Tyrant's return: Reborn as a Good-For-Nothing Young Master

The path to the seventh floor wasn’t hidden well—not to someone like Fenrir.

He stood on the edge of a wide plaza carved into the side of a steep hill, shadows concealing his presence behind an old vendor’s stall.

Ahead, at the far end of the stone courtyard, stood an archway brimming with faint blue light.

Unlike the open gate designs on earlier floors, this one pulsed with an eerie, contained pressure—a sealed boss room. The entrance to the next floor.

But what caught Fenrir’s attention more were the numbers.

Dozens of guards patrolled the area in tight formation. Some were posted near the entrance, others circled the perimeter.

All wore polished uniforms, eyes sharp and weapons ready. The presence of suppression towers nearby explained why his system still hadn’t responded since arriving.

Kael crouched behind a crate nearby, peeking around the edge.

"This is the entrance.But you’re not getting through this many guards without support. You still have time to turn back. Maybe even—"

He whispered, hesitating, then added.

"—maybe even embrace the rebellion. We could work together—"