Fenrir remembered death—his own death. It was on that day...

Braham, the lunatic who was exiled after the tragedy of killing his kin, joined forces with humans to invade the city. Fenrir couldn’t handle the man who did all sorts of despicable tricks, such as assassinating Hachika with a separate party (?) sent earlier. Above all, the power of the Blood King Candidate Grid was outstanding.

‘...Yes, I am definitely dead.’

There was a reason why it wasn’t the past tense. He could feel that his heart wasn’t beating. He had to tune the flow of blood purely with magic. Currently, Fenrir relied on the ‘soul that doesn’t perish’ to awaken the form of his body and consciousness. If he had to compare it, he was close to a lich who looked alive.

The reason for his soul’s failure to perish was simple—it was an innate blessing. The souls of those who directly inherited the blood of their mother, who was one of the Three Evils of the Beginning, were solid. Even if they died, they could maintain their souls until they met the conditions for resurrection.

Like now.

“Wait… now that I see you, this newbie guy, you...