Tyrant's return: Reborn as a Good-For-Nothing Young Master
Chapter 81: Ch 81: Search for Mystica Herba- Part 3

Chapter 81: Ch 81: Search for Mystica Herba- Part 3

When Fenrir arrived at the gates of the Swallow’s Nest, he immediately noticed the tension in the air.

The entrance to the S-class dungeon pulsed with a dim crimson glow, and around it stood several armed guards dressed in high-grade equipment, scanning every entrant with wary eyes.

The security was tighter than any other dungeon he’d been to recently, and for good reason—Swallow’s Nest had a reputation for chewing through even elite teams.

A quick glance around told him there were only two, maybe three, groups preparing to enter.

All of them were clearly experienced hunters, moving with the kind of precision that came from countless close brushes with death.

But even among them, he stood out—not because he was powerful, but because he was alone.

As Fenrir casually strolled closer to the shimmering dungeon gate, one of the guards stepped in front of him and held up a hand.

"Solo entry isn’t recommended. S-class dungeons aren’t your average meat-grinder. You need a party."

The man said sharply.

Fenrir paused, letting his features shift into a pleasant, harmless expression.

"I’m not alone. I’m waiting for my party to arrive."

He replied.

The guard looked him up and down skeptically.

"You don’t have gear on you for a party leader. And no one here’s reported expecting someone."

Fenrir maintained his calm, letting out a soft chuckle while keeping his irritation tucked beneath the surface.

"Then maybe someone made a mistake in the report. Either way, I’m not going in until they show up."

The guard grunted but seemed to lose interest.

Technically, Fenrir wasn’t breaking any rules by standing near the gate. Still, he could feel eyes on him—from guards, from other hunters, from staff nearby.

Everyone was silently wondering what this lone, young-looking player was doing loitering around a dungeon only elites dared challenge.

’People really have gotten rude in this era. Back in the tower, no one would have dared stop someone like me and waste my time.’

Fenrir thought, lips curled in a small, polite smile.

He stepped back, giving a show of checking his device, pretending to scroll through messages as if waiting.

A few minutes passed, attention slowly shifting away from him as the guards returned to their original posts and the other teams focused on their preparations.

The moment was perfect.

In one smooth motion, Fenrir activated his stealth skill, a product of one of his newer enchantments, and slipped through the dungeon gate.

The shimmer passed over his body like water, and in an instant, he was inside the Swallow’s Nest.

Heat slammed into him like a wall. The air was heavy with sulfur, ash, and the crackling pressure of unstable mana.

Beneath his feet, a thin crust of cooled lava cracked and hissed with every step, and he almost didn’t notice the lava bubble swelling under the surface.

He leapt back just in time, the bubble bursting in a spray of molten rock.

"Cheerful welcome."

He muttered, brushing off flecks of black stone.

He scanned the terrain more carefully this time.

The Swallow’s Nest lived up to its name—twisted rock formations like bird nests hung from the cavernous ceiling, glowing with residual heat, while rivers of lava cut deep trenches into the floor.

Crags and obsidian pillars jutted from every direction, making it difficult to find a clear path.

"It’s no wonder people struggle here. This place is a death trap before you even meet a monster."

Fenrir said to himself.

Luckily, he’d come prepared.

Reaching into his pack, he pulled out one of the resistance potions he’d brewed just days ago.

He drank it in one smooth gulp, grimacing at the taste. A moment later, his skin felt cooler, and his body adjusted to the oppressive heat.

The potion was doing its job. Now he could move freely.

With his familiars safely tucked away in the summoning ring at his side, Fenrir decided to scout ahead solo for now.

He needed to get his bearings, assess how deep into the dungeon the Mystica Herba could be hiding, and most importantly, avoid unnecessary combat until he found the optimal route.

Still, a part of him stirred with excitement.

The challenge. The danger.

The mystery of the herb and the promise of power.

He hadn’t felt this kind of thrill since the Tower days.

And though the terrain wanted to kill him, the flames tried to burn him, and even the air itself seemed to resist his presence—he felt alive.

This was just the beginning.

_______

Most of the monsters inside Swallow’s Nest were fire-type creatures—lava hounds with molten fangs, ash serpents that moved through flame like water, and flame spirits that danced across the air, hurling fireballs as big as a man’s head.

Fenrir quickly realized that raw mana manipulation wouldn’t help him here, especially not fire-attribute mana, which the monsters absorbed and twisted.

Even water-based attacks, which should have had an elemental advantage, were only half as effective due to the overwhelming fire affinity saturating the dungeon.

Which meant he had to think smarter.

Instead of forcing brute attacks, Fenrir shifted his approach.

He equipped the weapon he’d crafted specifically for endurance—a lightweight, mana-stabilized dagger that gave him a high resistance boost and allowed him to focus more on support than direct assault.

With his familiars out in full force—especially the battle-hardened hamsters darting around like fireproof shadows—he left most of the monster clearing to them.

Despite their appearance, each hamster had a combat-enhanced core and was wearing miniature gear infused with anti-fire enchantments.

Fenrir moved behind them, directing traffic and maintaining terrain control.

Rather than fighting the fire, he leaned into the element that stood strongest against it—earth.

He activated his terrain manipulation skill, drawing mana into the scorched ground beneath him.

With effort and focus, he could lift up jagged stone slabs as shields, carve trenches to redirect lava flows, or raise sudden spikes to skewer enemies that got too close.

Midway through a particularly intense encounter with a three-headed flame brute, the system chimed softly in his ear.

[Skill Unlocked: Master of Earth.

You have achieved deep synchronization with the terrain. Mana cost for all earth-based skills reduced by 30%. You may now shape terrain to your will. Duration and size limits increase with mastery level.]

Fenrir narrowed his eyes in satisfaction.

"That’s more like it."

With this new skill unlocked, his ability to manipulate the battlefield improved dramatically.

Now, when the hamsters faced a surge of lava elementals, he summoned a dome of stone to absorb the initial shock, then crafted a narrow corridor that forced the monsters to funnel into a kill zone.

It wasn’t just about power—it was about control.

By using the terrain, supporting his familiars, and adapting his strategy, Fenrir moved deeper into the dungeon with efficiency and precision.

He knew that the Mystica Herba wouldn’t be out in the open.

But with the Master of Earth skill in his hands and his endurance holding strong, he was confident: he was getting closer.

Each step deeper into the dungeon tested Fenrir’s endurance, but the thrill of progress kept him going.

With Master of Earth shaping his every move, he began sensing subtle energy trails beneath the scorched ground—faint signatures of life that didn’t belong to the fire-type monsters.

The Mystica Herba was near.