

Zerg looked to him.

"Orders?"

"We end this. and move on. There's still much left to do—and I'm getting tired of cleaning up the divine council's mistakes."

Fenrir said simply.

Shelly smirked and flexed her fingers, her burning chains igniting again.

"Finally. Thought you'd never say it."

Zerg cracked his knuckles.

"Time to see what this newly-powered general can really do."

Vortan didn't wait for them to finish. He charged, hammer raised, golden energy swirling around him.

The ground shook with every step as he lunged toward them like a living calamity.

Shelly was the first to meet him, her chains extending like serpents to catch his weapon mid-swing.

Sparks flew on impact, but the sheer strength of Vortan's blow knocked her back. Zerg intercepted next, stone spikes erupting from the ground to block Vortan's path, but the general shattered them with a single strike.

Fenrir remained still.

He was watching.

Studying.

Vortan's attacks were fast, fueled by desperation and borrowed power—but they lacked control.

They were the wild swings of someone who had already decided this would be their final stand. Powerful, yes. Precise, no.

As Zerg and Shelly flanked Vortan, drawing his attention with coordinated strikes and attacks, Fenrir stepped forward. Slowly. Calmly.

He spoke as he walked.

"Your strength comes from someone else. You didn't earn this. Mira did. And now, you're wasting it."

He said.

Vortan snarled.

"Don't talk like you knew her!"

"I didn't. But I know grief. I know rage. I know what it's like to burn the world just to silence the pain."

Fenrir admitted.

He stopped just outside Vortan's reach.

"But I didn't let it consume me. That's why I'm still here."

Vortan screamed, raising his hammer for one final, crushing strike.

Fenrir didn't move.

He simply vanished.

Illusion.

The hammer crashed into the earth—and Fenrir reappeared behind him.

"Too slow."

With a flick of his fingers, the illusions surged again, blinding light and shadow wrapping around Vortan's senses.

He staggered, trying to regain focus, but it was too late. Zerg's fists crashed into his side like mountains falling. Shelly's chains bound his arms, searing against his skin.

Vortan dropped to one knee, gasping, the glow in his body flickering.

"You still don't get it. You were never going to win."

Shelly whispered.

Zerg looked down at the beaten general.

"Your friend tried to give you a second chance. You wasted it."

Fenrir stepped forward and looked at Vortan, then shook his head.

"We're done here."

He turned to the others.

"Let's go. There are only two left. Two more people… and this tower will remember who I was."

As they walked away from the battlefield, Vortan remained kneeling, fists clenched in the shattered ground.

His strength had failed.

His partner's sacrifice had been in vain.

And Fenrir's shadow loomed larger than ever.

Vortan remained where he had fallen, the golden glow around him flickering like a dying flame.

The battlefield, once a maelstrom of divine power and fury, was now eerily still. Dust hung in the air, and the only sound left was his shallow breathing—ragged, broken.

Behind him, the footprints of Fenrir and his companions slowly faded into the distance.

He had lost.

And worse—he had proven Mira right. She had believed in him, entrusted him with the power of her soul, and all he had done with it was chase vengeance.

His fingers dug into the dirt beneath him, trembling. Not from pain. From shame.

"I was supposed to stop him. That's what you gave me your life for… Mira."

He muttered, barely able to hear his own voice.

But it was over.

He didn't die a hero.

He just failed.

A short distance away, Shelly, Zerg, and Fenrir walked in silence for a moment before Zerg finally spoke.

"So… what now?"

Fenrir didn't look back.

"Now, we climb."

Shelly glanced at him.

"You think the others will come after us too?"

"They will. The council doesn't tolerate failure. Vortan was just the start."

Zerg scoffed.

"Then let them come. I'm tired of hiding. I want them to see what they created by trying to chain us."

Shelly cracked her knuckles.

"They wanted war? Good. We'll give them one."

Fenrir nodded faintly, but his mind wasn't on the next battle. Not fully. He could feel it—his power, his essence, his authority—slowly returning.

The fragments of what he once was were falling back into place, and soon, nothing would be able to stop him.

Not even the divine.

Especially not the divine.

Zerg looked over at him.

"You said there were only two left. Where?"

"Floor 14. It's Valis."

Fenrir replied.

"Then let's go meet him."

Zerg said, fire in his eyes.

But Fenrir raised a hand.

"Not yet. We rest tonight. Just for a moment."

Shelly raised an eyebrow.

"You? Resting? That's new."

"I don't need rest. But I do need you both alive for what's coming. And if we're going to bring down the tower… we need to be at our best."

Fenrir said, a small smile curving his lips.

He looked up at the next stairway ahead—cold, towering, and dark.

This tower had once imprisoned him.

Now, it was going to kneel.