6kv Chapter 80: Ch 80: Search for Mystica Herba- Part 2
Chapter 80: Ch 80: Search for Mystica Herba- Part 2
Chapter 80: Ch 80:
He tapped his wrist and brought up his status screen. His stats now hovered at the triple-digit mark across the board—attack, defense, mana pool, and stamina.
Not monstrous by top-tier S-rank standards, but impressive for someone who had only recently climbed from B-class.
More importantly, he had acquired a range of supportive skills: Mana Weave (Passive), Battle Focus (Active), Enduring Flesh (Passive)—each one amplifying his combat readiness and mental precision.
No, this wasn’t his peak. Not even close. In the Tower, he had been terrifying. A tyrant. Here, he was still a shadow of that power.
But for the first time since his return, Fenrir felt progress—real, measurable progress—and it steeled his resolve.
"The time’s right. No more warm-ups."
He muttered to himself.
His eyes shifted to a separate screen, where the map of the S-class dungeon, Swallow’s Nest, glowed in faint red.
A dungeon infamous for the sheer hostility of its environment, twisted mana storms, and apex predators.
But that’s also what made it the perfect hiding place for something as rare and delicate as the Mystica Herba.
But S-class wasn’t A-class. It wasn’t just a step up—it was a leap.
Even with his new gear, potions, and stats, Fenrir knew going alone would be a gamble.
He turned away from his workstation and walked toward a summoning circle etched into the far corner of the lab.
With a snap of his fingers and a pulse of mana, his familiars materialized around him.
"Drink these. We’re going hunting."
He said, tossing them each a flask.
One by one, his familiars drank.
As Fenrir turned to leave, a familiar, deeper presence intercepted him. A massive claw blocked his path, and his gaze rose to meet glowing reptilian eyes.
"Nedrax, What?"
Fenrir said, raising a brow.
The giant black-scaled dragon, still wearing an expression of perpetual boredom, leaned in closer.
"Do I get to fight this time? You’ve been locking me away too long. It’s boring."
He asked, voice low but eager.
Fenrir studied him for a moment, then smirked.
"You’ll fight. You’ll have to fight. We’re going into an S-class dungeon. And the enemies there aren’t the type I can take lightly."
A gleam sparked in Nedrax’s eyes, his wings flaring ever so slightly.
"Finally. Something worth my time."
He growled, grinning wide.
Fenrir gave a sharp nod and turned, leading the group out.
For most hunters, this would be a suicide mission.
But Fenrir wasn’t like most hunters. He had lived through the rise and fall of the Tower.
He had once ruled as a monster cloaked in human skin. And though he had long ways to go before reclaiming his former strength, he wasn’t here to hesitate.
With his familiars following close and his dragon now practically vibrating with anticipation, Fenrir walked straight toward the dungeon gate shimmering at the horizon.
This was it—the real beginning.
It wasn’t about surviving anymore.
It was about reclaiming what was his.