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."
