“Let’s see…” Alan muttered, examining a map of the Eurola region. “A blimp can’t take me all the way to Unus Town… So I’d have to buy a ticket to Flymouth, and then walk for a day from there. Is that correct?”

“That is correct, sir,” the male NPC beside him responded. “Would you like to buy a ticket?”

“Yes, please…”

The NPC generated a system window for Alan to interact with, requesting 100 gold. There goes all my money.

“All set. Just take the nearest elevator, and you will be able to board the blimp on platform two, sir.” The NPC paused to inspect Alan from head to toe. “By the way, you don’t need to walk around in wet clothes. You can set them to dry.”

Alan’s cheeks reddened. “Oh! I didn’t know that…”

“Would you like me to help you with that?”

“No, thanks. I’ll figure it out myself.”

“Alright, then. Have a nice day.”

As the NPC walked away, Alan surveyed the empty station. Despite today’s chaos, it didn't seem like people were rushing to leave this city… Perhaps most citizens have flying mounts and vehicles. He sighed. At least this place is still operational for losers like me.

His steps echoed through the vast halls of the Manafloo Station as he passed shuttered food outlets. He accessed his clothes’ information in his Inventory window and selected the ‘Dry’ option, immediately feeling his pants and jacket lighten and warm.

My Beginner’s set doesn't have this feature; this outfit must be super expensive. Thanks, Astrid.

He waited until he was inside the elevator before thumping his forehead against the automatic doors.

Oh, man, that was embarrassing!

With a soothing bell chime, the elevator announced his arrival at Platform #2, but his gaze upon the area was filled with discomfort. There, ten other Users awaited the blimp, frowning at his low number overhead. He ignored them, contemplating a bird's-eye view of the rainy city.

This is for the best. I know it.

He closed his eyes, trying to suppress the inner voices urging him to return to the Shooting Stars HQ. His imagination even conjured a scene where he embraced Astrid and declared his indifference to the fate of The Santa María. Deep down, he longed to tell Isabella II to find another fool for the job, and to confess to Isabella I that a peaceful life with Astrid outweighed the safety of the entire ship's crew.

But I’d be lying to myself…

An electronic voice announced, “Express blimp bound for Flymouth now arriving at platform two. For your safety, please stand behind the yellow line.”

That’s right… He chuckled ruefully as the yellow aircraft's doors opened with a beep. It doesn’t matter what I want. Not until everyone is safe.

Until then…

He stepped forward absently, not noticing the high heels clicking behind him. He let other passengers board first, unaware of the mechanical beetle detaching from his clothes, falling to the floor, and combusting.

Inside, he disregarded the stares of other passengers and sought the most secluded seat available.

This is for the best, he thought, watching the relentless rain pelt the porthole.

The sound of high heels approached again. “Is this seat taken?” a woman inquired.

“No,” he replied quietly, sensing the fragrance of strawberries as someone sat beside him.

Alan leaned his forehead against the porthole’s glass and sighed. Everything’s going to be alright. I’m sure of it. Even though I lack the resources or—wait…

Alan turned to his left to see a familiar redhead, arms crossed. “Amelia?” he asked wearily. “What are you doing here?”

“Me? I’m on a vacation. You?”

“Vacation?” He shook his head. “This blimp’s heading to Flymouth… I don’t think you’ll—”

“Good! Just what I needed.” She chuckled. “A tranquil, low-level zone. Far from the city's noise… And the annoying chatter of petulant guilders.”

“You’re kidding, right? Yesterday, you were celebrating with your new guild.” He tilted his head. “Unless you’re quitting Death Bringers too.”

“I’m technically not even a member yet. There's a 48-hour restriction to join another guild, you know? So, I’m free to roam as I please.” She suddenly groaned. “I’m kind of burnt out from all this guild drama, you know? A break from it all would be nice.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “But you’re a max-level User. Wouldn’t a vacation halt your progress?”

Amelia sighed, clearly annoyed. “Not everyone obsesses over their ranking, Ghost.”

He considered this for a moment before sneering. “If this trip to Londorus has taught me anything, it’s that power is everything here.”

