Milo showed up at the very last moment.
Carrying a short crossbow on his back, he was already gripping it tightly even before they had entered the forest, looking extremely nervous.
His gaze fell on Rena first, but after only a brief glance, he immediately looked away.
Behind Milo, the dark green-cloaked figure walked over slowly.
Her hood was pulled down low, and she wore that mask on her face.
The loose cloak concealed her body, and she was holding half a carrot in her hand.
It was very fresh, with a bit of dirt still clinging to it.
Turning her back to the group, she lifted her mask and took a serious bite.
Crunch.
The crisp sound echoed clearly at the village entrance.
Several mercenaries looked over at the same time.
The dark green-cloaked figure froze instantly, as if realizing everyone was staring at her.
She looked down at the carrot in her hand, then back at the crowd, her tone calm.
“Must eat before a fight.”
The archer was taken aback and couldn't help but laugh out loud.
“What kind of weird rule is that?”
The dark green-cloaked figure thought about it. “It helps you live longer.”
The archer stopped laughing. The one-eyed mercenary narrowed his eye, looked at the weapon on her back, and asked:
“You're the helper Milo brought along?”
The dark green-cloaked figure nodded.
Milo seemed to finally find some confidence and immediately stood up a bit straighter.
“Her name is Kolo, she's really strong!”
Rena's gaze lingered on her for a brief second before quickly shifting away.
Kolo.
Name noted.
Likes carrots, possesses astonishing strength, and most likely has high combat capability.
Such a variable could be a problem.
But now is not the time to deal with her.
The one-eyed mercenary swept his gaze over the crowd and slammed his round shield onto the ground.
“Since this is a temporary team, let's get the unpleasant stuff out of the way first. Speak up now about what you can do. Don't wait until we're in the forest to find out I'm standing next to a useless piece of trash.”
He spoke first.
“My name is Damon. Primary: Martial, secondary: Common-Artisan. My class is Iron Shield Expert.”
As he spoke, he raised the unusual round shield in his hand.
This type of class possessed a top-tier understanding and development of their weapons, allowing them to craft them on their own or modify them with various materials and enchantments.
High-level practitioners could even forge legendary weapons comparable to dwarven craftsmanship.
“Don't think I can only defend. Once my Shield Counter builds up enough power, it can easily blast a grizzly bear to death.”
The archer whistled.
“Then I'd better stay far away from you.” He smiled lazily. “I'm afraid that before the monster dies, I'll get sent packing along with it by your Shield Counter.”
Damon sneered. “In a temporary team, dying like that is actually quite common.”
As soon as those words were spoken, the atmosphere grew a bit heavy.
Isolde kept her eyes lowered, completely agreeing in her heart.
There was indeed a reason why old mercenaries lived so long.
The tall, thin mage pulled his grayish-blue robe tighter, his voice somewhat raspy.
“Severn. Primary: Elemental, secondary: Common-Scholar. Class: Four-Phase Scholar.”
After speaking, he gave the staff in his hand a gentle wave.
A small gust of wind swirled from the tip of his staff, pushing the dead leaves on the ground half an inch away.
“I know basic skills for the four elements of wind, fire, water, and earth, but I'm truly proficient in fire. I can burn away some vines, but don't expect me to fight in close quarters.”
He looked at Damon.
“Before danger gets close to me, someone had better block it.”
Damon snorted.
“Mages are all the same—fragile and high-maintenance.”
Severn remained expressionless. “Shield-users are all the same too—as stubborn as smelly donkeys.”
Even before they set off, the tension between the two began to flare up.
The archer quickly squeezed between them, holding up his bow and arrow.
“Ryan. Primary: Martial, secondary: Elemental-Wind. Class: Rapid Archer.”
He pulled a slender arrow from his quiver, its fletching wrapped in a faint cyan feather pattern.
“I draw my bow very quickly and can manipulate wind. If necessary, I can use Wind-Pattern Arrows to create powerful whirlwinds, though it might be hard to make use of them in the forest.”
At this point, he swept his gaze over the crowd.
