"Sir? You still there?" the voice on the call asked.
"Oh—sorry, sorry," Raze replied, snapping back. "Are you the owner I'm speaking to?"
On the tablet before him, Mack had already pulled up the workshop's registration. The name Fenric was clearly listed under "Owner."
"No, sir," came the reply through the phone. "The owner's Fenric. You know him?"
Raze's eyes narrowed slightly. "Yeah… I know him. Is he there right now?"
"Well, yeah. He's here."
"Good," Raze said quietly, voice low and sharp. "I'll be sending my car right away."
He ended the call.
Then—without another word—he stood. "Get the cars ready," he ordered. "We're going."
Within minutes, two black cars and one SUV rolled out, engines humming as they cut through the streets toward the workshop.
Inside the workshop, one of Fenric's workers looked up from under a car hood. "Hey, boss. Got a weird call earlier—some guy said he's sending his car over. Sounded… formal, I guess?"
Fenric raised an eyebrow but shrugged it off. "Probably another late-night client. Let's keep it ready."
Moments later, the sound of engines filled the street outside. Three vehicles came to a stop in front of the shop.
The doors opened. Men in suits stepped out, followed by Raze. The entire workshop seemed to tighten—the air growing heavy, the workers' chatter dying instantly.
Fenric, sitting near the counter, noticed the sudden hush and looked up. The man leading them walked in slowly, sunglasses catching the fluorescent light.
As Raze scanned the room, his gaze locked on Fenric—and in that instant, he felt it.
A faint pressure. A killing intent, quiet but unmistakable.
He removed his sunglasses.
Their eyes met.
Fenric stood, unfazed, and approached him calmly. "How may I help you?"
"Help?" Raze echoed, a slight smile tugging at his lips. "Can you really help me… Fenric?"
..
..
"…or should I say—The Swiftfang?"
The moment that name hit the air, Fenric's entire expression shifted. His posture straightened, eyes hardening like tempered steel.
..
"Who?" he asked, voice flat.
Viktor chuckled under his breath. "I can see it in your eyes and eyes never lie."
A tense beat passed before Fenric turned slightly toward the workshop's inner room. "Come inside," he said quietly.
Then, glancing at the others behind Viktor—"But leave your little crowd outside."
Viktor smirked.
He nodded to his men. Only Raze followed as the rest stayed back, keeping guard outside while the three of them disappeared into the dim workshop interior.
The workshop was dim, lit only by flickering fluorescent tubes that buzzed like dying insects.
The scent of oil, steel, and burnt rubber hung heavy.
Fenric didn't greet them. He simply sat — one leg crossed over the other — flicked his lighter, and drew the first drag of his cigarette.
The orange ember painted the side of his face in the dark.
He exhaled. Smoke wove through the air like ghosts.
"What do you want from me?" he asked quietly.
Raze leaned forward. "Fenric… the Swiftfang—"
"I'm not that anymore."
His voice sliced the air. The tone wasn't loud, but it carried the weight of someone who used to be feared.
"Just Fenric," he said, eyes low, shadowed. "A mechanic. That's all."
Viktor's lips curled into a thin smile. "Then tell me, 'Fenric,' would you work with us?"
Fenric's chuckle was low, broken by smoke. Then his eyes turned sharp — knife-sharp.
"Work with you? You think I'd kneel under Marco ?"
He leaned forward, gaze burning. "Guessing you don't even know who the hell I am, huh?"
Raze's fingers twitched. "How do you know Marco?"
Fenric smirked. "How?"
He flicked ash, eyes gleaming through the haze.
"You really think I'm some small-time junkyard dog?" Fenric said, voice calm but cutting.
"Even you the so-called boss once served Kaizen — long before Marco slithered his way up the chain.
And now you, Viktor…" — he leaned forward, smoke curling between them — "you've been pressured to kneel under Marco, haven't you?"
Viktor's eyes widened — his composure cracked.
"What… did you say?" His voice trembled between disbelief and fear.
"How do you know about Master Kaizen? How the hell do you know all this?"
Fenric stared at him — unblinking, predatory.
"There's only one man who ever knew my whole story."
He smiled faintly. "And I know he's the one who told you."
Viktor's jaw tightened. "You didn't answer my question."
Fenric grinned wider, leaning in until the glow of his cigarette brushed Viktor's reflection off his glasses.
"When you called me," he said, "I traced your number. Step by step. Your men are sloppy. Children, really."
Viktor turned to Raze. Raze said nothing, just looked down — ashamed.
"Oh, and by the way," Fenric added lazily. "You forced me to cut my lines. Database warned me someone was asking about me and Kael. He never gives names — but I gave him permission this time. Thought I'd see who had the guts."
Raze's breath hitched — memory flashing.
