Chương 55: LF>Party

"So, how about it, Guild Master?" Delilah extended her hand.

"Welcome to the team." Gray clasped it. Gray Kim has formed a party with Delilah Hall.

"I need to fill the remaining slots quickly," Gray said.

"We don't have much time."

"Well, have your pick." Delilah swept a hand toward the pub's crowded hall. Gray nodded and moved among the waiting participants. They occupied the round tables in restless clusters, conversations fading whenever he drew near. A man with a large, white-tinted composite bow strapped across his back, reminiscient to bone, gave him an eager wave. Definitely not you. Gray checked the rankings of several candidates as he passed. Most hovered between the low 500s and mid-600s. Then he spotted an outlier.

The man sat with his back to the room, seemingly indifferent to the frantic party-building around him. He was busy guzzling from a bottle of Jonathon Runner: The Purple Label whiskey between spitting mouthfuls of sandy grit onto the floor. His rank caught Gray's attention first. His build sealed the deal. Standard silver plate armor encased a massive frame, the scuffed metal adding even more bulk to his already broad shoulders.

A heavy greatsword rested across his back, its hilt thick enough that Gray doubted he could comfortably wrap both hands around it. A frontline tank. Perfect. Name: Andre White Class: Apex Knight Level: 5 Rank: Awakened Ladder Rank: 312 Gray tapped the knight's shoulder plate. Andre turned with his cheeks puffed out and immediately raised one finger. Before Gray could ask why, Andre leaned aside and spat a mouthful of wet sand beside his boots. Gray hopped back.

"Whoa." Andre's eyes widened.

"I am so sorry!" He nearly tumbled off the barstool in his haste to crouch beside Gray's feet. Before Gray could stop him, Andre began brushing flecks of grit from his shoes.

"Looks like some of the sand mixed into that bloodstain on your shoe," Andre muttered, inspecting the damage with genuine concern.

"I know somebody who can clean that right out."

"It's fine. You're good." Gray crouched and caught Andre by his thick forearms, hauling him back to his feet. Or at least attempting to. The knight did most of the work himself, rising until Gray had to tilt his head back to meet his eyes. Andre was dark-skinned, with thick dreadlocks pulled away from his face and falling to his broad shoulders. Up close, he looked even larger than his armor had suggested.

"Have you found a party yet?" Gray asked.

"If not, how about joining mine?" A collective groan rolled through the hall behind him. Gray glanced over his shoulder. The remaining participants had apparently realized their odds of being recruited had just plummeted. Chairs scraped against the floor as people abandoned any hope of being chosen and hurried to form groups of their own. Andre, meanwhile, looked genuinely puzzled.

"For this level?" He scratched the back of his neck, his gauntlet rasping against the edge of his armor.

"Honestly, I was thinking about dropping out of the race. There's no way someone like me can make it past the threshold anymore." His gaze dipped toward the whiskey bottle.

"Why risk my life for it?"

"Well, then." Delilah appeared behind Gray, leaning slightly to look around him.

"How about giving it one last shot, big boy?"

"I don't know…" Andre folded his armored arms, though the gesture looked more uncertain than defensive.

"Aren't you only picking me because I'd make a good frontline damage sponge?" Delilah's mouth twitched. Andre frowned.

"Am I walking straight to my grave? Because if I am, I'd rather take my chances with the whole servant thing." Gray stepped beside him and reached up to rest a hand on the knight's pauldron.

"Listen. I've been in your position before, and I know how it feels." Gray held his gaze.

"I chose you because a sturdy melee fighter is one of the most important parts of a party, second only to a healer. I need someone who can hold the line when everything goes wrong." Andre's expression remained guarded, but he was listening.

"And if you join me," Gray continued, tightening his grip on the pauldron, "I won't let you die on my watch." For a moment, Andre said nothing. The uncertainty in his face slowly gave way to resolve. Then he exhaled sharply and nodded.

"Okay… okay." A nervous grin broke through.

"I'll be in your care, then." He extended his hand. Gray Kim has formed a party with Andre White.

"It's unfortunate there aren't any healers in this pub," Delilah said, scanning the crowded hall.

"But I spoke with a few participants earlier. That mage over there specializes in spatial magic. I think he'd make a fantastic addition to the team." She pointed across the room. The mage was deep in conversation with another participant, a long staff resting against one shoulder. A violet orb crowned the weapon, framed in white metal and encircled by a thin ring reminiscent of Saturn. Yet, the flashiest thing about him wasn't the weapon, but rather the comically oversized purple wizard hat perched on his head.

Delilah crossed the pub and exchanged a few words with him before returning with the mage in tow.

"This is Richard," she said.

"Richard, meet Gray, our guild leader." Richard stopped short. His gaze traveled over Gray, and his upper lip curled.

"Guild Leader? This child?" He stroked his chin, studying Gray more carefully. Recognition flickered in his narrowed eyes.

