— Present
Zander's boots crunched on shattered glass as he navigated the skeletal remains of the abandoned subway tunnels. Ahead, the entrance to Sector 9-B's dungeon shimmered – a blue portal the size of a subway car, its surface rippling like liquid mercury, a clear sign of a D-Rank dungeon with a mana purity of roughly 40%. The air hung thick with the metallic tang of ozone and the damp scent of wet concrete, the silence broken only by the crunch of his steps and the low hum of the portal. Graffiti warnings, hastily sprayed on the grimy walls, served as grim reminders: "D-RANK MAX – NO SOLO RUNS – REPORT CORRUPTION IMMEDIATELY."
His thumb worried the fake C-Rank badge pinned to his chest, his mind a whirlwind of calculations. Fifteen thousand Nova Credits. Enough to cover three months' rent in the stinking slums, or to finally afford a decent F-Rank healing potion. Hell, it was ten times what those Talentless drones in the Tower Districts earned in a month scrubbing toilets. A bitter taste rose in his throat as he recalled last week's hospital bill – five hundred precious credits just to stitch up a gut wound from that botched pawnshop heist.
A rusted sign creaked in the stagnant air: "D-Rank Dungeon Gamma-9 – Kobold/Goblin Nest – Moderate Color(Blue). Mandatory Party: 1 C-Rank + 2 D-Ranks." Zander snorted softly. The whole damn system was rigged, with Nova Credits oiling every cog. A token for a public bath? Fifty credits. A real, actual meal? Two hundred. And Awakeners like Kael Veyra? They probably got bonus credits just for breathing.
"Lucky shit..." The words escaped his lips as a silent curse.
He paused, adjusting the cheap plastic of his toy pistol, the cold emanations from the portal making his stolen armor clink like loose change. Tonight's haul would finally elevate him from a diet of ramen to something resembling steak.
The designated meeting spot reeked of rust and decay. Sector 9-B's dungeon entrance pulsed with an eerie blue light in the grimy wall of the abandoned station. Zander leaned against a vandalized vending machine, his gaze sharp as he scanned for his ticket out of the gutter.
After a tense couple of minutes, three figures finally emerged from the gloom.
"Bastards, what took you so long..." Zander muttered under his breath, a knot of impatience tightening in his chest.
First came the client, Kael Veyra. The kid couldn't have been older than sixteen, practically swimming in oversized armor that clanked awkwardly with each hesitant step. Nervous sparks flickered around his outstretched fingers, untamed lightning crackling like faulty wiring and occasionally zapping his own sleeve.
"You… uh… the escort?" Kael stammered, trying and failing to project an air of confidence. His voice cracked mid-sentence like a dropped ceramic plate.
Zander snapped off a crisp salute, channeling every cheesy war holo-drama he'd ever binged. "Captain Voss, at your service, kid. Heard you fry Voidlings for breakfast."
Kael puffed out his chest, a flush creeping up his neck. "I-I zapped a mutated wolf last week! Solo!"
"Solo?" a voice drawled from the deeper shadows.
Two women stepped into the dim light – D-Rank mercenaries, their movements fluid and assured. The taller one had a well-maintained rifle slung across her back; the shorter wore sturdy gloves from which wickedly sharp, thorny vines sprouted and retracted with subtle shifts of her fingers.
"Lyra," the sniper said, with a curt nod towards her partner. "That's Tessa. We handle the messy stuff. Try not to piss your pants, Captain." Her tone dripped with sarcasm, the emphasis on his assumed rank a deliberate jab.
Woah! That was absolutely cringe... How can beauty like them say something so embarrassing? The thought flashed through Zander's mind, a momentary flicker of genuine surprise. He quickly shoved it down. Hypocrisy was practically his middle name.
Instead, a wide, disarming grin spread across his face. "Only if you don't hog all the fun."
The portal hummed with contained energy as the group finally converged. Lyra stepped forward, slapping a handheld scanner against its shimmering surface. Holographic text flickered red in the dim light:
D-RANK CONFIRMED THREAT LEVEL: MODERATE CORE TYPE: KOBOLD SHAMAN (MANA PURITY: 40%)