The rush of wind from his teleport faded as Mordax reappeared in a dim, narrow alleyway somewhere in Paris. Neon signs flickered just beyond the mouth of the alley, the night alive with the quiet hum of the city.
His bare chest rose and fell slowly.
He looked down—just pants. Nothing else. He grimaced.
"Can't walk around like this… not anymore."
Stepping out into the open, he scanned the nearby shops. His gaze landed on a high-end boutique suit store, all black windows and glowing letters.
He walked in calmly, despite the stares from the receptionist and security.
"Premade," he said flatly. "Black. Jacket. Trousers. Fast."
The attendant, clearly nervous, fetched the items without question. Once they were in his hands, Mordax turned and vanished—teleporting straight out before they could ask for payment.
He appeared in a different alley this time—cleaner, closer to a busier part of the city. A few blocks down, he found a basic clothing store and slipped inside. His eyes locked on a black turtleneck, simple and sharp. Perfect.
Inside the changing room, he dressed himself fully for the first time in seventeen years.
Black turtleneck. Tailored suit jacket. Slim trousers. Bare feet now replaced by a pair of boots "borrowed" from the changing room shelf.
When he looked in the mirror, he barely recognized himself.
"I look like someone new…"
He didn't teleport this time. He walked. Step by step, across sidewalks lit by café signs and old Parisian lamps. The night was cool, the streets alive with quiet music and murmured conversations.
For a brief moment, he felt... normal.
As he crossed a metro entrance, he caught sight of an old man struggling to carry two massive suitcases up a steep stairwell. His thin arms trembled under the weight. Dozens of people passed him without a glance.
Mordax paused.
He walked over, silently lifted the suitcases with ease, and carried them to the top.
The old man looked up in surprise. "Merci, jeune homme… What's your name?"
Mordax hesitated. He hadn't thought about that in a long time.
"…Mordax," he said finally.
Then, after a pause, "Mordax Lupine."
The old man smiled. "Ah… Lupine. Strong name."
He reached out a hand. "My name is Fu. Most people just call me Master Fu."
They shook hands.
And in that small gesture—a handshake under Parisian moonlight—a new chapter quietly began.