Chapter 182: The Cult Of Fenrir Gathers For A Special Occasion

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Vladimir recalled the past while looking up at the night sky in complete silence. He remembered many things, until the final series of events that had completely changed his life forever.

Such as when the opportunity to catch a big fish like Riven first appeared. He had truly believed he finally had it done — that his life would change forever once he captured someone so valuable. But in the end, that plan only brought him death. He thought that was the end of everything. He expected to go to hell and pay for his many sins. In some twisted way, he had even wanted eternal damnation. Yet what awaited him after death was a second chance he never asked for, and one he knew deep down he did not deserve.

After dying he learned that Fenrir, as an Authority, held dominion over his soul. Although the great wolf had originally planned to devour it, he offered the soul to Riven instead, turning Vladimir into a servant for his new "toy." Vladimir no longer knew what he was supposed to do with himself. Once he was allowed to leave, he returned to the cult. Everyone there had believed him dead... and that was where things became strange.

He was forced to invent some pathetic explanation, claiming his team had been wiped out while attempting to kidnap a Claymore. As a result he was demoted. To make matters worse, the other Apostles of Chaos openly laughed and mocked him because he had suddenly grown much weaker. His future inside the cult seemed completely ruined.

As he cursed his own miserable existence and thought that he would have preferred to stay dead, he was eventually called back and forced to return to Riven’s side.

Annoyed, frustrated, and filled with quiet resentment, he lived several days inside that house with people he once detested and had wanted to destroy.

He tried to hate the place, yet so far it felt better than anything he had ever experienced before.

Better than the cult.

Better than the filthy slums.

Better than the cold orphanage where he had grown up...

He was now working under a legitimate guild and receiving actual pay. He was being fed good food every day and even had a solid roof over his head whenever he wanted it.

What was more, he had been given the unique privilege of helping raise the child of Fenrir himself.

Maybe life was no longer so terrible... all because he had died at Riven’s hands and been revived to serve him.

"Ugh, what am I thinking?" he clenched his teeth in sudden anger at his own soft thoughts.

As he groaned quietly, Noir walked back over while carrying the frisbee in his mouth.

"Ah, young master...!" Vladimir said, forcing a calmer tone. "Sure, let’s play a little more..."

However, the crest on his body suddenly began to pulse without warning, making him flinch.

He tapped it once and listened carefully to the urgent message sent by the Cult’s Apostles.

"All members, reunite under the Cult’s headquarters. The Cult Master himself has an important message for everyone."

Vladimir narrowed his eyes and gave a short nod. He quickly looked back at Noir. "I’m sorry, young master. I have to go."

He disappeared in a blink of an eye, leaping silently from rooftop to rooftop without making a single sound. He soon reached the outskirts of the slums and continued toward the wastelands beyond.

There, in the middle of nowhere, stood an abandoned factory that looked completely ordinary from the outside.

He entered the building and walked down a long flight of stairs until he reached a hidden gate. When he touched it, the barrier recognized him and allowed entry.

He continued deeper underground through a series of rough caves while wearing his dark red robes. Along the way he encountered several hundred other cult members moving in the same direction.

Slowly he entered the much wider cavern where large gatherings like this were always held.

At the center of the chamber the three Apostles of Fenrir stood ready to welcome every member.

"Welcome, everyone," intoned the first Apostle, a towering figure whose face was completely hidden behind a jagged iron mask shaped like a snarling wolf’s maw. The mask looked both intimidating and raw.

His voice was deep and resonant, carrying easily through the vast underground cavern without any need for amplification.

Torches of eerie violet flame lined the rough-hewn stone walls, casting long, flickering shadows across the hundreds of kneeling cultists in their matching dark red robes. The entire scene created a dark and almost demonic atmosphere.

The air smelled heavily of damp stone mixed with old blood. Countless sacrifices had been made upon these very stones in the name of Fenrir over the years.

"Tonight, under the gaze of the Great Wolf, we gather not as scattered packs... but as one."

The second Apostle stepped forward next. She was slender and almost ethereal in appearance. Her long silver hair cascaded down her back like liquid moonlight, and her eyes glowed with a faint crimson light. A subtle blood aura radiated from her body — the power of someone who clearly possessed vampire blood within herself. She never revealed her true identity, yet rumors claimed she was a traitor who had abandoned her own kind.

"For too long have the weak ruled this broken world," she said, her tone silky yet sharp, filled with power and authority. "Hunters who sell their strength to the highest bidder. Families who hoard power while the streets drown in despair. The Claymores... the Frostbanes... and many more like them. All of them feed on the carcass of a dying age. But Fenrir’s fangs grow sharper with every passing day. The time of the strong is returning. The world shall be reshaped according to our will."

Vladimir stood among the ranks near the back of the crowd. His own red robes blended perfectly with the others. He kept his head slightly bowed, yet his eyes remained sharp as he carefully analyzed everything around him. He was no longer truly one of them. He was only here as a cover, spying on their movements for his new true master. Still, he continued to pretend and play his part, knowing full well that this was all part of Fenrir’s own wicked and complicated game.

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