With his familiars hard at work and his mories from a past life guiding every step, Fenrir moved smoothly through the process of brewing.
Potion-making, when stripped of shortcuts and modern conveniences, was a demanding craft—delicate, ticulous, and stubborn.
But for Fenrir, it was as natural as breathing. In his previous life, he had made everything by hand, and now, surrounded by his furry assistants and a supervising Nedrax, it almost felt nostalgic.
He stirred the final mix in the large, rune-inscribed cauldron with a slow infusion of mana, binding the different elental ingredients together. .
The mana flowed through the mixture, steady and asured, ensuring no explosions or magical backlashes this ti.
Steam rose, heavy with the scent of ash, mint, and ozone.
As the brew shimred from muddy brown to a clear, glowing silver, Fenrir knew it was ready.
He poured the potion carefully into a reinforced glass vial, sealed it with a gold-trimd cork, and examined the result.
The text that appeared in the system’s item recognition display was enough to make even his calm deanor twitch with pride.
[Elental Resistance Potion
Grade: High
Effect: Grants 50% resistance to all elental damage (Fire, Ice, Lightning, Earth, Wind, Water) for 1 hour.
Side Effects: Slight mana fatigue post-consumption.]
It was the kind of potion that could decide the outco of a high-tier dungeon raid.
A temporary armor against the elents—perfect for fragile casters, offense-heavy berserkers, or anyone going into hostile terrain.
But instead of selling it quietly through his usual channels, Fenrir made a different choice this ti.
He pulled up his anonymous Mr. ’X’ social dia account and drafted a ssage.
[Mr. X Official Post: Crafted a new potion: Elental Resistance 50%. Only one vial for now. Auction will begin tonight. Verified system listing attached.]
He uploaded the potion’s system tag, making sure that the stats and effects were publicly visible. It took less than a minute for the post to explode.
Within five minutes, his inbox was flooded with ssages, bids, and desperate pleas.
The official listing on the auction site began to climb rapidly in price, with so guilds offering rare materials or exclusive favors in exchange for priority.
Far away, in a spacious, sunlit training field surrounded by scorched earth and shattered stone, a woman wearing black and gold armor stared at her phone.
Ramie Elexie, world rank #25 and one of the most powerful S-class hunters alive, let out a high-pitched shriek that startled everyone nearby.
"FINALLY! Finally, soone heard my prayers!"
She shouted, tossing her weapon aside as she spun in circles.
"Miss Ramie?"
A junior guild mber asked nervously.
"Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?"
She asked dramatically, shoving her phone in the poor girl’s face.
" 50% elental resistance. Do you know what that ans?! No more freezing to death in frost dungeons! No more turning into a grilled steak in lava chambers!"
The girl blinked.
"...So you’ll be able to raid again?"
"Not just raid. I’ll dominate. The only reason I’m stuck at rank 25 is because my body can’t handle the extres. But with this potion? My firepower will shine. I’ll be top 15 in a week!"
Ramie said, her eyes gleaming with manic energy.
Determined, Ramie imdiately started calling contacts.
She ssaged half her guild’s finance departnt, pulled strings with black-market collectors, and even called in favors from past dungeon teammates.
"I don’t care what it costs. I want that potion."
She muttered as she paced.
Even with all the resources she gathered, the auction’s pace was terrifying. Within thirty minutes, the price had already skyrocketed past seven figures.
Ramie clenched her fists.
"Why is it so hard to get potions from Mr. ’X’? Who is this guy, hiding in the shadows like so fantasy drug dealer?"
She stared at the auction listing, heart racing.
"I should’ve found him earlier... but it doesn’t matter. I’m going all in this ti."
As she barked new orders to her staff and increased her bid again, her determination burned as hot as the fire magic she wielded.
______
Back in his lab, Fenrir watched the chaos unfold on the auction screen. With a smirk, he leaned back in his chair, potion glinting beside him.
"Looks like the world’s finally waking up."
Fenrir tapped his screen and sent out a final ssage from his Mr. X account.
[Mr. X Official Post: Auction will close in two hours. Here’s the link to place your bids. Good luck.]
The mont the ssage went live, the feed exploded.
Notifications poured in faster than he could count, and within twenty minutes, the bid on the Elental Resistance Potion had crossed ten million credits.
Guild leaders, wealthy collectors, dungeon raiders—everyone seed to want it, and they weren’t shy about it either.
What amused him more was the chaos brewing in the comnt section.
Dozens of verified accounts cursed him out in frustration.
"Why make just one potion?"
"You hoarder! People are out here dying in fla dungeons!"
"This is cruelty, not business."
"Screw you, Mr. X!"
Fenrir scrolled through them, face blank.
He didn’t care. He never claid to be a hero. If they were so desperate, they should go make their own potion—or bid higher.
With the auction spiraling out of control and half the platform screaming for more, Fenrir shut off the feed and leaned back.
He had more important things to do.
Now that his herb supply had stabilized and his dungeon was functioning efficiently with the help of his familiars, Fenrir figured it was ti to take on a real challenge.
A potion he had put off until now because of its complexity.
The Rejuvenation Potion.
It didn’t heal like a recovery potion, nor did it temporarily boost like a strength or stamina potion.
Instead, it strengthened the user’s constitution itself—making brittle bones denser, organs sturdier, muscles more durable.
It was the perfect match for soone like him: a fragile genius with too much power and too little endurance.
But crafting it was another story.
Fenrir bit his lip as he stared at the process list.
The potion required not just perfect timing and high-tier ingredients—it demanded precision mana control on a scale he wasn’t sure he could manage yet.
Every stir of the cauldron needed to be guided by mana so fine that even the slightest disruption would ruin the brew or, worse, cause a backfire.
Still, he had co far in his training. Maybe... maybe he could do it.
He opened his inventory and scanned through the ingredients.
Then he stopped.
Two key ingredients were missing. Not just any materials, but rare ones.
A Leech’s Bloom, a parasitic flower that only grew on the backs of high-tier dungeon monsters.
And a Shadowguard’s Fang, a defensive organ from a stealth-type beast found only in darkness-classified ruins.
Fenrir stared at the list, clicking his tongue.
"Of course it wouldn’t be easy."
But then again, if it were easy, it wouldn’t be worth doing.
He leaned back in his chair, staring at the missing ingredients with narrowed eyes. He would have to go on a hunt, or find soone crazy enough to do it for him.
Either way, this potion wasn’t going to make itself. Fenrir cracked his knuckles.
"Alright then. Let’s get to work."
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