Fenrir shuddered slightly as he walked down the paved path toward the school building. Something felt… wrong. He couldn't explain it.
There was no threat nearby, no sound, no alarm in the system—just a nagging feeling deep in his bones, as if something significant had happened behind his back.
He tried to reach into that space in his mind where fragments of memory floated, but found only a haze.
Annoyed, he shook his head.
'If I can't remember it, it's not worth my attention.'
He walked on, ignoring the students gathering at the gate. Unlike him, they all wore the standard grey uniform of the Academy—polished, formal, bland.
Fenrir stood out like a stain in his black hoodie and casual pants. Students turned to stare. Whispers echoed around him like buzzing flies.
"Who is that?"
"Did someone let an outsider in?"
"Is he lost?"
"He looks dangerous…"
Fenrir didn't flinch. The words didn't touch him.
He walked through the murmuring sea of uniforms like a shadow slipping through daylight. In another life, he might have found their reactions amusing.
Now, he simply found them predictable.
He reached his classroom, a spacious room near the back of the second floor, and stepped inside. The chatter followed him there too, though more subdued.
"Is he in the right place?"
"That seat's empty because no one wants to sit in the back…"
Fenrir ignored all of it.
He made his way to the furthest seat by the window and dropped into the chair with a relaxed sigh.
It was the perfect place—close enough to see everything, far enough to stay invisible.
He folded his arms on the desk and rested his head on them, already ready to nap through whatever boring mess the Academy had planned for the day.
Until he felt it.
A presence.
Lingering, heavy, watching him from far too close.
Fenrir's eyes opened slowly.
Standing in front of him was a tall young woman with straight black hair tied back in a no-nonsense bun.
She wore the school's elite instructor uniform—black trim instead of grey, and a small golden badge near her collar.
Her arms were crossed, and her eyes were sharp enough to cleave steel.
Her entire posture screamed 'trouble'.
Fenrir stared at her dully for a moment, then closed his eyes again, dismissing her presence entirely.
If she wanted to reprimand him for something stupid like not wearing a uniform, she could talk to the wall.
But she didn't talk.
Instead, her arm moved—fast, practiced—and reached for his shoulder, intent on dragging him upright.
Instinct took over.
Before her fingers even brushed the fabric of his hoodie, Fenrir's hand snapped up, twisted her wrist, and forced her arm behind her back in one fluid motion.
The woman gave a small hiss of pain and froze, her posture locked in place by a grip that radiated pure, ruthless control.
The classroom fell silent.
All the murmurs, the curious stares, the judgmental whispers—they stopped the moment the teacher's arm was twisted and held like she was the student and Fenrir the one in charge.
"…I'd appreciate it if you didn't touch me without permission."
Fenrir said, voice low and cold.
The instructor's jaw clenched.
"Release me. Now!"
She said, her tone composed despite the discomfort.
Fenrir didn't move. For a moment, their gazes clashed—hers full of fire, his dark and unreadable.
Then he let go.
She straightened, rubbing her wrist discreetly as the tension in the room returned like a wave crashing down.
Elaine Croix looked utterly offended as she stared at the boy slouched across his desk, acting as though the classroom were his personal nap space.
Her sharp heels clicked once as she stepped closer again, arms folded tightly across her chest.
"I'll say this one last time. As a member of the discipline committee, I cannot allow a student to remain out of uniform in school premises. You are in violation of school code, and as such, I am marking you as a defaulter and escorting you to the principal's office."
She said, voice cold and firm.
Fenrir didn't even lift his head this time. His eyes stayed half-lidded, barely acknowledging her presence as she continued her lecture.
He wasn't ignoring her because he didn't hear her—on the contrary, he had heard every word.
He remembered Elaine Croix from the body's memories.
A perfect, upstanding student. Head of the discipline committee. Top of her year. Beloved by staff and feared by students for her strict, unbending ideals.
Her world was black and white, order and chaos. Rules were sacred to her, and people like Fenrir—rulebreakers—were a virus she believed needed purging.
And Fenrir?
He was the embodiment of chaos.
Knowing that, he knew the best way to make her combust was to do what she hated most—ignore her.
The silence stretched.
Elaine's jaw twitched. Her perfectly composed image cracked just slightly as her nostrils flared. The class held its breath.
"If you ignore me again, I will be forced to report you to the authorities. You will face disciplinary suspension, and your name will be officially recorded."
She said through gritted teeth.
That finally got a small reaction.
Fenrir blinked slowly, lifting his head just a little, as if her threat had finally reached his ears.
But he didn't look scared. If anything, he looked amused.
"Suspension, huh? Sounds like a vacation."
He murmured, his voice lazy.
Gasps filled the room.
Elaine's hands clenched into fists at her sides.
Fenrir slowly rose to his feet, stretching like a cat who had just awakened from a nap.
His hoodie rose slightly, revealing the edge of toned muscle around his stomach, which a few girls in the class noticed—along with the dangerous glint that never left his eyes.
"But I've got a feeling suspension might mess with some of my plans. So I guess I'll play along… for now."
He said lightly, cracking his neck.
Elaine opened her mouth to speak, but Fenrir cut her off with a wave of his hand.
"Lead the way to the principal. Let's see if the old man's more interesting than your lecture.""
He said, tone playful.
That did it.
Elaine's eyes blazed with restrained fury, and her face flushed with a mix of anger and disbelief.
Every part of her screamed that she wanted to shout at him, to lecture him into oblivion. But her pride—and her carefully crafted reputation—held her back.
She was known for being calm, composed, and precise. Losing control over someone like him would reflect poorly on her authority.
She turned sharply on her heel.
"Follow me."
Fenrir smirked as he trailed behind her, hands in his pockets. The other students parted like a tide, whispering as he passed.
"Did you see that?"
"He talked back to Elaine Croix... and lived."
"Is he crazy?"
"Or rich enough to not care…"
Fenrir heard all those people talking about him but he ignored them. There was no need for him to encourage others after all.
'How should I deal with the principal now?'
______
I'll repost this tomorrow in WPC and give you all a link to it. I hope you will follow there as well and help me out with Power Stones.