Amelia stared at him as he gazed out the porthole, the light from the Novus’ sunset casting a warm glow on his melancholic face.

“What about you, Ghost?” she asked gently. “Are you leaving Shooting Stars?”

“Yes…”

“Bummer.”

Alan sat in silence for a second before springing from his seat, startling her. “Wait! There’s still something we need to discuss! What did you mean by ‘I may have overheard your conversation with Marco’?”

“Seriously, lower your voice,” she whispered, eyeing the other curious passengers. “I won’t hide it, okay? So, yes, that’s exactly what happened.”

“But why would you do that?! Did Marco—”

“Don’t even finish that sentence! I did it on my own, okay? You were acting pretty suspicious and weird yesterday, so it was natural for me to feel curious about it. Curiosity is a sign that I’m a healthy woman, you know.”

“Forget what I said earlier about you being a cool gal! You’re the devil incarnate!”

“Hey, you can’t take that back! And maybe that’s not too far from the truth…”

“Oh, for the love of everything holy!” Alan exclaimed, bending forward and clutching his hair. “How much did you hear?”

“Everything. You’re looking for a ‘Digital Boogeyman’, right? Did I get that right?”

Alan’s face flushed a deeper shade of red. He wanted to shout, to vent his frustration at this meddling woman. But then he remembered her actions just hours before.

While Marco mocked and belittled the situation, this woman stood up for me. But…

“What do you plan to do with that information?” he asked sternly, lifting his head. If she was pretending, he would catch her cracking a smile or bursting into laughter. But she looked at him expectantly.

“It depends. How critical is the situation?” She leaned in closer. “Is this spaceship really in danger?”

“What if I told you that we’d have to venture into the deepest layers of hell to complete this mission?”

“Hell? That won’t be a problem.” She smirked, straightening up. “You’re talking to Amelia Laflamme, The Hell Princess, remember?”

“Y-Yeah…”

“So! Are we partners then?” She beamed, extending her hand to him, but he eyed it warily, half-expecting it to burst into flames.

“But why? I thought you hated me.”

“Are you really rejecting the only person willing to help you in this entire world? The help of a Max-Leveler, no less!”

“I’m not alone.” He looked away. “I have an ally waiting for me at the Renovatio Caves.”

“Our first destination is settled, then!” she grinned, motioning to an NPC selling snacks to come over. “Do you want some candy? My treat.”

This… reeks… Alan thought, narrowing his eyes at the smiling woman.

After an hour-long ride, when the blimp arrived at Flymouth, Amelia wasted no time summoning her flying mount outside the station. A massive winged tiger then glanced at Alan as if he were dinner.

“See? This is one of the many benefits of hanging out with a Max-Leveler! You won’t have to walk all the way to the Renovatio Caves.”

“That’s cool, but hold on…”

She ignored him, engaging her User Interface.

“Sorry!” she said, picking up her pilot goggles. “I didn’t ask if you wanted to tour Flymouth first. Should we grab a bite before taking off?”

“Good idea!” He beamed, turning around. “Why don’t you grab something to eat while I look for a bathroom, okay? I haven’t been able to go since this nightmare began! Let’s meet here in… 15 minutes? Got it? Got it!”

Amelia watched his awkward departure in silence as he hurried away. She then sighed. “Charlotte?” she whispered to her pet. “This guy seems like a really comfy pillow, don’t you think?”

“What?!” Alan heard loud footsteps just before the 1,000-pound cat pounced, pinning him to the ground. “Hey, let go! Come on!”

“Look! My cat caught an escaping little mouse,” Amelia taunted from atop her beast. “Oh, now I see why you have that surname!”

“Cut the crap, Death Bringer!” Alan yelled. “I know that Marco or that Kathleen loli sent you!”

“I already told you that I’m not—”

“Do you want to help ME?! Don’t make me laugh! After defending your dear Lord’s honor the other night by killing me a bazillion times, you come here all sunshine and rainbows, admitting to spying on me as if it were no big deal, and now you suddenly want to act all altruistic?! Do you think I’m THAT stupid?!”

“Well, I wouldn’t say—” She shook her head. “Oh, please, Ghost! You trusted my sister yesterday but can’t trust me? I’m a Laflamme too, you know? Trustworthy gals!”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“You had to mention that brat…”

“Excuse me?”

