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

The fabric of the tower groaned under its own weight as space twisted and trembled around the shattered seal.

Cracks had formed not just in the structure but in the divine laws themselves. The system stuttered in vain, trying to make sense of what had occurred—what had been unleashed.

A burst of celestial light tore across the cracked sky as the Divine Council descended in haste, their wings outstretched, their faces contorted in fury and panic.

Each of them radiated divine energy strong enough to level entire floors—yet none of them looked at ease.

They had not come to punish.

They had come to plead.

"You fool! You've ruined everything! Do you even understand what you've done?!"

The angelic leader bellowed as they landed before Fenrir, his wings dim and trembling.

Behind them, Shelly, Zerg, Anna, and Valis arrived—panting, wounded, but persistent. They had followed the trail of collapsed reality and arrived in time to hear the council's cries.

Fenrir turned his gaze slowly, as if even acknowledging them required effort now. His power no longer roared—it hummed, deep and constant, like the heartbeat of a god long buried.

"I know exactly what I've done. And I would do it again."

He said calmly, his voice layered with a presence that didn't belong to any mortal tongue.

One of the divine generals stepped forward, his spear trembling in hand.

"This world is bound by equilibrium. The seals, the tower, the balance between realms—they keep reality from breaking apart. That barrier was a failsafe."

"And you just shattered it. That darkness… that thing beyond the veil—do you think it'll stop just because you feel powerful now?"

Another snarled.

Fenrir rolled his shoulders. His expression never shifted.

"Not my problem."

Gasps followed. Anna flinched. Even the members of the council stepped back in stunned silence.

"You're condemning everything—this tower, the mortals, the divine, even your own companions!"

Fenrir turned away from them.

"My companions made their choices. I made mine."

"But the world—!"

The angel cried out, stepping forward again.

"I didn't climb the tower to save a world that tried to erase me. I came to take what was stolen from me. If the world can't survive that… maybe it was never meant to."

Fenrir said sharply.

Before the council could respond, a pressure dropped from above.

A shadow passed through the tower's sky.

It wasn't a cloud.

It wasn't a storm.

It was an eye.

Unblinking. Ancient. Watching.

Every person present froze as a suffocating dread slithered through their bones. Shelly dropped to her knees, clutching her chest. Valis backed away in horror.

Even the council members staggered, their forms flickering with instability.

"What is that…?"

Zerg muttered, his voice dry.

Fenrir looked up.

The tower's sky, once painted in divine white and gold, had turned black. Like ink spilled across the heavens.

And from within that ink, something gazed down at him—not with rage or malice.

But with recognition.

As if it had been waiting for this moment.

For him.

Fenrir narrowed his eyes.

The others yelled behind him, voices lost in the growing static in the air. The system glitched violently, spitting out warnings and broken data.

[ALERT: Entity Class UNKNOWN detected]

[ALERT: Containment breach at core level]

[ALERT—]

Fenrir raised his hand and dismissed the messages.

Then he whispered, "So… you were what they sealed me from."

The eye widened slightly—not in fear, but almost in amusement.

The sky pulsed.

And Fenrir—alone among them—smiled.

The eye blinked once, and the pulse that followed cracked the air like thunder.

The tower trembled beneath Fenrir's feet, entire floors folding and collapsing into themselves somewhere below.

Screams echoed from the far ends of the structure, as divine power met something it could not contain—something older, something deeper.

The council stumbled back instinctively, shields manifesting around them, weapons drawn. They no longer looked like rulers. They looked like insects about to be caught in a storm.

"No…It's awake."

Whispered the angel, wings faltering.

Fenrir didn't respond.

He took a step forward instead—toward the abyss now forming above them, toward the shattered sky, toward the eye still fixed on him with unsettling calm.

The system warning sounded all over the last floor and in the sky.

[WARNING: Dimensional integrity compromised.]

[Do not proceed. Do not proceed.]

[END OF WORLDLINE LIKELY.]

He smiled faintly.

"End it, then."

The winds howled as Boundless Authority awakened fully within him, swirling into a black-and-gold aura that wrapped his figure in a crown of godhood.

His steps no longer echoed against stone—they echoed against the air, bending the space around him as if the world itself wanted to resist.

Behind him, the others shouted something, but Fenrir didn't turn. Their voices were irrelevant now. They had played their part.

This was his finale.

"You don't understand. You're tearing open what was never meant to be seen!"

One of the council members screamed, hurling a spear of light.

The spear disintegrated midair before it even reached him.

"I do understand."

Fenrir replied softly.

He raised his hand, and the final shards of the broken divine seal lifted from the ground, glowing and spinning around him like dying stars.

One by one, they merged into his body, vanishing into his skin like drops of ink into water.

The eye in the sky widened again—this time with hunger.

Recognition became acceptance.

And then… invitation.

From the center of the dark sky, a crack appeared. Not a normal break—this was a rift in space, a wound cut by time itself recoiling from what stood beneath it.

Through it, Fenrir could glimpse beyond.

Endless plains of void and stars that didn't shine. Structures that defied geometry. Thrones without kings. A silence that screamed.

This was what the tower was built to hold back.

Not to protect the divine.

But to protect reality—from him.

And now the gate was open.

Fenrir felt the pull. It wasn't harsh or aggressive. It was familiar, like an old home left behind and finally returned to. His blood—divine in origin—sang in resonance with it.

He took another step.

"Fenrir, stop!"

Someone cried behind him.

He paused.

Slowly, he looked over his shoulder—not at them, but at the tower.

Its walls were broken. Its rules shattered. Its gods disgraced.

He had won.

There was no reason to stay.

Without another word, Fenrir turned back to the sky and stepped forward—into the rift.

The light swallowed him whole.

And the tower… went silent.