A middle‑aged man stepped into Fenric’s path.
He wore flowing ancient robes, hair tied long, saber at his hip—like a swordsman who’d walked out of a fantasy scroll. Pure disguise, of course. In the Samsara Space, anyone who shows their real face is either naïve—or bait.
Gasps rippled through the bar.
"F**k, that’s One Leaf Knows Autumn!"
"Ranked 97th on the Global Master List!"
"He really did come looking for Shura!"
"Why would he want the ’Zombie World War’ strat? He doesn’t need it."
"Idiot—he can buy it for his people!"
Fenric heard enough to confirm it: One Leaf Knows Autumn—Solis Armand’s uncle.
He already knew why the man was here.
Still, he felt no pressure. In non‑dungeon Samsara zones, all violence is forbidden. Attack someone here and the system erases you on the spot.
Fenric answered simply: "Yeah."
One Leaf Knows Autumn didn’t bother circling.
"My nephew, Solis Armand—" his voice was cold iron—"did he die because of you?"
"Hisss!"
The whole bar drew breath through its teeth. So it was about blood!
Every head turned. Every conversation died. No one wanted to miss this.
"He did." Fenric admitted without hesitation.
No excuses. No spin. Head up, straight through.
Defense was pointless anyway. Plenty had seen him take the Black Blade Shusui off Solis’ corpse. The kid got eaten by zombies—but without Fenric’s shot, he might’ve escaped. In the end? Same result.
And Fenric wasn’t cowed. One Leaf Knows Autumn’s level was far above his; they couldn’t even queue into the same dungeon tier. Here in the hub, the man couldn’t lift a finger. At worst, he’d sic proxies on him later.
Let them come. Among peers, Fenric feared no one.
One Leaf Knows Autumn’s eyes darkened. "Good. Direct." Then, colder: "Why did you kill him?"
Fenric raised a brow. "You really don’t know what your nephew’s like?"
"He tried to set me up and steal my mission progress," Fenric said, voice flat. "So I killed him. Problem?"
A low murmur spread. That, at least, made sense. Dungeon runs devolved into hunter‑or‑hunted all the time. If you rolled with sharks, you got bit.
But provoking someone with a background? That stuck. A few looked at Shura with sympathy.
No one in the bar dismissed One Leaf Knows Autumn. Ninety‑seventh in the world might sound low—until you remembered the Samsara population had passed a billion!
Top 100 meant apex predator!
One Leaf Knows Autumn lifted his chin. "Kneel. Apologize. Hand over the ’Zombie World War’ strategy. Cut off a hand. Then we’re done."
Violence was banned here—but self‑harm wasn’t.
Fenric stared—then laughed.
"I thought anyone who made the Top 100 would have a brain," he said. "Didn’t expect you to be stupid. Been reading too many webnovels?"
"!!"
The bar collectively froze.
Then: "Holy—" Someone choked on a drink.
Shura just
Savage didn’t begin to cover it!
Color drained from the veteran’s face. "Very good," he said softly. "No one’s spoken to me like that in a long time."
He raised a hand—and pulled something from his personal warehouse.
A Devil Fruit. Its skin twisted with that unmistakable spiral grain.
He held it high and let his voice carry.
"This is a Paramecia‑type Devil Fruit. I, One Leaf Knows Autumn, hereby post a bounty. Whoever kills Shura in a dungeon world may claim this fruit from me!"
Silence. Then harsh, sucking breaths all over the room.
A Devil Fruit!
Eat it, gain a supernatural ability—skyrocket in power. One step to a new life. Every Samsara in the bar was calculating odds, routes, betrayal windows!
One Leaf Knows Autumn stored the fruit again. That prize had been meant for his nephew—Solis Armand—on his nineteenth birthday.
Never got the chance.
He looked back at Fenric.
"They say you’re the greatest talent the Samsara Space has ever seen," he said. "I hope you don’t die too quickly. I’ll be waiting on the 26th floor of the Samsara Tower."
"Fine," Fenric replied, tone calm as still water. "Just don’t die early. I’ll come take your head."
Hearing this, One Leaf Knows Autumn just smiled coldly as he strode out of the bar.