Whoops… Don’t push it too much, Alan.

“W-W-What I’m trying to say is that it’s not up to me to share ‘you know what’ with you just yet! This is something I have to discuss with my partner at the Renovatio Caves first!”

“Fine! Have your talk with them first, whatever. But do you seriously intend to travel around 100 miles on foot? Since you’re backtracking toward a low-level zone, you’ll surely encounter many level 20 monsters along the way. Have you considered that?” She smirked, observing his now flustered face. “I knew it. Let me give you a ride there, then. Who knows, I might change your mind on the road.”

“Do I have a choice?” he said through clenched teeth, as the tiger licked his cheek.

“You don’t! Blame your own fragility!” She giggled. “Now, before we go, there are a few guidelines one must follow while flying on mounts that—”

“I know them well: Don’t grope, don’t puke, don’t fall.”

She blinked at him, curious. “It’s obvious you shouldn’t fall, and I’d appreciate it if you could avoid puking on my clothes or my dear Charlotte, but what’s the fun in having a wingman if there can’t be some ‘accidental’ groping while riding? Some air currents could throw you off if you don’t hold—me—tight.”

“HUH?!” Alan’s annoyance quickly turned into bewilderment as he admired her grin.

Is this the same girl that hated my guts just two days ago?

+ + + + +

+ + + +

+ + +

+ +

+

On the north of the Aerola region, there is an archipelago called Icebard. Here, where anyone below Vitality Silver rank freezes instantly, ice creatures roam, endowed with high defense and magic capacity. It’s the perfect training ground for everyone level 50 and up.

At the heart of its many islands resides a monster that even those of level 90 hesitate to confront: The Raid Boss, Jötnarkungen. A mountain-sized, turtle-like golem encased in a thick layer of ice. Swords and arrows are futile against it, necessitating the inclusion of Pyromancers in any raid attempt to weaken its belly and expose its mineral core.

If Users aren’t crushed by its colossal legs or by its horde of Elemental minions guarding its back, Jötnarkungen’s freezing aura and icy breath will finish them off.

“Why would anyone challenge such a monster, you ask? Well, because its rewards, though not unique, are abundant compared to other Raid Bosses!” the female Pyromancer leading a expedition proclaimed as she climbed the snowy hill, the boss visible in the distance. “Living Iron, Arcanium, Diamonite, Gold, you name it! That thing is loaded! Even if you don’t manage to kill it, you can harvest a good chunk of its natural treasures by blowing off a piece. But we didn’t come here just for scraps, right, guys?”

“No, we’re here for everything it has!”

“Are we here to kill it, my sisters?!”

“We’re here to exterminate it!”

“Who are we?!”

“The Storm Crusaders!”

“You’re goddamn right!” the mage shouted. She then salivated at the prospect of obtaining a perfect grade Fire Platinum Staff before donning her magic glasses, which revealed the creature’s stats.

Jötnarkungen

LEVEL

180

MONSTER CLASSIFICATION

ELEMENTAL

BATTLE TYPE

ICEBERG

VITALITY

PLATINUM E

SPIRIT

GOLD B

POTENTIAL

PLATINUM D

“We’re ready, Guild Master,” her second in command announced, as the small army of women focused intently on their leader, who smirked with anticipation.

“Let’s go, everyone! Let’s make that overgrown turtle our bi—”

“Who are we?!” a male voice interrupted from a few yards away.

“The Crusaders of the Storm!”

“Are we going to cleanse this world of that evil creature?!”

“With the force of our sacred might!”

“That’s right, everyone! Tonight, we shall dine in—”

“And you had to be here!” the female Pyromancer shouted. “Calvin Shitman!”

“It’s Sherman, you...!” the tall, mustached cleric retorted, glaring at the woman who stomped towards him. “Emily Domingo, you insolent fool!”

“It’s Dominguez, you piece of trash!” Emily shrieked before addressing Calvin’s group. “Whatever! Back off, all of you! We were here first!”

“Oh, yeah?” Calvin chuckled, mirroring her defiant stance. “We've been camping here for over an hour, so technically, you’re the latecomers.”

