Fenrir emerged in the center of his private dungeon, the familiar earthy scent of mana-infused soil and fresh herbs greeting him like an old friend.
The air was warm and tranquil, infused with the soft rustling of leaves and the faint splashes of water from a distance.
He looked around and was immediately met with the sight of his hamster familiars in action.
Dozens of them moved in a coordinated pattern—some carried watering cans almost as big as themselves, others plucked fully grown herbs with practiced ease, while a few organized the harvested ingredients into neat little piles beside the herb beds.
When they noticed Fenrir's arrival, they immediately dropped what they were doing and scurried over to him.
Within seconds, they lined up in front of him, backs straight, little eyes gleaming with expectation.
Fenrir raised an eyebrow.
"What's this? A greeting committee?"
The hamsters puffed out their chests, their tiny paws behind their backs, awaiting his words.
