All Chapters of Fated to The Last Fenrir: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

But she was clearly 20 years old, regardless of the legal age here. In her mind, Gwyneth Windsor was already an adult. She could work, feed herself, and look after herself. Back on Earth, she had been an orphan who managed to survive just fine despite her abnormality. It had been a long time since she stopped craving for a family—one that could understand her without treating her like something strange. She had tried twice, and both adoptions ended in failure. Each time she was taken in and returned, the rejection cut deeper than she ever admitted. The two Giants clearly meant to adopt her, but what if they found out something was wrong with her? They would throw her away again. Then what? How was she supposed to survive here, in a world where everything was tied to points and ID cards came in the form of personal Data-lockets? These small devices held everything: identity, school records, job qualifications, even access to housing. As a minor, the locket had to be bound to a guardi

The insult cut through the room like a blade. General Arthur, who was on the receiving end, stood up harshly."Bold," he snarled, nostrils flaring. "Young ones nowadays truly lack proper education. It seems I need to teach you a lesson in place of your parents."Albert Drakin’s careless grin didn’t falter, but the air around him dropped several degrees. His aura sharpened into something lethal, locking onto the General with the cold precision of a drawn bow.“Heh. I’ll take you up on that offer. Arena?”General Arthur visibly stiffened. His own presence recoiled, as if remembering exactly how unhinged the man before him was—the same lunatic who had dared spar with the Emperor and walked away laughing. Albert was the only one insane enough to challenge a Fenrir for fun.“Tsk. I respect your father and His Majesty, so I’ll let this pass,” Arthur muttered, retreating gracelessly into his seat to salvage what pride he could.Anticipation hummed and then died across the council. Several of

The past few days had been a blur of pure joy. Ever since the child—their daughter, accepted them and agreed to the adoption, Aslan felt a euphoria so potent it was nearly dizzying. A permanent, faint smile played on his lips. He took a deep, deliberate breath, savoring the memory of the past few days—especially the sight of Lev, the love of his life, walking with a renewed spring in his step and a focused purpose, as if, at long last, their life was truly complete.Seeing Lev like that was a deep, satisfying exhale for Aslan’s entire being. The unseen pressure he’d carried for so long had instantly dissipated, replaced by a quiet, unbidden peace that settled in his chest.But then the memory of his cub being claimed by some unknown entity—right under his nose, crashed through that peace. The muscles in his neck and shoulders tightened, hardening with sudden tension. He took several long, measured breaths, forcing the surge of protective fury back down. He needed to steady himself, kn

Lev was instantly charmed by the sound. Though he had felt the child slowly warming up to them, the little cub rarely spoke. He could count the number of times she had addressed them, and each instance was laced with timidity. But now, his daughter spoke with firm refusal—her strong voice a clear sign that she had fully accepted their presence.Hearing her voice so confidently today pleased him immensely. A light chuckle escaped him and echoed softly in the room."Yes, yes, it’s Daddy’s fault," he conceded, his voice full of warmth and pampering."I shouldn't disturb my baby’s playtime. Daddy is just right here if you need help with this bear." Mentally, he made a note to buy many more of these huge plush toys, since his daughter clearly enjoyed them.Gwyneth’s head snapped up, her obsidian eyes fixed on Lev’s face. His expression showed nothing but affection—no hint of offense at her earlier sharp tone. Her stiff muscles slowly relaxed, and a small, tentative smile touched her lips.

Ever since Alaric had made it clear that no one was to show their wings around him, Albert—who cherished his iridescent wings as much as his sculpted physique—kept them perfectly hidden. His loyalty ran deep; once, he had even snapped the wings of a subordinate for spreading a baseless rumor about Alaric’s supposed inability to display his own.That same fierce, unwavering loyalty fueled his current stubbornness.For Alaric, the distaste for his wings wasn’t rooted in trauma; he simply hated their color. Every other member of his family and the Fenrir court boasted pure, blinding white wings. His, however, were an unforgiving pitch black. Being the sole living Fenrir was already an isolated existence, and the dark wings served as a constant, unwelcome reminder of his difference.But now, something had shifted. He found the color black… not quite so displeasing.Not after setting eyes on the cub.Her hair was a curtain of starless, infinite night—thick, rich, absorbing light itself. Th