The main hall of the Terra Nova Adventurers’ Guild was a chaotic sea of shouting, armor clinking, and parchment contracts being slammed onto heavy oak tables. Upgrading to C-Rankhad thrust Apex Squad into the single most crowded demographic in the entire city—a bloated middle tier where over eight thousand adventurers constantly fought for recognition, survival, and a spot on expedition airships.
Alister stood near the recruitment board, his eyes scanning the crowd of fellow newly promoted C-Rank hopefuls who were all scrambling to form reliable four-man squads.
“Looking for a vanguard?”
A young warrior stepped up to the board. He was broad-shouldered for his age, wearing a polished iron chestplate, a sturdy steel kite shield strapped to his left arm, and a single-edged hand axe resting on his hip. He was seventeen, having just made C-Rank alongside them, carrying himself with the disciplined stance of a northern shield-bearer.
“Name's Greyfjorn,” the teen introduced himself, extending a leather-wrapped forearm. “Seventeen. Vanguard spec. You can call me Grey. I hold the line, draw aggression, and absorb shockwaves. What’s the contract?”
“Apex Squad. C-Rank sector run,” Alister replied, shaking Grey's arm. “I'm Alister. Speed-mage.”
Before they could finalize the draft, a taller, heavily muscled young man who had just cleared his C-Rank evaluation stepped up, leaning against the pillar beside them. His forearms were wrapped in thick leather, reinforced by heavy steel knuckles that looked built to crush stone. Iron kneepads and thick metal shin guards protected his legs, giving him the look of an unsanctioned brawler.
“Need an extra pair of fists?” he asked, cracking his knuckles with a dull thud. “Okram. Twenty-two. Frontline striker—kickboxing and close-quarters force application. If Grey stops 'em, I break 'em.”
Alister glanced between the iron-clad Viking and the steel-knuckled kickboxer. “Everything is set. Registration is locked for tomorrow morning.”
While Alister handled squad logistics, Trevor was navigating the lower levels of the Guild Shop. Heavy iron lanterns illuminated rows of glass display cases housing enchanted weaponry, elemental talismans, and high-tier defensive gear.
Trevor walked past the display cases, his pupils imperceptibly dilating as Eelon’s optical HUD projected an overlay over every item within line of sight, scanning mana signatures and calculating practical defensive values.
[ITEM SCAN: Winged Boots (EPIC GRADE)]
Effect: +200% Leap and Dash Speed
Price: 200,000 Terra Coins
Trevor exhaled slowly, watching the glowing red tag. Two hundred thousand. Way out of budget.
He kept walking, letting Eelon filter through the lower-priced racks.
[MATCH FOUND: Boots of Swift Strides: [UNCOMMON GRADE)]
Effect: +50% Leap and +50% Dash Speed
Price: 2,400 Terra Coins
That'll work, Trevor thought. It wasn't the absurd +200% exponential multiplier of the Epic grade, but for a speed-mage like Alister who relied on footwork to line up chantless spells, a flat +50% agility multiplier was massive. Trevor flagged the item and paid the shopkeeper 2,400 Terra Coins on the spot.
He continued browsing the defensive shelves, searching specifically for dark magic mitigation. Corrupt Guild factions and black-market enforcers almost exclusively relied on curse marks and shadow-based magic.
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A faint blue diagnostic wheel spun in the corner of his field of vision before expanding into a detailed breakdown:
=========================================
TACTICAL DIAGNOSTIC: ELEMENTAL MATRIX
=========================================
Physical Resistance : 80%
Fire Resistance : 0%
Cold Resistance : 20%
Lightning Resistance : -20%
Poison Resistance : 100%
Wind Resistance : 60%
Earth Resistance : 20%
Water Resistance : 40%
Dark Resistance : 0%
Divine Resistance : --
=========================================
“Divine Resistance is unlisted. Explain.”
