Nedrax's wings unfurled in a wide arc, casting a long shadow over the ground.
"Then I will follow you again, Master. I will burn the heavens if you command it."
A slow smile tugged at Fenrir's lips.
"I don't need you to burn the heavens just yet. For now, I need this place."
He looked around the floating realm—the open fields, the suspended islands, the rivers of glowing mana that cut across the skies.
"This will be the foundation of everything to come. My stronghold. My sanctuary. My forge."
Nedrax's voice rumbled with pride.
"It already is. It has always been yours. I've protected it, grown it, shaped it for you."
"I'll need more. Storage spaces. Alchemy labs. Maybe even training fields."
Fenrir said.
A warm wind swept over them, as if the realm itself responded to its master's return.
The ground pulsed faintly beneath Fenrir's feet, as if acknowledging him.
The bond between him and Nedrax flared again—old magic recognizing the connection that had once forged this entire space.
Fenrir closed his eyes briefly, feeling the mana of the realm intertwine with his own.
"Then let's get started."
Nedrax roared joyfully, wings beating the air.
"Yes, Master! Let's rebuild your kingdom."
And so began the resurrection of a power long thought gone—a shadow awakening from slumber, ready to rise once more.
______
With the dungeon now fully open and stabilized, Fenrir stood in the middle of his lab, sweat clinging to his brow and mana still pulsing unsteadily through his veins.
It had taken an immense amount of focus and strain, but he had done it—his personal dungeon was finally accessible from this world once more.
A faint shimmer appeared on the far wall of his lab, and Fenrir stepped forward to touch the surface.
The moment his fingers brushed the magical boundary, a door began to materialize.
Not just a visual illusion—this was a real, tangible gateway that now connected his physical lab with the otherworldly space he commanded.
He placed a hand on the lock and muttered an incantation. The symbols glowed, embedding deep into the doorway's framework.
"Only those I approve will ever cross this threshold."
He murmured. His mana was the key, and the lock was bound to his soul.
Not even the strongest of hackers, magicians, or divine interlopers would be able to break through without his consent. It was perfect.
A soft thud behind him drew his attention.
Small clawed feet tapped against the floor, and Nedrax, in his compact cat-sized form, waddled up beside him.
His sleek, black-scaled body shimmered faintly in the dim lab light, and his silver eyes gleamed with curiosity and purpose.
"All set up then?"
The dragon asked, tail flicking.
Fenrir nodded.
"Almost. I've linked the portal, but I want to relocate the more volatile equipment into the dungeon. It'll be safer there—protected from prying eyes and accidental exposure."
"Wise."
Nedrax agreed, already fluttering up to a workbench.
He was much smaller than his true form, but still stronger than most adult humans.
In this compact shape, he was nimble and efficient—perfect for helping Fenrir carry instruments, potion ingredients, and magical tools into the dungeon.
Over the next few hours, the two worked in tandem, moving the more important tools and vials through the shimmering door.
Once inside the dungeon, the equipment floated to designated spots where the field naturally stabilized arcane energy.
The realm bent itself to Fenrir's will, organizing itself just like he remembered.
After they were done, Fenrir leaned against the lab table and took a deep breath.
"That should do it."
Nedrax nodded, settling onto a pile of cloth like a curled cat.
"Feels like old times already. Though I do wish I could stretch my wings outside this lab."
"You'll have your freedom eventually. But for now, it's too risky to let a talking dragon roam the city.""
Fenrir assured him.
The dragon snorted.
"Fair enough."
Fenrir pushed away from the table and walked toward his brewing station.
"Next up—familiars."
Nedrax perked up.
"I'll need more hands around the dungeon. Assistants. Guards. Someone to help you when I'm not around. You're strong, but I know how you get when bored."
Fenrir smirked.
The little dragon's ears flattened as he pretended to sulk.
"I am dignified, not bored."
"I'm sure. I'll start the familiar recruitment soon. Magical beasts and spiritual constructs are on the list."
Fenrir said dryly.
Nedrax let out a pleased hum and fluttered back through the portal. Fenrir turned back to his lab.
With the dungeon foundation secured and a long-term plan forming, it was time to continue with his potion work.
He had been preparing ingredients for a new batch—a Type A Mana Enhancing potion.
The formula was already completed in his mind, and he just needed to refine the measurements.
It wasn't anything groundbreaking in theory, but it would increase the user's mana reserves by 10% for ten minutes—a considerable advantage in any battle or high-level casting scenario.
He got to work. The brewing station glowed under his precise hands.
Herbs were ground, minerals dissolved, and liquids carefully mixed until the potion turned a clear azure with light streaks of violet swirling inside. The system dinged softly.
[You have successfully brewed a Mana Enhancing Potion - Type A (C-Rank)]
Fenrir nodded to himself. The potion was stable and exactly as he calculated.
He quickly moved to bottle the batch and package them for sale.
He made sure to sort the quality, keeping the B and A-rank versions for his private use or future trusted allies. Only the D and C-rank versions would make it to the public market.
As soon as he uploaded the listing to the online exchange, he sat back and watched.
[4x Mana Enhancing Potion - Type A (C-Rank)] – SOLD
[8x Mana Enhancing Potion - Type A (D-Rank)] – SOLD
Within seconds, every single unit vanished from the market listing.
The demand was outrageous, and his mysterious seller alias "X" was now gaining a mythical status.
"Not surprising. People are desperate for anything that can give them even a slight edge."
Fenrir muttered.
He shut down the system and leaned back.
With potions selling at lightning speed and his infrastructure growing stronger by the day, things were finally lining up.
But Fenrir wasn't complacent. This was just the beginning.
Soon, he'd have a team of loyal familiars, a self-sustaining dungeon, and a supply chain unmatched in the entire world.
Fenrir stood from his seat, stretching his arms as the last notification blinked away from the corner of his screen.
"Sold out again. Not even thirty seconds this time."
He murmured.
He walked over to a wall where several racks of rare herbs were stored in carefully maintained containers.
With every potion sold, his resources grew—and that meant more room for experimentation.
He tapped one of the glass containers and watched the soft glow of the herbs pulse under his touch.
Soon, he'd start developing variations of the mana potion: long-duration effects, passive regeneration boosts, even ones tailored to different elemental affinities.
But for now, it was all about staying just out of reach.
The moment people began connecting the dots, his identity could be at risk. But it was a concern for the future him.