With Miss Fuwa openly on Fenrir's side, Dain gave up trying to fight the blatant favoritism.
He slumped into one of the old chairs, arms crossed and brows drawn together in a sour expression.
The look he gave Fenrir wasn't angry—more like resigned.
Fenrir didn't pay him any mind. He'd already gotten what he wanted.
There was no reason to waste time on Dain's frustration when the dungeon permit was practically his now.
The classroom door creaked open as the rest of the Dungeon Exploration Club trickled in—talking, laughing, some still in their uniforms, others wearing training gear.
Fenrir glanced at each face but quickly lost interest. None of them were important to him… except one.
A tall student with steel-gray hair and a calm expression walked in last.
He wasn't loud like the others, but when he stepped into the room, everyone subtly adjusted their posture or quieted down. Fenrir watched him with faint curiosity.
"That's Aiden Smith. Club leader. Rumors say he's already a B-ranker already."
Dain whispered, noticing Fenrir's look.
Fenrir nodded to himself and memorized the face. He didn't need to remember everyone—just the key pieces.
Once everyone had taken their seats, Aiden cleared his throat, standing at the front with a clipboard in hand. His tone was calm and commanding.
"Alright, settle down. As some of you know, we've got a new member today. Fenrir, right? Welcome to the Dungeon Exploration Club."
His eyes scanned the room before landing on Fenrir.
There was a brief smattering of applause, more polite than enthusiastic. Aiden went on.
"To mark the occasion, we'll be heading out for a field expedition this weekend. As usual, the dungeon would be—"
"We're going to Moon's Cavern."
Miss Fuwa interrupted from her desk, still sipping from a new can of beer like it was water.
A silence fell over the room, and all eyes turned to her.
Aiden blinked.
"With all due respect, Miss Fuwa, we haven't assessed the group composition yet—"
"We're going to Moon's Cavern. That's what I decided. Got a problem with that?"
She repeated, a little more firmly this time, though her voice still slurred slightly.
Aiden's jaw clenched. Fenrir could see the student leader weighing his options. He was clearly not pleased, but he wasn't stupid either. After a tense moment, Aiden sighed.
"...Understood. Sorry about this. Usually, we vote or pick dungeons that match the whole group's level. This is… unusual."
He turned to Fenrir and offered an apologetic bow of the head.
Fenrir shrugged like it didn't matter to him. Which, in truth, it didn't. He'd already gotten the dungeon access he needed.
From her desk, Miss Fuwa gave Fenrir a small, lazy nod—half smug, half conspiratorial. He didn't smile back, but he made a mental note: she was now an ally. A messy, unstable one, but still someone useful.
With the dungeon location settled, the club began finalizing details. The expedition would be this weekend—five days from now.
"Gear check on Friday. Be ready. And if anyone's got a problem with the dungeon pick, take it up with our teacher. Good luck with that."
Aiden announced.
Once the meeting wrapped up, the students slowly filed out. Fenrir waited until the room was mostly empty before slipping away without a word. He had no reason to linger.
As Fenrir made his way downtown, his thoughts were already shifting toward preparation. Five days.
That was enough time to gather the other ingredients he needed for the new potion recipe he'd pieced together last night. Everything was in motion.
But when he reached the alleyway that led to his lab, he stopped in his tracks.
The area looked… different.
Before, the entire block had been near-abandoned.
Derelict buildings, cracked pavement, flickering streetlamps—it had been the perfect place to stay unnoticed.
Now?
Fenrir's eyes narrowed as he took in the scene.
A food cart had parked at the corner of the alley, complete with a blinking sign and a line of students in tracksuits.
Further down, someone had set up a tent selling combat gear. Two buildings over, construction scaffolding had gone up, and workers were shouting about "reopening the space as a Hunter Supply Co-op."
"What the hell…"
Fenrir muttered.
The alleyway that had once been silent and forgotten now buzzed with life. He spotted a couple of people peeking toward his storage building, whispering behind their hands.
It wasn't just some development project.
Fenrir pulled his hood lower over his eyes and approached a group of three men gathered around a portable noodle stand.
They were mid-conversation, sipping soup from disposable bowls, when Fenrir stopped near them and asked casually.
"Hey, do you know what's going on around here? Why are so many shops popping up all of a sudden?"
One of the men glanced at him, then frowned slightly.
"You from around here, kid?"
Fenrir gave a vague shrug.
"Sort of. I just haven't been around much lately."
The three exchanged glances.
For a moment, it looked like they were about to ignore him, but then one of them—an older man with a graying beard and a thick apron—chuckled and said.
"Well, that explains it. You've been missing all the excitement."
"Excitement?"
Fenrir asked.
"Yeah. This whole sector's been on edge. Word is, some kind of powerful 'lab boss' set up shop here—someone real nasty. Not affiliated with any known gang or faction, but brutal enough that the local gangs decided not to test him again after one failed attempt."
The man leaned in slightly, lowering his voice like he was sharing some forbidden secret.
Fenrir kept his face blank, but his mind clicked into place instantly.
Lab boss? Really?
"They say that he wiped out an entire scout group in seconds. Didn't kill them, but left them in a state. Like they didn't even see him coming."
Another man added, slurping his noodles,
"Isn't it just a rumor?"
Fenrir asked, tone careful.
"Oh, maybe. But it's enough to make people nervous. Gangs don't want to tangle with someone they can't size up. So now they're pulling out. And where gangs leave, shops come in. Everyone wants to claim a stake before this becomes the next neutral zone."
The first man said with a shrug.
"It's already becoming one. Look around. You think that food cart would've survived a day here last month?"
The third man muttered, glancing over his shoulder.
Fenrir didn't respond. He thanked them and walked away quietly, keeping his pace steady even though his thoughts were racing.
So that's what this was.
His scaring off those grunts had turned into a full-blown myth about a mysterious "lab boss."
He'd simply defended his lab—out of irritation more than anything—but now people were moving in, hoping to profit off the tension that he had accidentally created.
Fenrir stopped just outside his lab's entrance and looked around at the bustling alleyway, the lights, the shops, the whispers.
He hadn't intended to make this place into a neutral zone. He hadn't meant to make a name for himself.
But it was already happening—slowly, steadily, and without his input.
He sighed and opened the lab door.
For now, silence would serve him better than truth.
'Tsk. News travels a little too fast these days.'