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

As the heavy doors to Floor 15 swung open, Fenrir turned to face the three figures following him—Zerg, Shelly, and Valis.

His eyes gleamed with purpose, his aura steady yet heavy with power. There was no longer any hesitation in his steps, only the calm certainty of someone nearing the end of a long, blood-soaked path.

"This is it. The last leg of our journey. Once we retrieve Anna and the final piece of my power, there will be no more need to hold back. The Divine Council will fall, and their throne… will be ours."

Fenrir said, voice low but resolute.

Zerg gave a satisfied grin and cracked his knuckles. "About damn time. I'm sick of pretending like any of those divine fossils could actually stop us."

Shelly, however, didn't share his enthusiasm. She folded her arms and frowned, eyes narrowing as she looked ahead at the desolate floor.

"That won't be the end of it, Fenrir. You know that, right? We've talked about this before. To breach the final layer of the tower—to enter the gods' chamber beyond the core floor—you need divine blood. Not even your current power is enough for that."

Her gaze sharpened.

"And after what happened to you in your past life… that bloodline is all but gone. Rare beyond rare. You sure you aren't forgetting something important?"

Fenrir looked back at her with a small smirk.

"You're underestimating me, Shelly. I made preparations long before I even began this climb. This body—this vessel I'm using now—is filled with divine blood. It's why the system chose me again. I made sure of it."

Zerg's laugh boomed through the empty corridor.

"Ha! Of course you did! Damn, Fenrir, you're more of a lunatic than I remembered—and I mean that in the best way possible. I knew there was no way you'd step into this war without a key to the final door."

Even Valis, who had been quiet for the past few minutes, allowed himself a small nod.

"Then we're closer than I thought."

The group began moving forward, entering the 15th floor with cautious steps. But what met them wasn't resistance or traps—it was silence. Deafening, eerie silence.

There were no guards stationed at the entry points. No watchers behind the windows. No enforcers patrolling the narrow alleys.

Instead, as the people caught sight of them, they scattered in all directions.

Civilians, merchants, even lower-ranked enforcers—they all fled at the first sign of Fenrir's group. Doors slammed shut. Windows darkened. A few even knelt, heads bowed low in fear, hoping to be spared.

Shelly raised an eyebrow.

"They're actually running away."

Zerg looked around, slightly disappointed.

"And here I was hoping we'd get a proper welcome party."

"No one's going to fight us anymore. Not after what we've done to the last few floors. This is no longer a rebellion in their eyes. It's a purge. They know the Council's losing."

Valis said quietly, scanning the streets.

Shelly clicked her tongue.

"Cowards. They're fine harassing us when they have ten layers of divine shields protecting them, but the moment we're the ones knocking on their doors, they fold."

Fenrir didn't say anything for a moment.

He simply walked through the empty plaza, boots echoing over stone. His gaze remained forward, expression unreadable. But then he finally broke the silence.

"This is what fear looks like. They thought they could control the tower forever—keep humans beneath their boots, use divine power to dictate life and death."

His tone dropped, a quiet fury building in his voice.

"Now they finally realize what happens when someone like me remembers what was taken."

Zerg stepped beside him.

"So what's the plan now?"

"We find Anna. She's the last one left. With her, our original force is complete. And once I reclaim the final fragment of my power... we don't wait anymore. We end this."

Fenrir said. "

Shelly shot him a side glance.

"You sure Anna will be cooperative? She wasn't exactly the easiest to deal with last time."

Fenrir smirked.

"She'll come around. Anna never broke under pressure, not even when the Council had her under lock and chain. If anything, I think she'll be eager to settle the score."

Zerg nodded, his grin returning.

"Then let's stop wasting time."

The four of them moved deeper into Floor 15. No one stopped them.

The tower, once a seemingly endless machine of control and resistance, now felt more like a hollow shell—its guardians fallen, its fearsome wards shattered, and its spirit already broken.

And yet, in that silence, a tension still loomed—an unspoken warning that the true battle had yet to begin.

But Fenrir welcomed that.

Let them hide. Let them plan. Let them pray.

He would still come for them.

And this time, no divine blood, no ancient law, no god or general, would be enough to stop him.

______

Inside the solemn halls of the Divine Council, an oppressive silence hung over the chamber like a heavy shroud.

The usual glow of celestial light that bathed the room seemed dimmer today, as if the tower itself mourned the loss of two of its most powerful defenders.

The council members sat in grim silence, heads bowed, as two thrones at the circle's edge remained eerily vacant.

"They were our own. Two of the Twelve. Fallen… like common soldiers."

One of the robed figures finally said, voice trembling with both grief and rage.

Another member, a woman with glowing silver eyes, slammed her palm against the table. "We underestimated him.

Again. How many more have to fall before we act decisively?"

The leader of the council—an imposing angel with six radiant wings folded behind his back—stood slowly.

His divine presence brought instant quiet to the chamber. His once serene expression had hardened into something more unreadable. Worn, but not defeated.

"We do not act on emotion. That mistake is what cost us Mira and Vortan."

He said, voice low yet commanding.

"But if we don't do something now, Fenrir will march straight up to this chamber!"

Someone else barked.

"We sealed him once. We can do it again."

The angel closed his eyes.

"And how well did that work out?"

Murmurs rippled through the room. None dared speak against him directly.

"Fenrir Black has regained more of his strength than we anticipated," the angel continued. "And with every general he recovers, he becomes more dangerous. His companions are no longer the shadows of what they once were. They are warriors again. And we are bleeding."

"So… what do we do?" a younger member finally asked. "Wait and let him come to us?"

The angel's eyes opened, glowing faintly with divine light. "Yes."

A gasp echoed through the room.

"We wait,"

He repeated.

"We leave them be. Let them believe they are safe. Let them believe we've lost the will to fight. That is when they will lower their guard. That is when we strike. Not with a handful of generals—but with everything we have."

The silence that followed was a mixture of dread and reluctant understanding. A trap had worked once. It could work again. And this time, there would be no second chance for Fenrir Black.

They would end it all.