Steel Armor Shelter stood firm.
Unchanged.
Crowded.
Restless.
Hunters moved in and out.
Some injured.
Some excited.
Some empty-handed.
All chasing the same thing—
Survival.
The gate remained open.
Until—
A figure entered.
Black armor.
No sound.
No hesitation.
A presence that didn't belong to the noise around it.
Shadow.
The moment he stepped inside—
The atmosphere shifted.
Not stopped.
But lowered.
Controlled.
Whispers followed.
"…he's back…"
"…Shadow…"
"…again…"
No one approached.
No one blocked his path.
Because this identity—
Was already known.
Not clearly.
But enough.
Shadow didn't stop.
Didn't look around.
Walked straight toward the trading area.
The same stall.
The same woman.
Calm.
Observing.
Waiting.
Her eyes met the armor.
No surprise.
Only recognition.
"…you came back," she said quietly.
No response.
Shadow stood still.
Silent.
His hand moved.
The items appeared.
Pieces of Blood Fang Beast (Mutant Creature).
Fresh.
Clean.
Properly cut.
No waste.
No damage.
The quality—
Spoke for itself.
She stepped closer.
Inspected carefully.
Touch.
Weight.
Density.
Everything checked.
"…mutant level," she said.
Calm.
Certain.
A pause.
"…good quality."
Silence.
A moment of calculation.
Then—
"…one million credits."
The price remained.
Heavy.
Real.
Shadow didn't react.
No hesitation.
No negotiation.
Just acceptance.
The transaction began.
Fast.
Clean.
No tricks.
No delay.
Credits transferred.
Complete.
She looked at him again.
Longer this time.
"…you hunt mutant regularly?" she asked.
Silence.
No answer.
Because questions—
Didn't matter.
Only results did.
She didn't push further.
Didn't repeat.
Because she understood—
This was not someone who talked.
This was someone who acted.
She nodded slightly.
"…bring more."
Simple.
Direct.
An offer.
Shadow turned.
No reply.
No agreement.
But no refusal.
Because actions—
Would answer later.
He walked away.
Same pace.
Same silence.
The whispers followed.
"…Shadow…"
"…mutant hunter…"
"…one million…"
But he didn't react.
Didn't slow down.
Didn't care.
Because attention—
Was not his goal.
He exited the shelter.
Step by step.
Until—
No one remained nearby.
No eyes.
No presence.
Then—
The armor disappeared.
Black fading.
Gone.
Shadow—
No longer there.
Han Chandu remained.
Calm.
Unnoticed.
As always.
His hand moved slightly.
Feeling nothing.
Normal.
Hidden.
Safe.
That was enough.
He turned.
Walking away from the shelter.
No rush.
No delay.
Because the trade—
Was complete.
Resources gained.
No exposure.
No mistakes.
Perfect execution.
And Shadow—
Remained what he should be.
A name.
A rumor.
A presence—
That appeared…
And disappeared.
Without ever being understood.