Database said he was 'thinking about your name'... but he knew. He knew from the start. He was playing us.
Viktor let out a cold, tense laugh. "So you trapped us, huh?"
"Trapped?" Fenric tilted his head. "You came walking into the cage yourselves."
He stubbed the cigarette into a metal tray. The ember hissed.
"And you forgot something important."
"…What's that?"
"This," Fenric said, voice dropping into something deeper.
"This is my domain."
Raze's lips curled into a smirk. "Heh. Don't think you can handle us, man."
He drew his gun — smooth, practiced —
—but before the muzzle even leveled, there was a blur.
A snap.
A heartbeat of silence.
Raze froze mid-motion.
Fenric's hand gripped the gun's barrel — firm. The hammer jammed, unable to move.
The cigarette butt fell, rolling to Raze's shoe.
Then Raze looked up.
And saw it.
Those eyes.
Predatory, bloodthirsty, inhumanly calm — eyes that had seen too much death to care anymore.
The air itself seemed to recoil from Fenric's presence.
So fast... I didn't even see him move…
Viktor didn't move either. His heart hammered, but his instincts screamed one truth.
This man isn't lying. He's the Swiftfang.
Fenric slowly released the barrel.
He leaned back, brushing a bit of ash off his sleeve.
"I told you," he said coldly, "I'm not in the mood for a fight. Don't make me turn this place red."
Silence. Only the faint hum of machinery, and the pounding of two hearts trying to steady themselves.
Viktor exhaled shakily.
"…So. It really is you."
Fenric didn't respond. He just looked at them, eyes dull, tired — but deadly.
Viktor swallowed. His voice came out low, serious now.
"All right. Let's talk business. But we're finishing this fast."
Fenric smiled slightly — not kindly, but like a wolf that just decided not to bite.
"Then stop wasting my cigarettes," he said.
Viktor leaned forward, his tone low but steady.
"I just want to know what happened… four years ago."
Fenric exhaled smoke, watching it twist upward.
"If I told you," he said slowly, "you wouldn't look at Marco the same way again."
Viktor frowned. "Huh? What's that supposed to mean?"
"You wanted to ask about Kael, right?" Fenric said. "Simple—he died. And no one can bring back a dead man."
"But how?" Viktor pressed. "He was your closest friend, wasn't he?"
Fenric stared at his cigarette for a moment, the ember glowing faintly.
"Still is," he muttered, voice quieter now—almost lost in the hum of the workshop.
Viktor's expression softened. "I'm not here to dig up graves. I just want to know the truth—the real story behind that incident."
Fenric's eyes lifted, calm but cold.
"Truth?" He scoffed lightly. "Nobody could've killed him easily. Kael was… something else. Someone I could call a rival. But in the end…" His voice darkened. "It's always the traitors."
Silence filled the air. Even the ticking of a loose wrench seemed loud.
Viktor stayed silent, waiting.
Finally, Fenric spoke again. "Marco killed Kaeler." His tone was calm—but the words hit like a blade drawn in silence.
He leaned forward, the faint light catching his eyes.
Fenric nodded once. "Simple reason. Marco feared him. He knew, sooner or later, Kael would come for him. So he struck first. Even I don't know everything… but back then, there were whispers—Kael had learned something. Something that could've ended Marco for good ."
For a moment, nothing moved. The air itself felt heavier.
Viktor sat back, the weight of that truth sinking in. "So that's why… they were laughing."
Viktor's thoughts stirred, his mind tracing every word.
When Marco took control of the system… everything rotted. The principles, the honor—gone. People who once stood for something either died or turned rotten.
Viktor looked up again. "How you knew Kaizen?"
Adding in:
"He was once an honorable man," he said quietly. "But even he got swallowed by Marco's greed and decay. Couldn't bear what the world became. He's gone for good now…" He leaned back, letting out a tired sigh.
"All he left me… was this position."
Fenric's eyes lowered, shadows dancing over his face. The silence between them stretched thin — until he finally spoke.
"…Guess Uncle shouldn't have had to see this kind of world," he murmured.
Viktor blinked, startled. "…Uncle?"
"Yeah," Fenric said softly, his gaze distant. "Kaizen was my uncle. And I'm the one left from that family."
The air went still. For a second, the world felt like it stopped breathing.
Viktor just stared — his mind trying to catch up, his chest tightening with every second.
His throat felt dry, words refused to come out. And then… the weight of it all hit.
He looked away, eyes glistening under the dim light.
A tremor passed through his hands as the truth sank deeper — heavier.
The sound of a quiet sniffle broke the silence.
Fenric didn't move, didn't say a word.
He just stood there — letting Viktor's tears fall, unspoken and unseen,
as the last ember of the cigarette died between them.