The police soon launched a full-scale rescue operation.
Fenric and the others, as victims, weren’t treated harshly. Most questions focused on the details of the crash itself. As for how they had escaped, the officers tactfully avoided pressing for answers.
After all, to ordinary people, these survivors were fragile after such a traumatic ordeal. Digging into those details might only deepen their psychological shadow.
Soon after, the black box from the bus was recovered, recording the incident from the driver’s perspective in vivid detail.
The truth spread quickly—the culprit was the infamous aunt.
(The footage only showed the driver’s area, so the rest remained unseen.)
When the video hit the internet, public outrage exploded. Comments flooded in like a tidal wave:
"Serves her right!"
"Honestly, I feel relieved knowing she didn’t make it up."
"Too bad other innocent people got dragged in."
"Wonder how her kids feel reading these comments?"
"Enough, the dead should be respected... though, yeah, she screwed up big time."
After a full check-up at the hospital confirming no major injuries, everyone dispersed.
Their clothes were still soaked through, so going home to change was the first priority.
At school, news of the incident spread fast—and the administration promptly gave them a day off.
When Fenric slipped back home, Father Eric was still fast asleep.
Moving quietly, he grabbed fresh clothes, shut himself in the bathroom, and scrubbed down.
But when he dressed...
These are too small now.
With his new physique, his old wardrobe was hopeless.
Sighing, Fenric crept out, headed to the mall, and bought an entire set of outfits without blinking.
With over ten million sitting in his account, he didn’t bother checking price tags.
And thanks to his sculpted figure, he even got a bold request for his contact info from a sales assistant.
Outwardly calm, Fenric declined politely. Inwardly? He was smug as hell.
Not wanting to disturb his father, he killed time outside.
It’s true what they say—people rely on clothes, horses on saddles.
Dressed in his new gear, Fenric looked sharper than any runway model—except models didn’t have his lethal aura.
On the street, heads turned. More than once.
He spent the entire day just like that.
At midnight, Fenric appeared in the Samsara Space as usual.
Truthfully, there was nothing pressing to do—no dungeon runs available yet. Coming here was just a habit.
"You have a new message. Your friend ’Arke’ is inviting you to a video call."
The notification blinked.
Fenric’s lips curved. Arke, huh?
He accepted.
"Yo, Little Arke. What’s up?" His tone was casual, teasing.
Arke blinked on screen. "Nothing much, Shura. I just wanted to say... thank you."
Fenric almost laughed aloud. This girl wants to bait me with gratitude? Amateur move.
"Thank me? No need. We settled our deal. Neither of us owes the other."
He tilted his head, mildly puzzled. Could she really think Jitto’s nonsense about me being Shura was true?
"Oh." Arke fell silent for a moment, then asked softly, "Shura... when’s your next dungeon run?"
"Five days. Why? Want me to carry you?"
"Will you... wait for me to join?"
"Of course not."
"..."
Arke exhaled sharply. "Fine. Just—be careful. I heard some people plan to deal with you in the next dungeon."
Fenric’s eyes gleamed coldly. A grin tugged at his lips.
"Good. I was starting to get bored."
He wasn’t bragging—among all second-tier Samsaras, not a single one could match him.
With his current stats, he stood firmly among the top ten across the Samsara Tower.
"Thanks for the warning, Little Arke."
"Can you not add ’Little’ when you say my name?"
"Sure, Little Arke."
"Forget it," she huffed. "Don’t forget tomorrow—you promised to call me for that dinner!"
Ah, here we go again.
Fenric chuckled inwardly. Isla tried this trick too. Too green, girls... too green.
"Dinner? You want me to invite you? Fine, I’m in XX City. Come over—I’ll treat you. And after dinner... we can do other things. Have a nice, in-depth exchange."
"Goodbye!!"
The feed cut abruptly.
Fenric laughed under his breath. That’s it? Too easy.
"System—send me to my personal world."
After conquering this dungeon, it became his own domain—accessible anytime, off-limits to others.
[Notice: Samsara Player ’Shura’ is advised not to remain in the personal world for more than 24 hours. After 24 hours, time will sync with reality.]
Fenric materialized atop the Great Wall, startling nearby guards.
When they recognized him, relief washed over their faces.
"Sir Fenric! It’s Sir Fenric!"
"Sir Fenric is back!"
"Hello, Sir Fenric!"
They saluted as if greeting a living legend.
"No need for formality. Where’s the General?"
"In the council hall!" a soldier replied briskly.
Fenric nodded—but didn’t move. He hadn’t come to see General Shaw.
Instead, recalling the system’s warning, he asked, "How long was I gone?"
"Since yesterday morning. Almost a full day."
Fenric stilled. One day here = one day outside?
After a moment’s calculation, he relaxed.
So as long as I stay under 24 hours here, only an hour passes in reality. Perfect.
"Where’s Commander Lin Mei?"
At that, the soldier’s eyes lit with a knowing smile. "Also in the council hall, sir!"