CHAPTER 68: CH 68: THE HUNT IS OUT - PART 1

As Fenrir prepared to leave for the hidden A-class dungeon, a message pinged on his screen. It was from Karl, the leader of Team Gram.

[Karl: Young Master... I hope you’re doing well. I had a request. We’re running low on funds and... would it be alright if we sold the potions you gave us?]

Fenrir stared at the message for a moment. His first instinct was irritation, but it faded quickly.

The potions had served their purpose. He’d handed them over freely and with no strings attached.

He replied curtly:

[Fenrir: Do whatever you want. They’re yours now.]

Karl’s response came swiftly, full of relief.

[Karl: Thank you. Truly. We’ll be careful.]

Fenrir set the device aside and turned back to his preparations. He had an important dungeon to clear and didn’t need distractions.

But within the hour, Karl’s listings had already caught fire online.

The potions were instantly recognizable.

Even before they’d sold, screenshots of their stats were all over the web. +50% elemental resistance — a property that no known potion had ever been able to match.

That was enough for the hunting community to start foaming at the mouth.

What made things explode even more was the seller account. A simple, verified adventurer’s ID belonging to Karl of Team Gram. People began to ask questions.

"Is this guy Mr. ’X’?"

"No way! Is it his alt?"

"Why would some mid-tier team have these potions?"

Karl tried to deflect as best he could. He posted a clarification quickly:

[These were rewards from a client we assisted in a dungeon expedition. That’s all.]

Unfortunately, that just made things worse.

"So your client is Mr. ’X’?"

"You’re lying. Why are you hoarding those potions?"

"Are you working with Legion too?"

No matter how many times Karl tried to explain, the crowd refused to back down. Some people demanded the name of the client, others threw wild accusations.

The mob was relentless, and before long, people were dissecting every move Team Gram had made in the past few weeks.

Speculation spread like wildfire.

Karl and the rest of the team started receiving hate mail. Their social feeds were spammed with insults.

"Scammers."

"Gatekeepers."

"Mr. ’X’ wannabes."

And then the conspiracy theories began.

People theorized that Team Gram had discovered a potion stash or were artificially driving the price up.

None of it was true, but truth didn’t matter anymore. The internet had decided.

Karl tried to weather the storm, silently bracing for more.

"We knew this might happen. This is the cost of touching something that rare. We’re still better off than we were."

He told his team during a late-night meeting.

The others nodded reluctantly. Even Tom, who was usually the most carefree, looked frustrated.

But Lys was the only one who didn’t speak. Her fingers hovered over her phone, her brows furrowed.

Later that night, unable to take the accusations anymore, she made a post on her personal account:

[The client we helped wasn’t some shadowy puppet master. He’s just a weird guy who’s obsessed with potion ingredients. He collects rare materials himself and goes dungeon diving alone half the time. Maybe instead of whining online, go out and try to bump into him.]

The post was up for less than ten minutes before it exploded.

Screenshots were shared across forums, copied and translated across languages. People began drawing conclusions fast.

"So Mr. ’X’ hunts his own ingredients?"

"He’s out there? Like in the dungeons?"

"That means... we can meet him?"

Suddenly, the narrative shifted from hate to obsession.

Discussion boards filled with speculative maps, suggesting where Mr. ’X’ might be found.

Lists of dungeon types he may frequent appeared. New groups formed with the express goal of "accidentally" encountering Mr. ’X’.

Meanwhile, in the Gram team’s base, Karl was furious.

"What were you thinking?!"

He shouted at Lys.

"I was thinking I’m tired of people calling us scammers and thieves! You weren’t doing anything to stop it!"

She snapped back.

"I was stopping it. By not making it worse."

They glared at each other until Bern, their mage, stepped in.

"It’s already out. We can’t undo it."

He said.

Karl sank into his seat and let out a long sigh.

"We just painted a target on his back."

"Not just him...Us too."

Tom added.

The room fell silent at that.

Outside their little base, the hunting community surged with new rumors.

Everyone wanted to be the one to ’accidentally’ cross paths with the elusive Mr. ’X’.

Dungeon activity spiked, especially in the mid to high-tier zones where alchemy ingredients could be found.

______

Back in his quiet home, Fenrir was completely unaware of the chaos Lys had triggered.

He packed the last of his potions and checked his gear one more time. With one foot already out the door, he looked back briefly and muttered.

"Everything’s quiet. Just the way I like it."

If only he knew before he went out the next day.

Fenrir stood still at the base of the A-class dungeon, staring at the sea of people gathered in front of it.

Dozens—no, hundreds—of adventurers swarmed the area, far more than he’d ever seen around a dungeon of this level.

Some sat on boulders, pretending to rest. Others leaned against trees, scanning the crowds.

Most were clearly trying to act casual, but Fenrir felt every pair of eyes glancing his way the moment he appeared.

A murmur rippled through the gathering.

"Is that him?"

"Could it be? Look at that coat. That’s got to be Mr. ’X’!"

"Shh! Don’t make it obvious!"

Fenrir exhaled, brow twitching slightly as he noticed more heads turning toward him.

A few adventurers even began inching closer, their gazes full of feigned nonchalance and barely disguised curiosity.

He could hear low whispers buzzing through the crowd.

He turned away and tried to walk toward the dungeon gate, but the sheer number of bodies blocking the entrance made it impossible.

Some of them stepped aside, pretending it was a coincidence, but others just stared as if waiting for something—an introduction, a confirmation, a miracle.

Just then, his comm buzzed.

[Rick: You might want to check social media before you go in.]

Fenrir paused mid-step. With a sigh, he opened the system’s social media overlay and clicked on the trending feed. The first few posts answered everything.

"Team Gram confirms receiving potions from Mr. ’X’."

"Mr. ’X’ is hunting ingredients personally? He might be in a dungeon right now!"

"Sighting at Gorgath Woods! Is he heading into the A-class dungeon there?!"

There were even low-resolution photos—somehow someone had snapped a blurry shot of him during his last trip out.

Even though his face wasn’t visible, people were convinced it was him. And now... they were all here, hoping to see him again.

Or better yet, talk to him.

Fenrir pinched the bridge of his nose.

"So this is what the outcome was, huh?"

He muttered.

He scrolled down further, seeing waves of speculative comments and more complaints about Team Gram.

The more he read, the more he regretted ever handing out those potions without conditions.

Closing the interface, he stared at the mob still pretending not to look at him.

"...I should’ve taken the back exit."