Fenrir slouched in his seat, his body aching. The only other time he had felt like this is when he faced Sir Castiel, whose mere holy presence was enough to nearly disintegrate him.

  Only yesterday, he had found and revealed his real identity to Mike, or at least the identity of his true body. It was quite confusing. Mike had seemed fascinated with the idea of using Necrotic Magic, a Magic that already specializes in creating bodies out of pure Magic and utilizing Souls, to create a body that the user can use as a second body.

  He compared it to a permanent minion. Something that Fenrir took personally. It just seemed demeaning to be compared to just any other Minion. Sure, Alaster was creating and training Forgotten, which were also permanent Minions If Alaster died, they would still remain because they were bound to their Mana Crystal and not to his Soul, at least not directly. But it seemed quite crude to compare the two.

  However, Fenrir’s current ache was not from explaining as much of the process to Mike, but of reuniting with Thomas. Tom did not care about Fenrir technically not being Alaster, he did not even understand the difference, all he cared about was that they had finally found their long-lost friend.

  Mike as least understood that while Fenrir was built as a second body to the same Soul as Alaster, that Fenrir had developed his own personality. So while the two bodies shared goals and could share senses and thoughts, they still acted differently.

  Fenrir, for example, had embraced his second form, that of a Demonic looking Wolf, and become more animalistic. Fenrir was rougher, more direct, and ruthless. He was more in tune with his emotions, and sometimes let them control him. Something that Tom encouraged.

  When Mike had first informed Tom about Fenrir, all he had said was that they had found a direct link to Alaster. Tom had been expecting to find someone who had met him before and might know where their friend was. But when he saw Fenrir, his senses screamed at him that he was Alaster. Tom consciously understood that the two were connected, but separate, but his senses told him that they were the same person.

  Tom had hugged Fenrir for several hours, unwilling to let him go for fear that he would vanish once again. And despite how powerful Fenrir himself was, Tom’s strength had cracked many of the bones that comprised Fenrir’s artificial body. Had it been a normal person, Tom would have casually, and unintentionally, killed them.

  The pair had left a few hours earlier, leaving Fenrir alone to deal with Quinn. Fenrir’s Shadow Assassins had finally located him.

  In the back of Fenrir’s mind he had noticed that before the two had left, Tom had seemed to want to say something but hesitated when Mike gently shook his head. He wondered what it was that Tom had wanted to say, but he respected the two enough to not push the matter, especially after seeing them for the first time after so many years.

  He doubted it was anything that could harm him, so he was fine with letting it remain secret until they decided otherwise. Before they left, however, they did tell Fenrir where they had been staying, in case he needed to get a hold of them. They also informed him that they would return to the abandoned building sometime in the evening the next day.

  Shortly after they left, Fenrir vanished from the building and appeared near to the target. For the first time, Fenrir, and therefore Alaster, caught sight of one of the men responsible for the death of his parents and kidnapping of his sister.

  He was not impressed.

  Watching from the roof above, Fenrir saw a drunkard shuffling around the streets in the redlight district. From the way those around him reacted, he was a regular. The man sloppily smiled at the scantily dressed women and joked with the men he passed. He was clearly well known in the area. Some liked him, some didn’t, and some seemed to only tolerate him for the coin he spent.

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  Quinn was a small man, and while his body had thickened recently, it was clear that his body had once been fit and built of muscle. His clothes were common and well worn, with various stains. His long stringy brown hair fell slightly below his shoulders and his unkept beard.

  Yet, despite his disgusting appearance, and his drunkenness, even as he lifted a large jug of even more alcohol, he deftly stepped around a Porter transporting a box. He spun around the man, dragging his feet in the snow, and not spilling a drop as he drank, before continuing on his way.

  Fenrir watched him, silently stalking him from the rooftops. A light snow had begun to fall, yet the air remained still, allowing the flakes to gently fall. The rooftops of the red light district were tight and hung over the street, giving the snow only a few feet to fall to the street far below.

  The overhanging ceilings worked to keep much of the heat and light in the streets, but also worked to keep much of the stench and filth contained, as well.

  Quinn continued to wander the streets, embracing the flirtatious remarks and gestures of the women as he passed. Yet he accepted none of their propositions. Eventually, he sat down in a covered narrow alleyway, took yet another swig of his jug, and passed out on a pile of filthy discarded rags.

  Fenrir dropped from the rooftops, slamming into the cobblestone without a sound. His black cloak blew away much of the lightly fallen snow, creating a small flurry. With a face devoid of emotion, Fenrir drew back his greatsword, ready to thrust forward and sever the man’s head from his body. Yet he didn’t.

  Instead, Fenrir vanished from the alley, leaving behind a man loudly snoring in the filth and snow, unaware of just how narrowly he had escaped death.

  * * * * *

  Beautiful rays of golden sunlight bathed the frozen world in comforting warmth, but they also stabbed daggers in the eyes of a sleeping drunkard.

  “Aaarghh!” Quinn cried out, rolling over in his sleep.

  The movement caused the rags he was using as a pillow to shift and collapse. Groaning and cursing, Quinn sat up with blurry eyes.

  “Would you like some help?”

  Quinn rubbed his eyes and saw a large man in dark armor standing above him, offering his hand with a slight smirk.

  “I don’t need your help!” Quinn growled. He did not want anyone’s pity. His lousy attempt to bat away the man’s hand while standing up caused him to slip on some ice and fall back down.

  “Never asked if you needed help. I asked if you wanted help.” The man said, offering his hand once more.

  Quinn took it with hesitation, expecting some sort of trick, but the man simply helped him up.

  The man stepped back to allow Quinn to brush himself off.

  “Come, let me buy you breakfast.”

  Quinn huffed, “I don’t take charity.”

  “Who said anything about charity? I’m buying you breakfast, and in return, you can show me around the city. Its my first time in such a large city and I’m actually kind of lost.”

  Quinn glanced at the large weapon on the man’s back, “An Adventurer?”

  The man smiled, “Yep! I always wanted to come to the Capital and figured now was a good a time as any.”

  Quinn chuckled, “You picked a bad time my friend.”

  The man sheepishly rubbed the back of his head, “Yeah, I noticed. But it doesn’t have anything to do with me, and I’m already here. I figured I would sightsee while there are less people to compete with, then leave once my funds got low enough to take a few jobs. Now come on, I’m hungry, so I figure after your party last night, you are starving.”

  At the mention of food, Quinn’s stomach betrayed him by grumbling loudly.

  Quinn awkwardly patted his large stomach, “Well, I guess I could show you around in exchange for breakfast.”

  “Let’s get to it! You can show me around while we find a good place to eat. This place is kind of dead anyway.” The large man walked out of the alley and gestured around to the deserted street.

  Quinn followed him out, protecting his eyes from the direct sunlight, “Ugghh. Yeah well, this is the Red-Light District. It only ever gets busy at night.”

  “The Red-Light District? So you had some fun huh?” The man joked, lightly patting Quinn on the back.

  The light pat from the large man sent the comparatively small man forward a step.

  “Not really, just some booze.”

  “No ladies for you?”

  “Just one,” Quinn sighed, “Not that she wants anything to do with me.” Quinn muttered the last part, but the man heard it perfectly.

  “Well, I’m sure you’ll feel better with some warm food in your belly! Let’s go find a place!” The man loudly exclaimed, causing Quinn to wince in pain as he followed him down the street.

  “What is your name anyway?” Quinn asked

  “Me? Oh, you can call me Fenrir!”

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