CHAPTER 65: CH 65: SHADOWGUARD’S FANG - PART 2

The moment Fenrir handed out the Elemental Resistance Potions, still unsold and fresh from his lab, the members of Team Gram stared at the shimmering liquids like they were staring at a divine relic.

Lys, the quiet archer, blinked rapidly and mouthed something incomprehensible.

Bern held one vial in his hand, rotating it slowly to watch the dense, glittering liquid inside slosh gently against the glass.

Karl, their leader, took his without a word, brows furrowed in disbelief.

"These... these haven’t even been released to the market yet. Aren’t they still up for auction?"

He began, voice low.

"They’re not up now. They sold a while back."

Fenrir replied simply.

Karl’s hand tightened around the potion bottle, his gaze flicking from the label to Fenrir’s unreadable face.

"Young master, where did you get these? Are they real?"

He asked cautiously.

"If you’re that unsure, check the system. It’ll confirm everything for you."

Fenrir said coolly, folding his arms.

Karl winced slightly at the tone, but nodded.

"I don’t mean to offend. But I need to check for the safety of my team."

He said sincerely.

With practiced ease, he held the vial up and used the system scan function embedded in every hunter’s interface.

A glowing screen popped up in front of him, revealing the verified listing:

[Item: Elemental Resistance Potion (Custom-Made)

Effect: Increases resistance to all elemental damage by 50% for 24 hours.

Grade: A]

Karl’s eyes widened, his hand lowering slowly as he stared at the system screen, stunned into silence.

"This... this is the real thing."

He breathed.

Bern and Lys quickly followed suit, scanning their own shares.

Each of them had the same result, and a tense awe settled over the group.

Lys was the first to whisper.

"How did you get these? Only Mr. ’X’ could’ve—"

Before the rest of the sentence could form, Fenrir cut in smoothl.

"Let’s just say I have a personal connection with Mr. ’X’. These were given to me directly."

The party froze.

Karl’s gaze shifted subtly, and suddenly, so did everyone else’s. Fenrir’s cloak, high-quality and tailored.

His gloves—stitched with enchantment thread. His presence, calm and collected despite his youth. The expensive gear, the powerful potions, the casual confidence—it all added up.

A sudden breath caught in Karl’s throat, and he let out a low whistle.

"So that’s how it is."

He said slowly, eyeing Fenrir with a mixture of shock and dawning respect.

"You’re Mr. ’X’."

Fenrir didn’t confirm it, but the slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips was confirmation enough. No denial. No panic.

Karl sighed deeply and rubbed the back of his head.

"Well, damn. That explains a lot."

Bern looked between the group and gave a low chuckle.

"No wonder you’ve got so many resources. We’ve been taking orders from one of the most mysterious potion-makers in the business and didn’t even realize it."

Lys didn’t say anything, but her look at Fenrir was sharp, eyes now filled with a different kind of respect.

"But, you don’t have to worry about us. We’ll keep your secret safe. None of us have any intention of spilling this. Right, team?"

Karl said firmly, stepping forward.

The others nodded quickly.

"If word gets out, you’d have half the world’s guilds sniffing around your door."

Bern added.

"And not all of them would be friendly. Especially with how many enemies Mr. ’X’ probably has."

Karl said.

Fenrir gave a slow nod.

"I appreciate it."

"But, if I may ask—why reveal this to us at all?"

Karl added.

"I didn’t. You figured it out on your own."

Fenrir replied.

Karl chuckled.

"I see. So that’s what you think."

Then Fenrir’s tone shifted slightly, more serious but still calm.

"And if it does get out... I’ll deal with it."

That raised a few eyebrows, but Karl looked intrigued.

"You’re not worried?"

"I have... backing. Investors. Clients. Some of them are very powerful and very interested in making sure I keep producing. If anything happens to me, they lose access to the products they depend on. That kind of protection is more effective than any private guard."

Fenrir said.

There was silence at that, the kind that came when people understood that someone was far deeper into the political and economic web than he let on.

"Still, I think I’ll avoid mentioning this at the bar."

Bern muttered.

"Please do."

Fenrir said dryly.

Karl gave a short laugh and clapped his hands.

"Alright, people. You heard the man. Not a word leaves this team. We’ll keep working like we always have, but now we know just how valuable our employer really is."

"And, just how sweet our rewards are gonna get."

Bern added with a grin, holding up his potion.

Fenrir let them have their moment. He didn’t say much more, just nodded and turned to go.

The resistance potions had served more than one purpose—payment, yes, but also a subtle test of trust.

And judging by the reactions, he had chosen the right team.

As Fenrir watched Team Gram disappear from view, a long breath escaped him.

His expression was unreadable, but his thoughts were sharp and focused.

It was inevitable—his identity as Mr. ’X’ would slip out eventually.

Not because he was careless, but because he wasn’t trying that hard to hide anymore. The truth was, there wasn’t much point in hiding. Not now.

He’d become too valuable.

The top hunters, the major guilds, even private military contractors—anyone who mattered was either already lining up for his potions or trying to hunt him down for them.

His products had made their way to influential figures and powerful players, and with every bottle that passed into their hands, his leverage increased.

What he needed now wasn’t secrecy. It was strategy.

The tower would rise soon. It was only a matter of time.

And when it did, every piece on the board would move. Fenrir didn’t intend to be caught scrambling when that happened.

If he wanted to claim his place, if he wanted the control and safety his fragile body required, he would need loyal allies—reliable, competent, and indebted to him.

To do that, he’d have to start letting more information trickle out.

People followed power. But more importantly, they followed stories.

If he fed them just the right pieces of who he was, the myth of Mr. ’X’ could become something more than a shadowy supplier. It could become a force.

A reason to rally.

______

Team Gram returned to their base—if it could still be called that.

Their celebration was brief.

They raised their potions in the air, still in disbelief at what they’d received.

Bern shouted something about retiring early, and Tom actually wept when he realized just how much the potion could sell for.

But then, as the dust settled, they looked around at the cracked walls, broken windows, and crooked doorframe.

Lys wrinkled her nose.

"Shouldn’t we fix this place first before dreaming about luxury?"

Bern chuckled.

"You offering to pay, Lys?"

She crossed her arms.

"Don’t look at me. I didn’t blow all our earnings on that last dungeon expedition."

Karl rubbed his temples.

"It doesn’t matter. We’re still knee-deep in debt."

Tom, the usually quiet one, cleared his throat.

"Then... should we sell the potion? Just one of them. It could clear most of what we owe."

His voice was hesitant.

The room went quiet.

Karl looked down at the gleaming vial in his hand.

The idea of selling it made his stomach twist—such a rare thing, a personal reward from Mr. ’X’ himself.

But he also couldn’t ignore the desperate state of their headquarters. His responsibility was to his team, after all.

"I’ll ask the young master first. I’m not making a move that could anger him."

Karl finally said.

No one argued.

Because even if he didn’t ask for it, everyone in Team Gram already knew: their employer wasn’t someone you crossed.