“But let me make this clear beforehand: my arrows don't have eyes. If anyone runs around blindly and gets caught in the crossfire, don't blame me.”
The caravan guard slung his broadsword over his shoulder, his tone steadier than the others.
“Reece. Primary: Common, secondary: Martial-Guard. Class: Caravan Guard. There haven't been many caravans lately, so I can't make any money. I want to get a share of the materials to sell.”
His palm rested on the hilt of his sword, thick calluses coating the web of his thumb.
“I'll bring up the rear. If anything happens at the back of the team, I'll block it.”
Ryan glanced at him. “You're quite responsible.”
Reece said coldly, “I'm someone who's worked in caravans. Guarding the rear is just a habit.”
He paused, then added another line.
“Also, the materials we get will be distributed only after we make it out. If anyone tries to pocket them secretly, don't blame me for turning on you.”
As those words fell, the expressions of several people shifted slightly.
Isolde thought to herself that they hadn't even seen the treant yet, and they were already on guard against one another.
Once the actual good stuff appeared, this team would undoubtedly fall apart even faster.
Milo stood to the side. When everyone's gaze turned to him, he visibly stiffened.
Looking very unaccustomed to being stared at like this, he swallowed hard before speaking in a low voice.
“Milo. Primary: Common, secondary: Martial-Archer. Class... Apprentice Scout.”
Ryan clicked his tongue.
“An Apprentice Scout?”
In the 《Fallen Realm》, class names were not just tossed around casually.
The primary and secondary attributes determined one's general direction, while the class represented how far a person had progressed.
Thus, Milo's “Apprentice Scout” held incredibly little weight.
The original owner of the body, Isolde, had initially been Primary: Malice, secondary: None, and her class was the most basic of Malice Witches, a Soul Stitcher.
But her current situation was different from a normal class advancement.
She had killed Valen and obtained the Silver-White Core.
She had also become the new master of Crow Candle Castle, swallowing the authority that originally belonged to a boss.
From that moment on, her class path had already deviated from that of an ordinary Soul Stitcher.
In fact, because she had learned a light-attribute skill, her secondary path had become “Holy”—completely opposite to her primary path of Malice.
She was now a “Soul-Weaving Witch.”
She couldn't even be entirely sure what new titles or identities would appear on her panel in the future.
Seeing the disdain from everyone around him, Milo grit his teeth and added loudly:
“I can use a short crossbow, and I know the way a bit.”
Damon stared at him for a moment.
“You're not a mercenary?”
Milo pursed his lips. “I've tagged along with mercenary groups before.”
But “tagging along” and “joining” were two entirely different things.
There were always marginal figures in mercenary groups responsible for running errands, keeping watch, and carrying luggage.
They did most of the work for very little pay. Milo was exactly that kind of minor character.
Rena added disdainfully, “We originally let you join the team to run errands and help out, but who knew your running skills would be so impressive.”
Milo's face flushed red.
This fake Rena always managed to step precisely on his most embarrassing sore spots.
He wanted to retort, but he couldn't find any words that would convince the others.
Finally, everyone's gaze landed on the dark green-cloaked figure.
She looked up at the crowd. “Kolo.”
After saying that, she stopped.
Damon frowned. “That's it?”
Kolo thought for a moment, as if seriously trying to recall how an introduction should go.
But she couldn't actively expose her identity as a beastkin, so she borrowed a class she had heard of before.
“Primary: Martial, secondary: Common-Hunter. Class: Lone Shadow Ranger.”
Damon stared at the weapon on her back, then looked at her slightly offset toes as she stood, his eyes growing a bit more cautious.
This petite figure looked like she could be blown away by the wind at any moment.
Yet the deep pit she had smashed into the mud with a single strike half an hour ago was not something an ordinary person could achieve.
Rena's gaze swept over Kolo.
A cloak, a mask, a tightly wrapped weapon, and that bag of carrots hidden close to her body.
The more tightly concealed she was, the more it indicated she possessed something that could be used as leverage.
Rate on N.U.
