Mark Spencer slammed his fist down onto the table, the screen in front of him flickering slightly from the force.
"Again?"
He barked.
His secretary flinched slightly.
"I'm sorry, Sir. The Mana-Enhancing potions—"
"I know what it was. Don't tell me what happened, tell me how it happened."
Mark growled, standing up from his chair.
Nina bowed slightly, keeping her voice even.
"The Secret Hunter Services beat us to the punch this time. They had someone monitoring the listing with predictive software. As soon as the potions were posted, they had already started the purchase process."
Mark cursed under his breath and rubbed his temple.
"It's only going to get worse from here on out. These potions aren't just rare—they're revolutionary. The kind of edge they give is the kind you start wars over."
"I'll adjust our alerts and get more predictive models working. It won't happen again."
Nina promised quickly.
Mark nodded tersely but didn't look convinced.
"It better not. If 'X' keeps flooding the market like this, the entire balance between guilds is going to shift."
Across the city, in a sleek, high-rise headquarters of the Secret Hunter Services, the atmosphere was far less tense but no less focused.
Julie, the sharp-eyed and calculating leader of the SHS, leaned back in her chair as her team carefully unpacked the newly purchased potions.
"They look simple enough. But we still don't know what makes them tick."
She said, twirling one of the glass vials between her fingers.
One of her analysts, a bespectacled woman named Lea, shook her head.
"We've tried reverse engineering. The composition is dense, but subtle. There's an artificial harmony to the potion, but no distinct materials stand out. Whoever made this knows alchemy at a level we've never seen."
Julie tapped the vial on her desk.
"And the analysis on 'X'?"
"No progress there either. His listings are randomized, encrypted, and routed through multiple dummy accounts. Even the system admin can't track him—assuming he's even using a standard platform"
Another team member admitted.
Julie's fingers tightened on the potion slightly before she set it down with care.
"So we've got a genius alchemist with system-level stealth skills. We don't even know if 'X' is an individual or a front for an entire organization."
"We'll keep trying."
Lea assured her.
"Good. "This person… they're not just talented. They're deliberate. And I want them found"
Julie replied, a gleam of respect and interest in her eyes
Meanwhile, in a less chaotic part of the city, Fenrir rolled his shoulders and sighed deeply as he stared at the message on his phone.
The effects of the potions he had taken were still lingering—his stats had jumped significantly, but he knew better than to rely on numbers alone.
"Power without control is useless."
He murmured.
He scrolled through his messages and found what he was looking for: a notice from the Hunter Association.
The training dungeon, a government-monitored, neutral-zone designed for safe combat experience, had an open slot for private reservations. Fenrir didn't hesitate.
He booked it for three days.
The next morning, Fenrir arrived at the facility with his gear strapped on.
The entrance was simple—clean steel, reinforced walls, and guards who nodded silently as he passed. Inside, he entered his assigned chamber.
A digital screen confirmed his reservation and activated the internal environment.
The terrain shifted with a low hum—grasslands turning into rocky highlands, simulating different combat zones.
As the first wave of training monsters spawned, Fenrir cracked his neck and grinned.
"Let's see what all this new strength is worth."
He dashed forward, his body lighter than before.
Every movement felt more fluid, more precise. His attacks hit harder, and his reaction speed had increased noticeably.
Still, the training monsters weren't pushovers—they adapted to his attacks, forcing him to think faster, move smarter.
After three hours of continuous battle, Fenrir was drenched in sweat, his muscles sore but energized.
He paused, breathing heavily, before smirking at his reflection in a mirrored panel on the wall.
Fenrir stood shirtless in front of the mirror, examining his reflection with a thoughtful expression.
His body hadn't changed drastically in shape—still lean, still deceptively unimpressive—but he could feel it. The quiet strength beneath his skin.
The way his limbs moved, fluid and precise. There was a grace to his posture now, not unlike a blade just moments away from being unsheathed.
He opened the system panel with a flick of his fingers.
[Status Window
Attack: 42
Defence: 43
Stamina: 49
Mana: 53]
Not bad. Not enough. But not bad.
Fenrir exhaled slowly and closed the window. He had spent three full days inside his personal dungeon.
Between brewing potions, meditating, and training his control with Nedrax, the time had passed quickly—almost too quickly.
His dungeon had become more than just a storage space now; it was a sanctuary. A place where he could grow freely, without interruption.
But reality was calling again.
As soon as he exited the dungeon into his lab, a notification pinged on his wristband.
[Message from Academia Solstice: Campus will resume operations tomorrow. All safety protocols have been re-established.]
"Hm, looks like my free time is over."
Fenrir muttered.
He returned home that evening, letting the familiar quiet settle over him.
He prepped his uniform, organized his supplies, and even adjusted the enchantments on his clothing—small tweaks to maximize defensive capabilities while remaining subtle.
The next morning, he set off early.
The academy grounds were quieter than usual.
Students wandered in small groups, speaking in hushed tones.
The tension still lingered in the air, like smoke after a fire.
Fenrir could feel the glances being tossed around, the silent suspicions and rumors that buzzed like flies just out of reach.
He didn't care. Let them talk.
He spotted Elaine Croix by the courtyard fountain.
The last time he'd seen her, she had been confident, perfectly poised like a noble out of a painting. Today, she looked… shattered.
Her uniform was immaculate, but her posture was tight, guarded.
Her eyes, normally so sharp and calculating, now held something raw and distant—like someone who'd stared too long into the abyss.
Fenrir paused for a moment. He wondered what had happened. But that thought died quickly.
'Not my concern.'
He walked past her without a word. She didn't even notice.
Classes resumed with a hushed awkwardness. The professors tried to act like nothing had changed, but even they couldn't fully mask the wariness.
Fenrir barely spoke unless called upon. He answered questions with curt efficiency, took notes mechanically, and kept to himself.
By the time the final bell rang, he was already halfway to the gate when someone called out his name.
"Fenrir!"
He turned and saw Dain jogging toward him, waving one arm while struggling to hold a stack of papers with the other.
"You forgot, didn't you?"
Dain puffed, coming to a stop beside him.
Fenrir raised an eyebrow.
"Forgot what?"
"The club meeting. The dungeon exploration club? Today's an important one."
Dain said, clearly annoyed.
Fenrir cursed under his breath for joining the darn club.
But since he was a responsible person, he decided that running away was not an option and that he needed to go to the club at least once.