"Although… you are ranked within the top hundred." His expression shifted from disgust to smug consideration.

"Boy, why don't you let me lead the group instead?" Richard raised a finger.

"It would be better to have an adult figure in charge, you know." Gray turned and walked away before the man could finish. Andre fell into step beside him, casting Richard a dark look over his shoulder. Delilah lingered for a moment, raked a hand through her hair, then followed with an exhausted sigh. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

"Hey! I wasn't finished talking! You—" Richard shouted after them. Gray tuned him out. Someone with an ego that large would only cause problems, but Richard wasn't the sole reason Gray had walked away. His attention had already shifted to the shaggy-haired boy he had noticed earlier, sitting alone on the floor in a quiet corner of the pub. The boy was hunched over a machine balanced across his knees. Four folded propellers extended from its angular chassis, while three cylindrical tubes protruded beneath the frame.

Small panels had been removed from its housing, exposing an intricate nest of wiring and unfamiliar components. It looked like a drone straight from the future. Gray approached with Delilah and Andre behind him.

"How did you manage to bring a drone into this world?" The boy jerked in surprise. A tiny component broke loose between his fingers and bounced across the wooden floor. Gray winced.

"Oh, man. My bad. Sorry for startling you."

"It's okay." The boy retrieved the broken piece and examined it through his crooked glasses.

"It's my fault for not paying attention to my surroundings." His voice was quiet, though he seemed more embarrassed than upset. Identify Name: Eugene Whitaker Class: Machina Level: 5 Rank: Awakened Ladder Rank: 312 Gray paused after reading his class.

"I feel like I've heard of that class before…" He tapped a finger against his chin, then nodded toward the machine.

"Is the drone some kind of summon? Do you fight using technology?" Eugene tucked the device carefully beneath one arm and climbed to his feet. He was around Gray's age, though his slouched posture made him seem smaller. Shaggy hair hung over the rims of his glasses, which immediately began sliding down his nose.

"Essentially, yes," Eugene replied, pushing them back into place.

"Although I primarily use my drone for utility rather than direct combat."

"That's awesome. So you're basically a scout?" A faint smile appeared on Eugene's face.

"I suppose you could call it that."

"Perfect. You're in." Gray extended his hand. Eugene stared at it. Then he looked at Gray.

"Me?" His eyes widened behind his glasses.

"In the party? Are you sure?"

"Give us one moment, please," Delilah said. She hooked an arm around Gray's shoulders and steered him aside, lowering her voice.

"Having a scout is useful and all, but wouldn't we be better off recruiting someone with a little more firepower instead of a support class who can't heal?"

"I think we're doing pretty well in the firepower department." Gray flashed her a pair of finger guns.

"Besides…" His grin widened.

"I've always wanted to fly a drone." Delilah stared at him, utterly deadpan.

"That's the real reason, ain't it?" She released him with a long, defeated sigh. He turned back to Eugene.

"So, how about it? Want to join our group?" Eugene glanced between the three of them, still clutching his drone beneath one arm.

"S-Sure!" After cutting down what felt like an endless number of Granite Soldiers, Nabi was finally teleported into the safe zone. She materialized in a dim hall washed in the glow of neon signs shaped like microphones. Red, blue, and violet light bled across the dark walls and polished floor, and muffled K-pop and ballads drifted through several closed doors, accompanied by the occasional thump of bass. Directly ahead stood a fully stocked bar, rows of bottles gleaming beneath strips of colored light.

A karaoke bar. Several participants were packed into one corner of the main room, sitting shoulder to shoulder and speaking in hushed voices. Every few seconds, someone cast a nervous glance toward two figures conversing on the opposite side of the hall. Shota and Gwen. Shota noticed Nabi almost immediately. His head turned sharply in her direction, and a bright smile spread across his face as he lifted a hand in greeting. Gwen followed his gaze. The moment she spotted Nabi, her expression soured.

She gave a dismissive scoff and turned back to Shota as though Nabi hadn't entered at all. Nabi looked from the pair to the nervous group nearby.

"Are those two nobles avoiding you because they don't want to breathe the same air as commoners?" She asked, jerking a thumb over her shoulder.

"Quite the opposite, actually," replied a short, heavyset man. He leaned closer, keeping his voice low.

"We're the ones avoiding them. Nobody wants to risk offending either of them—or their families."

"Yeah, I get it." Nabi planted her hands on her hips. Then, deliberately raising her voice enough to carry across the room, she added, "Nobles are stuck-up pieces of shit." The man went rigid. His eyes slowly shifted toward a point just beyond Nabi's shoulder. Nabi noticed and kept going anyway.

"Seriously, where do they get off thinking they're better than everyone else?" she continued.

"Being born into money shouldn't automatically make someone more important than people who weren't. I'm sick of 'em."

