Fenrir returned to his lab in silence, the doors closing behind him with a faint hiss as the security lock engaged.
The sterile scent of alchemical herbs and metal filled the air, grounding him.
Without wasting time, he headed to his workstation and began prepping a small batch of recovery potions.
His movements were fluid, automatic, born of countless repetitions.
As the solution bubbled gently in the crystal cauldron, he poured the finished doses into vials and carefully placed them into a foam-padded case to be sent to Legion's distribution team.
His mind wandered while he cleaned up.
"I did nothing significant today, and I still feel drained."
He muttered. It was true—between sitting through boring lectures, dealing with pretentious classmates, and avoiding unnecessary attention, the day had felt like a drain on his spirit.
No monsters slain, no dungeons cleared, no mysteries unraveled. Just… school. Ordinary and soul-numbing.
