Fenrir didn't waste time after dealing with Gozu and his servant. Their mana-siphoning scheme had been pitiful, and their downfall inevitable.
With that chapter closed, Fenrir's next destination was the local bank—a towering building of crystal and metal near the heart of the marketplace.
He walked in with a pouch full of valuable artifacts, gold coins, and a few rare gems he had collected from the now-destroyed mansion.
The bank worker, a thin man in his forties with greying hair and hollow eyes, didn't blink twice at the high-value assets Fenrir slid across the counter.
His hands moved with the efficiency of someone who'd seen far stranger transactions.
"We accept these. Exchange rate has been applied. Your account has been credited."
The banker said dully.
Fenrir nodded and didn't ask any further questions.
He didn't care why no red flags had been raised—it could be corruption, indifference, or simple exhaustion.
