The air outside the dungeon shimmered as the teleportation platform lit up once again—but this time, it wasn't the pale blue light of a normal return.

It was blood red.

The crowd of adventurers and merchants nearby froze mid-motion. Conversations halted. A silence fell like a heavy veil over the entrance plaza. All eyes turned toward the platform.

"What…?" someone whispered.

"That's the extreme mode teleport signal…"

"No way. Nobody came back from that before. Not alone."

The red light pulsed once more before dimming away.

And there he stood.

Ren Arclight, cloaked in the Alpha Wolf mantle, the faint glow of fresh power still clinging to his gear. His sword was sheathed, the buckler strapped to his left arm. His presence was sharper, his gaze deeper, and even his steps seemed heavier with silent purpose.

The silence snapped.

Adventurers surged forward, crowding around him in a flood of voices.

"Did you actually clear it? Solo?!"

"What kind of monsters were inside?"

"What was the boss like?"

"Was it… even possible to survive in there alone?"

Questions flew like arrows, but none dared ask about the one thing they were all secretly dying to know—the loot. To question another adventurer about their gains was considered a breach of honor. No matter how desperate the curiosity, the crowd respected the unspoken code.

Ren gave a tired smile, trying his best to answer. "The dungeon was… intense. But manageable if you don't get hit. The boss was elemental-based, switched types mid-fight. Took time to figure out the pattern."

A few murmurs of awe rose at that, along with exchanged glances from party leaders and veterans alike. Some looked inspired. Others looked shaken.

Then the sound of boots cut through the crowd.

"Make way," came a firm voice.

The crowd parted as Commander Elara Vance approached, clad in her blackened cuirass with her red commander's cloak fluttering behind her. Her piercing eyes swept over the scene before locking onto Ren.

Her expression shifted from composed authority to a flicker of disbelief.

"You really did it," she said, halting in front of him.

Ren bowed his head slightly. "I did."

She looked him up and down, reading the faint residue of mana still drifting from his form. Her sharp eyes narrowed slightly.

"Solo. Extreme difficulty. You realize no one's ever returned from that before."

"I figured," Ren replied, shrugging. "It wasn't… easy. But it worked out."

A brief silence passed between them before Elara turned and gestured with one hand. "Come. Let's get you back to Newvale. You've earned more than just a crowd of questions."

She led him through the parted sea of onlookers, her presence alone holding back any more inquiries. Whispers followed them, but none dared step closer. The red light from the platform had left an imprint on their minds—and Ren's quiet, steady steps told them all they needed to know.

This wasn't just an adventurer anymore.

He was something different.

The gates of Newvale creaked open, and the familiar scent of hearthfire and tilled earth greeted Ren once again. But this time, the weight on his shoulders wasn't weariness—it was accomplishment. The Alpha Wolf cloak rustled behind him, its silver fur glinting under the sun as he strode beside Commander Elara Vance.

They entered the Guild Hall, and though many turned their heads in recognition, none approached. The hush that followed Ren's entry earlier at the dungeon plaza seemed to have traveled ahead of him. Elara led him through the main lobby, past the counter, and down a side corridor lined with reinforced doors.

At Ren's request, they stopped before a private room. The attendant waiting outside—an older man with a monocle and graying hair—bowed deeply as they entered.

Inside, the room was quiet, windowless, with a large oak table at its center. Ren stood at one end, Elara at the other, the attendant between them with quill and parchment ready.

Ren exhaled and opened his palm.

With a shimmer of light, his dimensional storage unfurled. From the rift in space, he pulled forth crates, cores, materials, enchanted alloys, elemental stones, rare bones, and magical flora. The table groaned under the weight as more and more emerged.

The attendant's quill slipped from his fingers.

Elara raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms, her tone half amused, half impressed. "Smart. Keeping your gains hidden until now. That's a level of caution I rarely see in young adventurers. Explain."

Ren nodded. "I figured it was better to reveal things privately. Showing rare materials in public would just invite trouble… and attention I don't want."

"A wise move," Elara said approvingly. "You may walk like a lone wolf, but you think like a survivor. That will serve you well."

The attendant, regaining his composure, cleared his throat and bowed. "I'll require assistance, Commander. There's… far too much for one pair of eyes."

Elara nodded. "Summon the senior appraisers. Quietly."

Within minutes, three more seasoned guild appraisers arrived. Each was sworn to silence, and they bowed to Elara before setting to work. One by one, the materials were analyzed, categorized, and documented. The room filled with murmurs of disbelief.

"This flamecore fragment is refined, and not even cracked…"

"Is this… is this a still-active Voidstone?"

"He brought back a Crystal Elemental Core… in one piece?"

Ren sat calmly through it all, arms crossed, eyes distant. He was already thinking ahead.

When the final parchment was filled, the lead appraiser turned to Elara, pale.

