The air in the library was thick with silence. Shelves towered like silent witnesses, their scrolls and tomes holding centuries of forgotten wisdom. The faint scent of parchment and ink mingled with the lingering chill of evening. No one spoke. The ticking of the ancient clock on the wall felt louder than breath. Fenrir sat opposite the Master, the candlelight between them flickering as though afraid to burn too bright in this room of grief.
The man in the black keikogi, the current Head of The School of Wands, Floyd Warshall stood near the door, arms folded, gaze fixed on the floor. His jaw was tight, his composure, brittle.
Across from them, Master Ford leaned slightly forward, eyes half-shadowed by the dim light. His expression gave away nothing, yet the weight of his silence pressed down like a storm waiting to break.
Finally, his voice came calm, low, but edged with quiet steel. "Tell me everything, Fenrir. From the beginning."
Fenrir took a deep breath. He knew this wasn't just a report. This was judgment, memory, and confession all waiting to unfold.
"I first became suspicious after the arrest of Aquinas," Fenrir began, his tone quiet yet sharpened by resentment. "He was a fellow hunter from the Academy, one of the most honorable men I've known. He was arrested because he tried to save a village. The place was already under siege, and the Academy… did nothing. No troops were sent. No reinforcement. Nothing."
He exhaled, his gaze distant, voice tightening with the memory. "Aquinas wasn't supposed to go. But his sense of justice wouldn't let him stay idle. By the time he reached there, it was too late. The entire village was ash. His team was gone. The Academy blamed him for everything. They called it insubordination. They stripped him of his hunter marker and banned him for life. The High Table later declared him innocent but by then, everything he stood for was destroyed."
Fenrir clenched his fists. "That was when I started questioning things. How could serving justice become a crime? How could compassion be punished?"
He glanced toward the shelves, his voice lowering. "So I started digging. I reviewed our old missions, my own party's logs. I realized we weren't hunting monsters… we were burying truths. Every mission, every kill order it all led to covering up something. The Academy was terrified. Terrified that the shadow organization moving behind the scenes would reveal something that could shake the entire world."
He paused, then reached into his coat and drew out a large cylindrical device, faintly humming with residual energy. "My last mission took me to the western desert. We were told to destroy something there. But when we arrived… there was nothing. No ruins, no traces, nothing but sand. Haroun seemed shaken, though he never explained why. I began to suspect that even he, Leader of the Task Masters, was just another pawn of the Elders."
Fenrir set the object on the table with a dull thud. "He had this with him. I don't know what it does. I was hoping you might."
Warshall adjusted his keikogi and leaned forward. "What is it used for?"
"I wish I knew," Fenrir said, sliding it toward Master Ford. "Maybe your magic can tell us."
Bellmen Ford, the old master, held the object with both hands. His eyes narrowed as he began to chant softly, the faint shimmer of seer magic forming around his fingertips. The candlelight bent unnaturally, twisting toward the device. For a moment, everything seemed still until the room cracked with a sound like tearing glass.
Ford gasped and stumbled backward. "Father!" Warshall caught him before he hit the floor.
The old man's breathing was rough. His eyes darted open, glimmering faintly with a trace of spectral blue. "This…" he rasped, "this is beyond us. There's power in this thing far greater than any Elder's reach. Whoever made this, whoever owns this is not of our circle. There are forces moving beyond even the Council's comprehension."
Fenrir nodded grimly. "I was going to mention that." He leaned forward, voice heavy. "I used to think the Elders were protecting a secret by defending the monsters. They always claimed their best hunters were 'on missions.' But those missions were lies. They sent the pupils, the inexperienced, to die while the strong vanished into the shadows. I thought it was politics… until I traveled alone."
He took a deep breath. "On my way here, I was stopped. A man, if you can call him that appeared before me. He looked half-dead, like a corpse, but his strength was monstrous. He was the one who told me Yuhan was dead."
Warshall froze. The room went still again. Fenrir's voice grew darker. "He said Yuhan was part of the shadow organization. Then he attacked me. He wielded a kusarigama, a blade so fast, I couldn't even track the motion. I tried to fight back, but he overwhelmed me. His presence… It was suffocating. Stronger than any Elder. Stronger than anything I've faced."
He lowered his head slightly, his tone grim. "From the way he spoke, I realized he wasn't acting on his own. He was following orders. And that's when I got it, the real enemy isn't the cult, or the monsters, or even the Elders. It's something above them all."
Warshall's jaw tightened. "Then how are you still alive?"
Fenrir looked up. "Because someone intervened." He hesitated, then said, almost disbelievingly, "It was Tesla. He appeared out of nowhere and saved me."
Both Ford and Warshall froze. "What did you say?" Ford's voice cracked the air like a whip. "Tesla? I thought he was working with the elders. He is from the hunter academy. Then why was he helping you?"
Fenrir said, "Yeah, I thought so too. But then I realized, he might be onto something. He announced Aquinas not guilty which furiated the academy. His actions are unclear. But he definitely isn't following the elders."
Ford said, "Might be. The high table was created as a tool of the Hunter academy. They used it to rule the hunter world. And the king was a toy of the elders. But Tesla is different. He is the only King in history whose strength can be compared to the Elders. I was so shocked when he became The Magnet. It was unprecedented for a mage. But still it's hard to believe."
Fenrir nodded. "I am sure. It was him. Tesla, King of The High Table."