CHAPTER 62: CH 62: RESISTANCE POTION- PART 1

After a quick shower and a change into more comfortable clothes, Fenrir made his way to his lab with a towel still hanging around his neck.

He glanced out the window as he passed by, clicking his tongue in mild annoyance.

"The square’s getting noisier by the day."

He muttered.

From the second floor, he could see the little plaza just outside his block, which had once been a hotspot for low-tier gang activity. Now it was practically a playground.

Children ran between market stalls, laughing and tossing snacks to each other, and vendors yelled out prices over the buzz of conversation.

It was lively—and that irritated him.

He had chosen this building specifically for how abandoned it used to be.

"Why does every place I pick suddenly become popular?"

He grumbled, pushing open the door to his lab.

Inside, the familiar coolness of the lab washed over him.

The shelves were lined with vials, dried herbs, glowing stones, and bubbling test tubes, each section meticulously arranged.

Fenrir walked past them and stopped at his workbench, where he had a new project in mind.

"A potion for elemental resistance."

He said aloud, setting his notebook down and flipping it open.

He needed this one for an important reason—he planned to start forging soon.

And although his [Lava Lake] skill gave him considerable resistance to heat, it didn’t do much for actual durability. His body was still fragile.

Exposure to extreme conditions could kill him if he wasn’t careful.

The potion wouldn’t be a cure-all, but it would give him just enough resistance to work near elemental materials like molten iron or enchanted ice.

Especially once he started blending potion crafting with smithing.

He gathered the herbs he had selected earlier—Thornmint, Glacial Bloom, and Redscale Root—and tossed them into a large container.

With practiced movements, he activated the flash extractor, a device meant to quickly extract mana-rich properties from raw ingredients.

But the moment he turned it on, the machine gave a sharp screech.

"Huh?"

The inner chamber began to glow a bit too brightly, and the pressure inside rose rapidly. Alarms started flashing.

Fenrir narrowed his eyes.

"Don’t—"

A sharp crack echoed as sparks danced across the containment runes.

"—explode."

He slapped the emergency shutdown, and the machine fizzled out with a faint hiss. Smoke rose from its vents, and the scent of half-burned herbs filled the room.

Fenrir stared at it for a moment. Then he sighed, rubbing his forehead.

"Of course. First roadblock."

The flash extractor was a risky tool to use on a delicate formula like this.

He had hoped to shortcut the brewing time, but clearly, it wasn’t going to cooperate.

Either the mana values were too unstable, or he hadn’t calibrated the settings properly. Whatever the case, the message was clear: he’d have to do it the old-fashioned way.

He swept the scorched remains into the waste bin and fetched a fresh batch of herbs.

This time, he loaded them into a large container, carefully layering them according to the traditional method—Glacial Bloom at the bottom for grounding, Redscale Root in the middle for heat balance, and Thornmint on top for mana infusion.

With everything set, Fenrir stepped over to the dimensional doorway and opened the shimmering portal to his personal dungeon.

The air on the other side was cooler, still, and dark—perfect for slow, methodical brewing.

He picked up the heavy container and walked through.

"If the world wants to make things hard for me. Fine! I’ll just take the longer route."

He muttered,

The portal closed behind him.

As soon as Fenrir stepped into the cool, dim space of his personal dungeon, he was immediately swarmed by a familiar blur of fur.

"Master!"

"Welcome back!"

The five hamster familiars skidded across the stone floor and surrounded him, standing on their hind legs and offering crisp little salutes.

Their bright eyes sparkled with eagerness, and their tiny pouches were filled with snacks and trinkets—souvenirs from their previous battles, no doubt.

Fenrir gave a small chuckle and nodded at them.

"Good to see you’re all still energetic."

He placed the large bowl of herbs on a low table, then set an empty container and a small flash vessel beside it.

"Here’s your task. I want you to carefully separate the flower petals from the rest of the herbs. Only the petals—don’t crush them—and fill the flash with as many as you can. This is delicate work, so I’m trusting you five with it."

He said, pointing.

"Understood!"

"We’ll do our best!"

The hamsters scrambled up the side of the bowl and began working immediately.

Their small paws were surprisingly nimble, and despite their tendency to chatter, they remained focused on the task.

Fenrir watched for a moment, arms crossed, before letting out a satisfied breath.

"They’re better at this than I expected. I could get used to this.""

He murmured.

The more he watched them, the more the idea appealed to him.

Having these little workers around to handle the repetitive or time-consuming parts of potion-making could be a game-changer.

Especially in the future—once he began juggling potion research, forging, and handling the Mr. ’X’ identity—he’d be far too busy to handle all the grunt work himself.

Having familiars like this was not just convenient, it was efficient.

And best of all, they didn’t talk back.

Just as Fenrir was making mental notes to consider summoning more familiars in the future, a grating voice echoed through the dungeon corridors.

"Hey! What about me, huh?"

Fenrir sighed and turned slightly to see Nedrax, the small, floating dragon, zoom into view with an exaggerated pout on his snout.

He swirled around Fenrir’s head a few times, wings fluttering in frustration.

"I’m bored out of my mind! You brought those squeaky furballs in, and now I’ve got nothing to do!"

"You’re seriously jealous of hamsters?"

Fenrir asked, raising an eyebrow.

"They get all the assignments! I’m stronger, cooler, and way more majestic than a pack of rodents!"

Fenrir rolled his eyes but eventually gave in.

"Fine. You want something to do? Then manage them."

Nedrax blinked.

"Manage?"

"Yeah. Make sure they’re doing the job right. No petals getting crushed, no snacks getting mixed in. You’re the supervisor. Think you can handle that?"

Nedrax puffed up with pride, chest out and wings flared.

"Of course I can! Leave it to me, boss!"

He zipped down to the hamsters, immediately shouting instructions like a miniature drill sergeant, though the hamsters barely acknowledged him, used to his antics.

Fenrir let out a snort and muttered.

"He’s too much like a kid..."

But at least he was occupied now.

Fenrir turned back to his main task and began preparing the base for the resistance potion.

With the hamsters sorting the materials and Nedrax ensuring quality control—well, somewhat—he could focus entirely on the brewing process.

He double-checked his notes and slowly began mixing the other core ingredients: lavaweed extract for heat resistance, frostbite shavings for cold protection, and stabilizers to prevent them from reacting violently when combined.

He moved with precision, grinding and stirring in exact ratios, and gently simmering the mixture in a mana-insulated cauldron.

Every once in a while, he glanced back to see the hamsters working hard and Nedrax flapping around them.

Despite the earlier chaos, everything was running smoothly now.

Fenrir cracked a small smile.

It wasn’t a perfect lab. It wasn’t even a proper team.

But somehow... this odd little group of his was starting to feel reliable.

And in his line of work, that was rarer than any potion ingredient.