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

When Fenrir opened his eyes again, the world was still—unnaturally so.

Dust clung to his skin like memory, but the moment he stirred, it vanished. His body thrummed with energy, not wild or unstable like before, but controlled—refined.

The power of Boundless Authority had fully merged with him. It didn't scream for release. It obeyed.

He exhaled slowly.

"System. How long have I been in the trial?"

He said, his voice steadier than steel.

[System Notification: Trial duration—7 days.]

Seven days. It felt like hours. Maybe less.

Time had twisted itself into something meaningless during the trial. He didn't question it. There was no time for questions.

He reached inward. The power was waiting. His body hummed with the remnants of old scars, long-locked strength now his once more. Not a sliver—everything.

There was only one place left to go.

"Activate Boundless Authority."

He ordered.

The floor beneath him cracked, rippling outward like shattered glass. Space responded. The tower bent at his will.

[System Notification: Floor 19 skipped. Proceeding to Floor 20.]

The world shattered and reformed in an instant.

He was no longer in silence.

The air around him exploded with sound—distant clashes, roars, divine hymns twisted into weapons.

Yet he remained unseen. Wrapped in a veil of illusion, perfected by his newly reclaimed authority, his presence vanished from perception.

He walked unnoticed through the chaos. He didn't glance at the soldiers locked in battle, nor at the divine statues trembling with energy. They were not his concern. They never were.

His eyes were fixed on the altar.

It stood tall at the far end of the battlefield, carved from ancient stone and marked with divine runes that pulsed with a power not even the system dared to interfere with.

Inside it, his final key—his reason.

He approached silently, footsteps making no sound. The divine aura around the altar shimmered, reacting. The scripts ignited, forming a barrier.

It recognized him. And it resisted.

He raised his hand. His fingers didn't tremble. Power surged—not chaotic or loud, but calm and absolute. The runes tried to resist, but Boundless Authority overruled them.

[Warning: Divine seal breach in progress.]

"Try and stop me."

He muttered.

The altar cracked. The seal let out a cry of agony, threads of divine protection ripping apart like paper before a storm.

Energy exploded, but Fenrir didn't flinch. He stepped through the light, shattering the last remnants of the lock.

And then it was done.

The seal collapsed.

The altar disintegrated.

He stood in the wreckage, alone, surrounded by the golden dust of divinity. No guards approached. No gods descended. The tower itself seemed to hold its breath.

The floor rumbled beneath him, sensing his completed awakening.

"Boundless Authority. At last."

He whispered.

A new notification flickered into view:

[System Notification: Full restoration complete. All power and authority reclaimed. Boundless Access unlocked.]

He closed his eyes, letting it sink in. There was no elation, no arrogance—just clarity.

He was whole again.

When he opened them, his gaze turned forward. Past the ruin of the altar. Past the broken laws around him. There, on the other end of the floor, stood a staircase—vast, gleaming, untouched.

The final gate.

He took one step toward it.

Then another.

The tower did not stop him.

No divine guards arrived.

No traps. No sudden attacks.

Nothing.

Because it knew.

He had become something beyond its control.

No longer a climber. Not a rebel. Not a heretic.

A force.

Each step brought him closer—not just to the top, but to the ones who thought they could cast him down. The ones who thought they could keep him shackled, erase his name, bury his history.

He would remind them.

This time, not with words.

Not with mercy.

But with judgment.

He reached the first step of the final staircase.

The air shifted.

It welcomed him.

And Fenrir ascended. Alone. Unstoppable.

The tower trembled.

Not with warning—but with fear.

As Fenrir stepped through the last seal, the air rippled around him like reality itself was recoiling. Ancient engravings along the walls cracked, spilling divine light that flickered and died. The staircase behind him crumbled, severing the last connection to the lower floors. There was no going back now.

It was done.

The barrier had shattered.

The sacred line—the edge between the world of mortals and the domain of the divine—was no more.

All because of him.

Because of the divine blood running through his veins.

Fenrir didn't roar or smile. He didn't need to. His very presence now distorted the structure of the tower. Every breath he took pulsed with power not meant to exist in a single body, not without consequence.

And yet, there he stood. Unbothered. Whole.

Far above, in the sky-wrapped sanctum of the Divine Council, silence reigned.

The angelic leader of the council stared at the images flashing across the divine mirror—images of the shattered seal, of the trembling core of the tower, of the man who now stood at the border of what should have been unreachable.

"Impossible."

One of the councilors whispered.

But it wasn't.

It was Fenrir.

He had done what none had dared.

And the tower itself responded with chaos.

Every floor shook. Systems flickered and glitched. Doors meant to never open cracked ajar.

Floors warped. Mortals, monsters, and divine guards alike fell to their knees, unsure whether they were witnessing ascension or apocalypse.

Fenrir didn't pause.

The divine council's screams, the alarms, the shifting energy across the tower—none of it mattered to him.

He had not come this far for noise or vengeance.

He was looking for something.

He stood at the threshold of the world, gazing past the crumbling remains of the barrier.

In front of him, the air shimmered like liquid glass—space itself distorted, stretching into a horizon of colorless infinity.

And beyond it... something called to him.

Not with words.

But with familiarity.

Fenrir stepped forward.

Each step rippled through the shattered world behind him. The tower tried to correct itself. Divine magic surged upward, forming tendrils of light in a desperate attempt to restrain him.

He waved his hand.

The light bent and broke.

He had authority now. True, limitless, final.

The skies above the tower darkened. A vortex began to form—a massive whirlpool of divine energy spiraling toward him.

It wasn't a punishment. It was instinct. A reaction from the world, trying to close what had been opened.

But it was too late.

The door was open. And Fenrir was already through it.

He stood now in a realm of silence.

A place beyond the system. Beyond the tower. Beyond even the council's influence.

Here, the laws did not apply.

Here, the divine had not tread in eons.

And here, Fenrir would find what he was looking for.

He looked up. There were no stars. Only endless gray. He walked, and the ground formed beneath his feet as if the world waited on his command to exist.

This was not a place one stumbled into.

This was a place meant for a god.

And he—once cast down, once shattered—had returned to claim it.

"Now, let's see what you were hiding."

He muttered.

The system flickered again. Weakly.

[Warning: Existence Level Exceeded. System Support Terminating.]

Fenrir smiled faintly.

"You've done enough."

He said.

He walked deeper into the void.

Unshaken. Unafraid.

Unstoppable.