Chapter 55
The mist before me was not natural.
It rolled and shifted like a living thing, each tendril curling against the wind as if obeying some unseen will. Under the fading light of evening, the valley's mouth was nothing but a pale shroud—an endless curtain of silver that swallowed the world beyond. I could barely see the jagged silhouettes of rocks jutting from the ground, their edges slick with dew. Somewhere inside that haze, the dungeon pulsed. Waiting.
They called it the Silver Mist Valley, but that was a name for those who didn't know better. In the original story, Daelen had cleared it years after graduation—when both he and Marcus stood at the peak of Rank 5. Even then, the fight had nearly killed them the moment you crossed that fog, the dungeon's rules stripped you bare.
External mana? Useless.
Realm? Forcefully shackled to Rank 2.
A hunter's nightmare.