“What did you say?!” Before she could continue the argument, Emily noticed that the majority of her guild members were already mingling with the rival group, much to her dismay. “Don’t fraternize with the enemy, you ingrates!”

Calvin chuckled, covering his mouth with a hand. “Oh, my dear Emily, I pity you. How many times have you tried to kill the beast?”

“Once!” Emily declared proudly, hands on hips. “Unlike you, losers! How many times has it kicked your sorry asses? Three?”

“Four times,” Calvin corrected loudly, adjusting his posture. “And each attempt has given us invaluable experience. We are the most qualified to slay the monster today. We've memorized its attack patterns and adapted to its temperament. So step aside and let us show you what perseverance truly means.”

“That beast respawns once every month, and I won’t let someone else take it down!”

“Oh, so you acknowledge that my guild could kill it, fu fu fu.”

Emily, the Pyromancer, radiated a red aura. “Tell your band of boyfriends to back off, or else!”

“I don’t have several boyfriends, ma’am, just one, whom I love with all my heart,” Calvin retorted indignantly, making Emily burst into laughter.

“Always so humorless, you stiff old man!”

“We’re not backing down!” Calvin declared, raising his chin to tower over her. “Even though I know that you’re going to be inevitably obliterated, I can’t allow you and your mob to scratch its mineral surface and steal even the tiniest loot from me. I want it all or nothing!”

As Emily glared at him, the second in commands from both guilds approached, looking embarrassed.

“Guild Master Emily…” a tall bulky woman greeted her with a wave.

“Paladin Calvin.” A lanky man bowed slightly.

“What do you two want? Speak,” Calvin said softly.

“Don’t tell my Co-leader what to do! What do you want, Carol?”

“We’ve been talking with the Crusaders of the Storm,” Carol began, managing a half-smile.

“And we’ve talked to the ladies from Storm Crusaders…” Tristan added, saluting.

“And we’ve come to an agreement that… maybe we could form a team and finally slay the beast?” Carol revealed, her forehead wrinkling as she forced a smile.

“Teaming up with these weirdos?!” Emily exclaimed, glaring at the other leader.

“Us, gentlemen, uniting with this… woman? Unacceptable! She’s rash and impulsive!”

“And he is too cautious and hesitant!”

Carol and Tristan groaned simultaneously.

“Please reconsider, sir! Maybe the reason we haven’t been able to slay the beast is that we’re lacking firepower!” Tristan argued.

“Bloody hell, Emily! Last time we didn’t even get it to its second phase! They already have a strategy to divert its attention from us while we focus on attacking its weak spots!”

Both Emily and Calvin pursed their lips as they listened to their most trusted allies. Their eyes met again, this time more calmly. Carol and Tristan exchanged smiles and nodded.

“If we do this, who will call the shots?” Emily asked, inspecting her nails.

“Me, of course!” Calvin declared, twirling his mustache. “I’m the one with the strategy, remember?”

“I could play along for a while, but in case of an emergency, when you finally screw up, I'll take the lead. Did you hear me?”

As they spoke, something caught Carol’s eye in the sky. She elbowed Tristan, who also looked up, tilting his head and frowning.

“Trust me, eventualities can and will happen,” Calvin continued. “To minimize any further losses, I must have authority over both allied forces at all times.”

A ball of light traversed the sky, capturing the attention of both groups.

“All I hear is an excuse for you to boss me around!” Emily was saying.

“All I hear is a stubborn woman too afraid to lose her sense of power, even for a second,” Calvin snickered. “Scared that I might prove I’m a better leader?”

“Says the one who stays in the back lines, healing!” Emily countered.

“Says the one who rushes to the front lines despite being a mage! You don’t have the Vitality rank to tank hits, you halfwit! Are you trying to emulate a certain famous Battlemage, perhaps?”

“Um, Guild Master?” Carol interjected, her eyes fixed on the celestial body growing closer to the island.

“What did you say, you dipstick!” Emily snapped.

“Yes, I said it! Your fighting style doesn’t match your class!” Calvin exclaimed. “If your combat skills are any indication of your commanding abilities, then I pity your followers!”

