Tyrant's return: Reborn as a Good-For-Nothing Young Master
Chapter 85: Ch 85: Starting New School- Part 1

Chapter 85: Ch 85: Starting New School- Part 1

High on his progress and still feeling the faint afterglow of victory from the S-class dungeon, Fenrir made his way back home.

His clothes were torn and singed in places, and the Mystica Herba was safely tucked into a reinforced flask in his bag.

The road ahead of him was clear—for now. With the herb in his possession, he was one major step closer to recreating the potion that had once propelled him to the top of the tower.

But as he turned the corner into his quiet street, Fenrir slowed. Someone was standing near his front door.

He squinted. A familiar figure—tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in casual combat gear and looking very out of place in this part of the city.

Fenrir’s expression shifted, and without hesitation, he drew the shortblade at his side.

"Rick. You’ve got three seconds to explain why you’re standing outside my house like some second-rate stalker."

He called, his voice low and wary.

Rick sighed, lifting both hands in mock surrender.

"Relax, would you? I’m not here to drag you off to some mission or deliver more of Fredric’s orders. I came to talk."

Fenrir didn’t lower his blade.

"Then talk fast."

Rick scratched the back of his head, clearly a little uncomfortable.

"Your brother sent me. He wants you to join a school. Starting tomorrow."

Fenrir blinked.

"A school? You came all the way here to tell me that?"

He repeated flatly, lowering his weapon but not putting it away.

Rick shrugged.

"I tried texting, but I figured you’d ignore it. Besides, Fredric was pretty insistent."

"Tell him no. I’ve got better things to do than sit in a classroom with a bunch of children. I need time to finish the potion. And more time to forge."

Fenrir said bluntly.

"I get that. I really do. But this isn’t optional. Fredric has already pulled strings to get you in. He wants you to have... I don’t know, a ’normal’ experience or something. Even if it’s just for a while.""

Rick said, sighing again.

Fenrir’s brows furrowed. He could already feel the headache building.

"Why do I get the feeling this school is going to be more trouble than it’s worth?"

Rick chuckled.

"Because it probably is. But Fredric said, and I quote, ’He doesn’t get to live in isolation forever.’"

Fenrir ran a hand through his hair and sighed deeply.

"Fine. I’ll go. But I’m not staying long. The moment there’s even a whisper of the tower emerging, I’m done. I’ll be the first one inside."

Rick grinned.

"Deal. I’ll support you however I can."

Fenrir gave him a nod and unlocked his door, his energy finally spent.

"I’m going to sleep. Don’t be here when I wake up."

"Noted."

Rick said, already walking away.

The next morning, Fenrir stood in front of the school Fredric had chosen for him, looking every bit like he didn’t belong.

The building was sleek and modern, with large reinforced glass windows, a high-tech security system humming quietly around the perimeter, and a small army of uniformed students walking in perfectly straight lines.

Everyone wore the same dark navy blazer, neatly polished shoes, and no one—absolutely no one—was talking.

Fenrir clicked his tongue.

"This place reeks of regulation and wasted time."

He muttered under his breath.

As he stepped through the main gates, a red scan light swept over him from head to toe.

He could feel the internal systems of the building analyzing everything from his mana levels to the contents of his backpack.

A robotic voice chirped in his ear.

"Unregistered mana signature. Temporary access granted. Proceed to Classroom 2-A."

"Great. They even talk in monotone."

He said.

Fenrir walked through the pristine hallways, past students who barely glanced at him.

It wasn’t that they didn’t notice him—it was more like they were trained not to acknowledge anything outside the system’s norms.

That only made him feel more out of place.

He found Classroom 2-A and stepped inside. The students were already seated, backs straight, eyes forward. The room itself was clean, with rows of desks and a digital board at the front.

Fenrir walked to the empty desk at the back of the room and sat down, ignoring the glances from a few curious students.

He could feel the room’s internal scanners locking onto him again. His name appeared on the student board in a flash:

[Fenrir Black – Provisional Enrollment]

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

"Yep. Definitely a headache."

He muttered.

The teacher, a middle-aged man with stern eyes and sharp mana control, entered shortly after and began taking attendance without acknowledging Fenrir.

It was as if his existence here was to be silently accepted and immediately forgotten.

Fenrir didn’t mind. In fact, he preferred it that way.

But still, he knew something was off.

The atmosphere in the school wasn’t just strict—it was tense. And the students, quiet as they were, had a strange air about them.

As if they weren’t just ordinary students but trained operatives or tools waiting to be activated.

He narrowed his eyes and stared at the glowing screen in front of him. Maybe Fredric had more than just "normal socializing" in mind.

Either way, Fenrir would play along—for now. But he wasn’t here to learn. He was here to bide time, recover his strength, and wait for the tower.

The moment it appeared, this school, these people, and even Fredric’s plans would be behind him.

And he’d climb again—this time, on his own terms.

Fenrir could feel the weight of dozens of eyes on him as soon as he stepped through the door.

The quiet hum of classroom chatter died instantly, replaced by a tense silence. His presence, as expected, stirred curiosity and unease—but not a single student dared to speak a word.

Some students gave him sideways glances, others looked at him openly.

A few whispered among themselves, trying not to get caught by the ever-watchful classroom surveillance.

Fenrir ignored them all.

He didn’t care about their whispers or their opinions. None of them mattered to him.

The teacher, a thin man with sharp features and even sharper eyes, paused mid-lecture and gestured at Fenrir.

"You must be Fenrir Black. Take your seat—we’ve already been informed of your arrival."

Fenrir didn’t reply. He made his way to the empty desk at the back, each step echoing lightly in the silent classroom.

The teacher continued.

"Most of your classmates are already aware of who you are, so we’ll skip introductions. And since you’re here, I assume you’re also familiar with theirs."

Fenrir didn’t even blink.

’Nope. Not a clue who any of you are.’

But he said nothing, only gave a small nod to make the conversation end faster.

As he sat down, the gazes finally started to shift back toward the front of the classroom. He could still feel a few lingering stares, but no one dared to approach.

That was fine with him. He didn’t come here to make friends or learn people’s names.

This is temporary, he reminded himself, settling into the seat.

’The moment the tower appears, I’m gone.’

Until then, he’d play the role of a student. Quiet, distant, and watching. Always watching.