(Notice: Divine and Holy-attribute magic operate strictly on biological-soul resonance, targeting undead and dark entities,) Eelon’s synthetic voice resonated quietly inside his audio cortex. (As a half-machine, half-human hybrid, divine magic passes through your bio-mechanical framework without effect. It cannot harm you, but it also cannot provide divine restoration or healing.)
“That sucks,” Trevor muttered. “I can't be patched up by a Priest's holy spell if my arm gets torn off, and my lightning resistance is sitting at minus twenty percent. High-voltage current will fry my internal parts.”
(Recommendation,) Eelon advised. (Prioritize acquiring specialized insulation plating to cap Lightning Resistance at 100%. Combined with your native 100% Poison immunity and 80% Physical mitigation, you will possess absolute immunity across three major damage vectors.)
Trevor rubbed the back of his neck, staring at his reflection in the display glass. “Fuck this life... I'm still weak.”
Later that evening in their hotel room, Trevor threw the wrapped package onto Alister’s bed. This chapter was taken from g.com without permission.
Alister unboxed the boots, his eyes widening slightly as he inspected the runic threading along the soles. “Boots of Swift Strides... +50% Leap and Dash?” He looked up at Trevor, immediately pulling out a pouch of coins containing his exact share from their split quest earnings and sliding it across the table. “My half. We split the cost, always.”
Trevor quietly scooped the coins back into his pouch, restoring his balance back to its proper ledger without arguing. “Just make sure you don't break your ankles when you move.”
The following morning at 7:00 AM, the sky above the Grand Port was obscured by massive, iron-ribbed sector airships.
The air was deafening. Thousands of adventurers shouted over the hum of massive mana-propulsion engines. Sector expeditions were the bloodline of C-Rank progression: roughly 7,800 active C-Rank adventurers were participating in today's drop, making it the most jam-packed, hyper-competitive rank in the guild system.
Trevor, Alister, Grey, and Okram stood near the boarding ramp of Vessel 04. Grey adjusted his heavy steel shield, while Okram tightened the thick leather straps wrapping his knuckles and shin guards.
At the edge of the flight deck, an Expedition Master amplified his voice with a wind-horn:
“Attention all C-Rank squads! You know the rules! Four sub-regions are open for drop today! Sector camps are fortified, and scheduled flights back to Terra Nova run at 8:00 AM, 12:00 PM, and 4:00 PM! If you miss the four o'clock transport, you spend the night in the sector! Do not get left behind!”
A large glowing map projected over the deck, detailing the four designated danger zones:
Goblin Region
Boark Region
Bobcat Region
Kokuryu Region
Trevor tilted his head slightly, speaking low so only his internal mic picked it up. “Eelon. What are Boark and Kokuryu?”
(Data Retrieval: Boark,) Eelon reported silently. (A sub-species related to Orcs. Average height: 4 feet. High density, stocky build. Capable of low-tier novice spellcasting.)
(Data Retrieval: Kokuryu,) Eelon continued. (Biological avian species. Morphologically resembles a large, hyper-aggressive wild creature with razor-sharp talons, heavy scales, and deadly instinctual hunting behaviors.)
Trevor studied the tactical map. “Are the Bobcats bipedal as well?”
(Affirmative,) Eelon confirmed. (Bipedal feline predators. Extremely aggressive. Known to consume humans, elves, and dwarves indiscriminately.)
Trevor turned toward Alister, who was staring intently at the projection board. “Alister. Which region are we dropping into?”
Alister didn't hesitate, his grip tightening around his wand. “We go straight to the most difficult one. The Kokuryu Region.”
Grey adjusted his heavy steel shield with a confident grin. “Works for me. Let's see how well these beasts handle a shield wall.”
“If they like close-quarters martial arts, they're going to love my knuckles,” Okram grunted, cracking his fists as he adjusted his shin guards.
Trevor quietly checked the sidearm beneath his coat, his HUD locking onto the orange-marked terrain of the Kokuryu drop zone. “Set your positions. We drop in three.” end of chapter