After collecting the necessary ingredients from the last two dungeons, Fenrir barely gave himself time to rest.
The final components were now in his possession, and with that, it was time to begin the most dangerous and complex part of his plan—forcing open the door to his personal dungeon.
His lab was completely sealed off from the outside, with barrier layers triple-reinforced.
The ingredients were laid out in a circular pattern on the floor: a mix of spiritual crystals, arcane herbs, and mana-rich stones, each placed in precise alignment to act as a conductor.
Fenrir stood at the center, eyes closed, hands outstretched.
Slowly, he began to pour his mana into the array.
He didn't rush. The ritual required finesse.
Each node had to be awakened, connected to the others by a thread of his mana. It was like stitching together fragments of a long-forgotten realm with his own energy acting as the needle and thread.
Then came the hard part—he had to reach inside himself, to the core of his soul where the remnants of his past life still lingered, and pull open the door.
A shudder went through his body the moment he tried.
The system blared a warning in his mind:
[Warning: Mana threshold exceeded. Immediate rest is recommended. Further strain may result in permanent damage.]
Fenrir clenched his jaw.
He couldn't stop now. If he broke the connection mid-process, the mana would lash back at him violently.
So, despite the burning in his veins and the pressure squeezing his chest, he pushed through.
The moment he felt the "crack," something inside him snapped—and then, silence.
A second later, it was as if he were plunging underwater.
His breath caught in his throat. His vision blurred. And then—
He opened his eyes, not in his lab, but in an expansive field under a turquoise sky, dotted with floating islands.
Magic danced in the air, thick enough to taste. The scent of wildflowers and clean wind filled his lungs.
______
And off in the distance, something massive moved.
A great shadow glided across the grasslands, dancing and twirling with surprising grace.
Scales darker than the void shimmered with silver flecks, and each movement was accompanied by an echo of childish laughter.
The massive black dragon, a being both ancient and youthful, was playing.
As it spun and fluttered, its magic cloaked it, shrinking its body into a smaller, almost elfin form with glowing silver eyes.
It leapt between the air and the ground, laughing to itself in a child's voice.
"I'm free! Finally free! This space is mine now! I can live here as long as I want! No one can hurt me anymore!"
But just as the little dragon was about to soar again, a wave of unease rolled through the land.
The sky cracked open with a thunderous sound. The magic in the air trembled.
The dragon froze mid-air and stared up. Its silver eyes widened as a long-forgotten feeling rippled through its being.
It felt… drawn.
"No… not again…Is it loneliness…? Or…"
It murmured.
A moment later, a tear in the fabric of the realm opened, and a figure tumbled out.
Fenrir collapsed onto the field, breath ragged. His body convulsed once before he rolled over and stared up at the strange sky.
The pressure in his body faded slightly, though his limbs still trembled from the stress.
The dragon stared, stunned, and approached cautiously.
The human was slight—frail-looking even. But the magic around him was thick, old, and familiar.
"Who…Who are you?"
The dragon whispered, now in its smaller form, cautiously stepping closer.
Nedrax, the mighty dragon of shadow and silver flame, stared in stunned silence as the human form emerged from the rift in the sky and collapsed onto the soft grass of the realm.
"A… human?"
He muttered, his small, fluttering form circling above Fenrir with narrowed eyes.
He considered the possibilities.
No one had entered this space in centuries. This realm, his realm now, was isolated—sealed away from the world.
And yet, here was a fragile little creature, breathing the same air, stepping on the same ground.
His silver eyes gleamed.
"Heh. Is this fate? Perhaps this pitiful creature was meant to serve me—be my first servant in my new kingdom."
A pleased grin began to spread across his face.
He hovered a little lower, puffing out his chest as he prepared to declare his intent to the unconscious man below.
But then it hit him.
A surge of overwhelming mana pressure radiated from the human's body—old, powerful, and painfully familiar.
The dragon's wings faltered mid-air, and he dropped a few feet before scrambling upright. His body trembled as a long-buried soul bond flared to life within him.
His eyes widened.
"No… it can't be—"
The man's eyes fluttered open, and the moment they locked onto Nedrax, he gave a tired smile.
"Nedrax, I'm back."
He said softly, like greeting an old friend.
That voice. That mana. That bond.
The dragon froze, his tiny form rooted to the spot before it began to glow and shift, reshaping into his larger, more regal form.
Gleaming black scales shimmered with silver streaks. His wings unfurled, and his tail curled instinctively.
"Master…It's really you."
Nedrax whispered.
He landed beside Fenrir, lowering his massive head close to him.
His voice, usually proud and powerful, now trembled with emotion.
"Where… where have you been? I waited. I kept this place safe. For you."
Fenrir sat up slowly, rubbing the side of his neck.
"I died. The spell I prepared before my death only completed itself a few days ago. And now… I've been reincarnated."
He said simply.
Nedrax's eyes softened. The mighty dragon, protector of this arcane world, looked both relieved and heartbroken at once.
"You came back… after all this time…"
"I promised you, didn't I? I said I'd come back and set you free. That I'd tear open the chains of this place and release you from your duty."
Fenrir said, standing on shaky legs.
"You remembered…You remembered me…"
Nedrax muttered, voice choked.
"I never forgot."
There was silence between them for a long moment.
The wind rustled the strange grasses, and the sky above shimmered faintly with magic. Then Nedrax leaned forward, gently nudging Fenrir with his snout.
"Welcome home, Master."
Fenrir chuckled softly and reached out, patting the dragon's nose.
"It's good to see you again."
The moment passed, and Nedrax straightened up.
"Now that you're back… what do you intend to do?"
Fenrir's expression hardened, and his silver eyes turned cold.
"There's only one thing left for me now. To get stronger. Stronger than I was before. Stronger than any of them."
Nedrax tilted his head.
"Them?"
"The divine fools. The ones who meddled in the mortal world, decided who deserved power and who didn't. The ones who tried to erase me."
Fenrir growled.
The dragon's tail lashed with rage at the mention of them.
"They betrayed you. After all you gave. After everything you built—"
"I know. But this time, they'll see. I'll rise again. And when I do, I'll show them just how wrong they were to stand against me. Their lies will no longer work against me."
Fenrir cut in.