"Me too!" a cheerful voice declared directly behind her. Nabi spun around. Shota stood there with a smile.

"Oh?" Nabi arched a brow and folded her arms.

"You heard all that?"

"Difficult not to." Shota glanced around the room.

"The acoustics of this sinful establishment carry your voice remarkably well." Nabi's expression flattened.

"What do you want?" Shota extended a hand.

"You." Her eyes narrowed into slits. He continued before she could respond.

"I'm aware there's some tension between you and Gwen, but I'm confident we can set our differences aside for the sake of clearing this level. With the three of us in one party, we would eclipse every other guild here and secure our positions on the ladder." Nabi didn't take his hand. Instead, she tilted her head to look past his shoulder. Across the room, Gwen stood with her arms crossed tightly over her chest, one foot tapping against the floor in a steady rhythm. Even from a distance, her impatience was obvious.

Nabi met her stare for a moment before looking back at Shota.

"Has she agreed to this?" For the first time, Shota's confidence faltered. His extended hand lowered slightly as a flicker of hesitation crossed his face.

"I wouldn't use the word agreed," he admitted.

"More like… convinced." Nabi let out a sharp sigh.

"Fine. Let's do it." She took Shota's hand. Shota Kotetsu has formed a party with Nabi Yoon.

"Excellent." Shota tapped his chin, already scanning the room.

"Now we need a fourth." His attention settled on the participants huddled in the corner. The moment they realized he was looking their way, every one of them lowered their eyes, suddenly fascinated by the floorboards.

"You will suffice." Shota pointed to the heavyset man beside Nabi. The man stiffened.

"M-Me? I don't think that's a good idea." Shota exhaled through his nose.

"We are out of time, and I would rather not resort to this." He stepped forward and extended his hand.

"However, if you decline my offer, my family and I will make your life a living hell once we're out of here. Do you understand?"

"Y-Yes! Yes, sir, I understand!" The man lurched into a frantic bow and seized Shota's hand with both of his own.

"Fantastic." Nabi stared at him, unimpressed.

"Is forcing people's hands part of your usual repertoire?"

"Not normally, no." Shota held up one hand and mimed chopping through his opposite wrist.

"If I were truly forcing someone's hand, I would simply threaten to sever it." Nabi's expression remained flat.

"How creative." Before Shota could respond, a notification appeared before them. The final level begins in… 5 4 3 2 1… The pub vanished. A rush of cool air replaced the stale smell of alcohol as the party materialized in a tight cluster beneath a dense forest canopy. Before anyone could get their bearings, the air above them split open with a sharp crack. A rift flickered into existence and expelled a teal, diamond-shaped crystal.

A thick steel band encircled its center, with four tapered metal arms extending from either side like sharpened prongs. Shota caught the crystal against his chest and drove its lower point into the earth. The steel casing around the crystal unfolded and expanded, sections locking together with a rapid series of metallic clacks. Brick-like plates assembled themselves into a hexagonal enclosure around the pylon, rising until the walls stood roughly three feet high. One side remained open as an entrance.

No roof formed, and the teal crystal remained fully exposed to the sky. Shota frowned up at the opening.

"That's concerning. We'll definitely need someone guarding this for now." Nabi raised a hand with little enthusiasm.

"I'll do it." Shota snapped his attention to her.

"Sounds like a plan. Would you like our new friend to assist you?" He glanced toward the heavyset man. Nabi dismissed the suggestion with a flick of her wrist.

"Does it look like I need help?" A quiet laugh escaped Shota.

"I suppose not. I'll still allocate thirty percent of the points to you, even if all you do is stand guard." The heavyset man hesitantly raised a finger.

"Does that mean I get ten percent, sir?"

"Yes." Shota looked him up and down.

"Do you have an issue with that? I consider ten percent more than fair for a stand-in sitting at rank 312."

"No, sir! That's extremely generous." The man shook his head quickly.

"I was only confirming." Nabi leaned over the low wall and peered at the glowing crystal. Its teal light reflected faintly across her face.

"So if this thing shatters," she said, narrowing her eyes at it, "the entire party fails the level?"

"Obviously," Gwen snapped.

"So you'd better guard it with your life." Nabi's jaw tightened. Then she turned toward Gwen with an unnaturally bright smile.

"Sure thing, Gwen." Shota clapped his hands once.

"Alright. Let's head out." The trio sprinted into the forest, disappearing between the thick trunks and tangled undergrowth. Branches snapped beneath their feet as they pushed deeper into the woods, putting roughly a quarter mile between themselves and the base. A creeping suspicion twisted Gwen's stomach and she glanced over her shoulder. Far behind them, Nabi stood beside the pylon with her scythe raised high above her head. Gwen's eyes widened. Nabi swung.

The scythe crashed into the exposed crystal with a violent crack.

"You bitch!" Gwen roared. Your party has been eliminated.