“That thing is headed this way, isn't it?” Tristan said to a stunned Carol.

“Y-yes… Brace yourselves, everyone!” she yelled to her guild as Tristan did the same.

“Raise protective shields! Aid the Storm Crusaders who can’t!”

“You know nothing, you stupid… Role Player?” Emily said, finally noticing the warm light bathing the surroundings.

“Get out of my sight, you filthy Gamer!” Calvin replied before getting startled by a sonic boom.

Something crashed against Jötnarkungen’s back, creating a shock wave that blew Emily’s hat away and caused Calvin to lose his balance.

“What the hell was that?!” he yelled, but the roar of an explosion drowned out his voice.

When the air currents subsided, the white mages from Crusaders of the Storm canceled their shields and ascended the hill, joined by the women under Emily’s command. Eighty-four people witnessed what could only be described as a massacre.

Something was causing continuous explosions over the mountain-sized monster, making its limbs shake. Sharp-eyed marksmen observed enormous fragments of crystallized ice being hurled hundreds of feet away.

“Isn’t his back supposed to be the hardest part of its body?” Tristan asked, swallowing hard.

“It is,” Carol confirmed.

“You know…” Emily began, watching the spectacle of destruction from two miles away. “My guild members have been complaining about me not allowing men to join our ranks.”

“How curious,” Calvin mused, mesmerized by the fiery explosions. “Not allowing women in our guild has been the biggest grievance among my followers.” He paused, wincing at the sight of Jötnarkungen’s knees finally buckling. “Do you want to merge our guilds?”

“Look! Whatever that thing is, it seems to have entered its shell…” Emily pointed, adjusting her glasses. “And sure, we should merge. But what should we call ourselves?”

“People have been confusing our guild names so often that it hardly matters which one we use. I'd prefer Crusaders of the Storm, though.”

“Nah, if we're doing this, let's go with Storm Crusaders. It's shorter,” Emily suggested as Jötnarkungen’s body began to glow.

“Storm Crusaders lacks impact, woman.”

“Fine! How about Crusaders United?”

Calvin turned to her and extended his hand. “I like the sound of that.”

Emily shook his hand as Jötnarkungen exploded into a million rocky pieces. A lustrous, black ore of Living Iron landed near her feet, making her eyes sparkle as she picked it up. “Storm Crusaders…? Gather everything you can, now!”

“W-what?!” Calvin exclaimed, watching the dozens of women rush down the hill. “We’re Crusaders United now, Emily! We're splitting the loot fifty-fifty!”

“We’ll make it official once we return to Iregorn! But for now, finders keepers!”

“That woman! Crusaders of the Storm, charge!”

As Emily slid her feet through the snow, a flying mount soared overhead at high speed. “Crap! Who’s that? She’s going for the core!” Emily shouted. “Whoever reaches it before that girl gets a bonus!”

The flying rider left everyone behind, and on her path, she could see the enormous remains of Jötnarkungen’s corpse.

“What could possibly have done all this?” she whispered to herself, drawing closer to the valley’s center, where someone stood beside the cracked monster’s core. “Just one warrior did this?” She dismounted her blue pelican and landed 30 feet away from the figure. “Are you hurt?” she called to the crouching figure, who then stood. “My name’s Brenda, and I’m not here to steal your loot, I swear. I just want to…” She paused mid-sentence upon realizing that the monster slayer was a blonde-haired girl, her cheeks streaked with tears. “Are you okay?” Brenda asked before hearing others approaching.

“Lend me your mount,” the blonde muttered after wiping her face.

“W-what?”

“Are you deaf?!” the blonde exclaimed, glaring at Brenda with icy-blue eyes. “I destroyed my mount in the crash and I need to leave now! You can call your bird back after an hour, okay?!”

“B-but—”

The warrior didn’t wait for Brenda to finish her sentence. She leaped 100 feet into the air and commandeered the pelican, flying in the opposite direction from the approaching group.

Emily rushed down and hugged the giant core. “It’s mine, do you hear me?! I got here first!” She pointed at Brenda, who stared skyward with a look of astonishment.

“Woah…” Brenda muttered.