I spent the early morning reviewing everything I had done up to this point. My clears of the [Frozen Wasteland] had been clean, efficient, and profitable. Still, I wanted to push myself further.
I had already tested my limits with [Flame Control] and the surprise evolution into [Ember Spear]. The results were staggering—monsters that once took me multiple strikes now went down in one, two at most. Adding [Arctic Armor] and [Safeguard] into my rotation made my survival guaranteed, even against stronger elites.
But I needed to keep pushing.
The city had more to offer than just one E-rank dungeon. My next step was clear—one of the notorious D-rank dungeons, [Orc Abode]. Unlike the frozen wasteland, this dungeon was teeming with brutal melee-type monsters, creatures that thrived on overwhelming strength and raw numbers.
If I wanted to truly test myself, that was the place.
I ran [Frozen Wasteland] three more times before heading out. Each clear was faster than the last—my skill rotations smoother, my timing sharper. [Flame Control] into [Ember Spear], followed by [Fireball] or [Fireblast] to mop up stragglers. I barely needed to activate [Safeguard] thanks to [Arctic Armor]'s passive defensive layering.
In less than two hours, I walked away with a pile of monster cores, two skill books I had no interest in, and a heavy purse. By now, farming the dungeon felt more like clockwork than survival.
But I knew the danger level was going to rise soon. Dungeons weren't static. The more often they were cleared, the faster the respawn cycle, and eventually, the dungeon itself could mutate. The [Frozen Wasteland] was already carrying a faint orange tint along its edges—an omen.
Best to move forward.
The [Orc Abode] was a rank higher, and the difference was immediately noticeable. The monolith that housed the dungeon pulsed with a heavy green glow, veins of mana rippling through it like living blood.
D-rank hunters clustered near the gates, moving in small squads of four or five. The atmosphere was tense, the air filled with the sound of steel clinking against armor. A far cry from the laid-back, underpopulated edges of the [Frozen Wasteland].
No one paid me any mind as I passed. With my plain clothes and F-rank license, I looked like just another rookie trying to gawk at the higher-ranked hunters. None of them knew I'd been running a dungeon solo, multiple times a day. And I preferred it that way.
I touched the stone surface of the monolith. The world blurred, then refocused.
[Dungeon: Orc Abode]
The air was humid, heavy with the stench of blood and sweat. Wooden barricades lined the wide cavern, and orcs patrolled in groups of three to five. Unlike the ice wolves and bears, these monsters weren't beasts—they were warriors. Taller than men, musclebound, tusked, and wielding jagged weapons.
The first group spotted me almost immediately.
A guttural roar shook the air as the orcs charged. Their speed was deceptive, their footsteps shaking the dirt floor. I steadied myself, raising one hand.
"[Flame Control]."
Fire bent to my will, compressing into a spear of burning orange. I thrust forward.
[Ember Spear] shot across the air like a bolt of lightning, impaling the lead orc straight through the chest. It staggered, burning alive before collapsing.
The other two reached me a second later.
"[Safeguard]."
A golden shimmer wrapped around my body. One orc's axe slammed into my side—it didn't even scratch me. With my other hand, I flicked a wrist.
"[Fireball]."
The orb of fire exploded against the second orc's face, sending it toppling backward, charred and smoking.
The last one roared, swinging its crude blade with reckless abandon. I stepped into the strike, activating [Arctic Armor]. A cold sheen layered over my body, reducing the impact to nothing more than a dull push.
"[Fireblast]."
A torrent of flames engulfed the orc point-blank, hurling it back into the barricade with a scream.
I exhaled slowly.
Efficient. Clean.
I pressed deeper into the dungeon, fighting wave after wave. Each encounter tested the layering of my defenses, but [Safeguard] plus [Arctic Armor] kept me unharmed, while [Flame Control] allowed me to mix raw destruction with precision strikes. [Ember Spear] skewered orc elites before they could rally, and the weaker ones burned in clusters to [Fireblast].
By the time I cleared the tenth floor, my movements felt sharper than ever, as if my skills were finally meshing into something more than raw power.
Not just survival. Not just efficiency.
Mastery.
And I wasn't even close to finished.