As the group exited the temple, the oppressive energy seemed to lift, though Fenrir couldn't shake the feeling that Madam Vadal was watching.
"So," Rui said, glancing at Maric. "What do we do with him now?"
Fenrir's smirk didn't falter. "Simple. We use him. Just like they tried to."
Maric's expression darkened slightly, but there was no protest. Fenrir knew that this new alliance was just the beginning. With Maric by their side, the game had shifted—and the stakes had never been higher.
Rui hesitated as the group walked toward the village gates, glancing at Maric, who trailed beside Fenrir's wheelchair. The silver-haired boy looked calm, his gaze distant as though lost in thoughts of another time. Rui's brow furrowed. Despite his youthful appearance, there was an unsettling weight to him—a contradiction between the fragile body of a child and the power he carried within.