“Do you understand the implications of what you are saying?” Jun-Ra asked, not a trace of humor visible on her visage. “I am to Zenan Zi-Yao what a mortal girl is to a lord cultivator. We are both E-Ranks, but that means nothing. His calling is far above my own and his class, I suspect, is either Rare ranked or higher. The skills allotted to such a valuable class can defy comprehension,” She explained through pursed lips, as the tension she felt leaked onto her visage.
Griffin paused to consider her words, before asking in turn, “How do you know that?”
It was a fair, if blunt question to ask. If Jun-Ra hadn’t confronted Zenan Zi-Yao herself and hadn’t arrived at the site of her sister’s untimely passing in time, then how could she estimate his strength? Griffin was sure that there was a perfectly logical reason behind it, but felt it crucial for him to know the answer.
“I…,” She trailed off, her eyes flashing with pain as she framed her response. “My sister had a Rare class as well, though it was not entirely combat oriented. For Zenan Zi-Yao to kill her without giving her an opportunity to escape, he would have to be at least close to that level— which would not be surprising, as the magistrate has been doting on his only son since he was a child. Priceless alchemic pills, cultivation resources and medicine have been showered upon him like sweets, so it is no surprise that he is powerful.”
“Could he not have used underhanded means?” Griffin asked, sympathizing with Jun-Ra but still adamant in wanting to know more about Zenan Zi-Yao if he was going to be tasked with eliminating the asshole.
Jun-Ra shook her head, before answering, “While it is a possibility, any artifact given to him by the magistrate would cause too much devastation. And even if he had a powerful artifact, my sister would still have been able to escape if he lacked the talent to wield it. I do not make an overstatement when I call my sister a prodigy,” Jun-Ra explained.
“I see,” Griffin replied after a beat. “Well, that doesn’t really matter. If it takes a few years, I’ll stick around that long. But there’s a strong possibility that you won’t have to wait that long,” Griffin hinted, as his lips slowly curled upwards.
From what he understood of callings, most people had generic sounding ones that overlapped across thousands, if not tens of thousands of people— like the martial artist calling, which over three-fourths of the Inner Courtyard shared. Your own actions with the calling, the risks you were willing to brave and the danger you survived, influenced the class you got.
And Griffin’s calling quest reward was a sword named after the calling that had been important enough to summon him to Aeldfane all the way from earth.
That was one expensive plane ticket.
It couldn’t have been for nothing.
“Wait, is there a reward for the quest?” Shen-Ya, who had been uncharacteristically quiet until now, blurted out.
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Griffin’s smile grew even wider, before he replied, “Secret.”
“You—,” Shen-Ya began and from her aggrieved expression, Griffin felt like she was on the verge of unleashing a few choice insults. “Nevermind. I suppose you are allowed to keep your own secrets since you paid back your debt.”
“Paid back my own debts?” Griffin quizzed, clearly puzzled by the statement.
This time, it was Jun-Ra who gave him an amused grin.
“Did you not wonder how the entire sect knew of your brazen claims not long after you entered the Sect? Especially since us three were the only ones before the Elders?”
“Wait, you intentionally spread that news?” Griffin asked, his bafflement audible in his tone. “Why?”
“The Disciples in the Martial Law Sect are often made to do menial tasks like housekeeping at the behest of the Elders. As such, betting on disciples surviving different floors of the Gilded Dungeon is a common pastime.”
“Isn’t that a bit… cruel?” Griffin asked, taken aback by the viciousness of wagering on the survival of your own fellow disciples.
“Cruel?” Jun-Ra repeated, her tone sounding confused. “If you cannot even bet on yourself, then how do you hope to become a martial artist? No, I feel that the Elders even encourage it instead of dissuading it.”
“I… see,” Griffin managed to get the comment out, reminding himself of his cover story. “So, how much did you bet on me?”
“A thousand Qi chips,” Shen-Ya smugly declared, clearly very pleased by the outcome.
Griffin whistled in appreciation, as he took in the two girls in a new light.
“I’m impressed. You two know how to run a good hustle.”
“Hu-stle?” Jun-Ra repeated after him, clearly unfamiliar with the term. “What does that mean?”
Griffin realized just a bit too late that his auto-translation function hadn’t kicked in for that particular word.
“A scheme,” He hurriedly added.
“Hmph,” Shen-Ya sounded her disapproval. “Senior Sister Jun-Ra does not need to resort to tricks, it was the greed of that petty scoundrel, Shu-Lavan, that got himself in trouble.”
“Now, now,” Jun-Ra chided, though she was quite evidently amused. “We have enough resources to get you upgrades for the next floor. Did your level increase?”
“Yeah,” Griffin confirmed. “I’m level six now.”
Nodding, Jun-Ra reached for the void before her and pulled out a cloth pouch that was filled to the brim. “This should be enough to get you better armor and a new enchanted sword, considering that your current one ran out. Was it helpful?”
“The sword? Damn well saved my life,” Griffin’s reply came out a bit too enthusiastic, though he couldn’t help it. That enchantment had been too useful.
“Very well,” Jun-Ra noted. “Rest for a day and then we shall make preparations.”
Jun-Ra and Shen-Ya left not long after, leaving Griffin alone to his thoughts.
There was only one thing he could think about, the mysterious ‘Greed’s Sword’ that would be awarded to him if he completed his calling quest.
Would it be powerful enough for him to slay a person Jun-Ra described as a Demi-God to the current him?
Griffin wanted to find out, his anticipation not unlike a child waiting for christmas to swing around.