"These… these materials are worth well over 1.2 million gold. Possibly more in trade cities."

Elara whistled low. "That's enough to fund a minor kingdom."

The attendant bowed deeply. "Commander… the Newvale guild doesn't have that kind of liquid capital."

Ren simply smiled. "That's fine. I wasn't expecting full payment here."

He turned to Elara. "Is there a bigger city? Somewhere I can sell and trade, maybe meet other crafters?"

Elara gave a thoughtful nod. "There's Veltharn, a major trade city three days north by foot. Caravans pass through often, and the city's auction halls are… extravagant, to say the least."

"Perfect," Ren replied. "I'll head there next."

She narrowed her eyes at him, but there was a quiet pride behind her expression. Then, she stepped forward and pulled a small metal badge from her cloak. She held it out to him.

"With your dungeon feat… clearing Extreme Mode solo… I'm promoting you to A-Rank. Effective immediately."

Ren blinked. "That fast?"

"Some promotions are earned with time," Elara said. "Others are earned with blood and legend. You've done both."

She pinned the badge to his chest.

"And from this day forward," she added, "you are hereby granted the title: Lone Wolf. In honor of the beast you wear—and the path you chose to walk alone."

Ren looked down at the badge, then to the title notification hovering faintly in the corner of his vision. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"…I'll wear it well."

He turned to leave the room, but paused before the door. "I'll be back. Newvale's still my first home in this world."

Elara gave a slight nod. "We'll be waiting. And next time… don't come back without a story."

Ren grinned. "I never do."

Ren stepped out of the guild hall, the A-Rank badge freshly pinned to his cloak and the weight of wealth tucked neatly into his dimensional storage. He gave a polite wave to the guild staff—many of whom watched him with wide-eyed respect—and made his way toward the forge district.

The familiar heat of smelted iron and the scent of smoke welcomed him home like an old friend.

As Ren approached the forge, the heavy oak doors swung open before he could even knock. Master Farrin, sleeves rolled up and arms crossed over his soot-stained apron, stood waiting at the threshold.

"So," the old smith said, his deep voice already laced with amusement, "the little pup returns a wolf."

Ren raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Word travels fast."

"Faster than you walked back, that's for sure," Farrin grunted. "I heard you cleared that dungeon. Extreme Mode. Alone."

Ren said nothing, just offering a subtle nod as he stepped into the forge.

Farrin's gaze darted toward him, lingering with curiosity. "So… I imagine you've brought back more than just bruises. Care to show me what treasures you unearthed?"

Ren chuckled, folding his arms. "Are you trying to butter me up, old man?"

"I'm just saying," Farrin said, with an exaggerated shrug, "a smith's hands don't stay idle for long. And mine are starting to itch something fierce."

They stood there for a moment—Ren's amused stare meeting the eager glint in Farrin's eyes.

"…Alright," Ren finally said, "but only if we do this my way."

He raised his hand, and with a shimmer of light, several legendary materials emerged one by one from his dimensional storage: the Crystal Elemental Core, veins of Mythril-Glass Alloy, several shards of Obsidian Flame Ore, a few spools of Arcane-Silk Thread, and even fragments of the Voidbone he pulled from the mid-boss's lair.

Farrin's jaw slackened ever so slightly. His eyes flicked across the materials like a starving man before a feast.

"By the Forgefather's beard… boy, where did you find half of this?"

Ren smirked. "Extreme mode, remember?"

Farrin let out a long breath, stepping forward like a man hypnotized. His hands hovered just over the materials, trembling slightly. "These… these could make artifacts, not just weapons."

"And they will," Ren said, stepping beside him, "but I want to help. No—I want to learn. You handle the parts that are too dangerous or delicate, but everything else, I want to be hands-on."

Farrin raised a brow. "You want to forge with this? These materials are temperamental. One wrong step and the whole batch could turn to useless slag."

Ren nodded firmly. "Then teach me. Guide me. I'm not asking you to hand it over—I'm asking you to forge with me."

Farrin stood there for a long moment, silent, staring at the young man before him. The fire in Ren's eyes reminded him of something long buried—a passion not just to wield strength, but to understand it, to build it.

Finally, the old smith let out a heavy breath, shaking his head. "You're mad. And ambitious. But I suppose I've taught worse."

Ren grinned.

Farrin rolled up his sleeves. "Fine. Let's start by sorting these materials. If we're going to forge together, you'll follow my instructions to the letter. You ruin even a single grain of Starweave Dust, I'll wallop you with the tongs myself."

"Deal," Ren said, already moving to the toolbench.

And so, under the crackling heat of the forge, a new chapter began—not just in strength, but in craft. The legendary materials were no longer just prizes—they were the next step in Ren's evolution. And this time, he wouldn't just wear the future.

He'd forge it.