“So you’re saying the chance of killing it is practically zero, right?”
Autumnwater summarized Roland’s words, but Roland gave no definite answer… Still, there was no need to clash head-on with a monster of this level.
“Actually, I’ve been wondering something.”
Walking through the long teleportation corridor, Thuke asked with his hands behind his head,
“What does ‘Wolf-rank mercenary’ even mean?”
Autumnwater: “…”
Roland: “…”
Both stared at him as if they’d seen a ghost.
“W-what? Did I say something weird?”
“How can you not know the Mercenary Guild’s ranking system when you’re already a registered mercenary?” Roland placed his hands on his hips.
“Don’t tell me you bought your mercenary ID online too.”
“No way! I complete six tasks every year to keep my credibility score above minimum!”
“Only six?”
Absurd. Roland had seen the laziest mercenaries do at least ten annually.
“No wonder you know nothing about guild affairs.”
“Ahaha… so what *is* a Wolf-rank mercenary?”
“Just a title. The more you contribute to the Mercenary Guild, the higher your rank,” Autumnwater answered for Roland.
“From lowest to highest: Fox, Wolf, Tiger, Dragon, Legend. You’re barely clinging to Fox rank. Roland and I finish around thirty tasks a year—Wolf-rank is the expected next step. Honestly, Wolf-rank is the ceiling for hardworking mercenaries. To reach Tiger-rank? You’d need to solo an A-rank monster.”
“Solo?”
“Yep. If *you* took down the Lionbite Shark alone right now, you’d jump straight from Fox to Tiger. The Guild would unlock extra benefits and support. Tempting, huh?”
“Don’t talk like I’d actually do that!” Thuke’s face turned pale.
“Any sane person knows better than to face *that* thing alone.”
“Maybe someday, if you break through to the High Martial level and reach Grandmaster status,” Roland tossed out casually, then switched topics.
“Anyway, I accepted five new tasks just now when we left.”
“Huh?! Five?! When?!” Thuke’s eyes widened.
“I didn’t see you exchange a single extra word with Miss Ning!”
“You can place orders directly on ‘Bingbing.’ Wolf-rank privilege. D-rank and C-rank tasks skip front-desk approval.”
Autumnwater, clearly as seasoned as Roland in task logistics, nodded knowingly.
“For mercenaries relying on tasks for income, bundling several in one region beats running around endlessly. Yeah, it’s tougher upfront—but better to crush it all at once. Solves one or two months of hassle.”
“So Roland took Black Forest-area tasks?” Thuke suddenly got it.
“Oh! So this trip *looks* like we’re following Miss Tina’s orders to hunt the Lionbite Shark… but really, we’re heading to the Black Forest to wrap up five tasks. We’re not slacking—we’re earning side cash!”
“Exactly.” Roland tapped his phone.
“I used a separate mercenary account, so I can’t share the tasks. But help me out, and I’ll split the reward.”
“Yes! Awesome!” Thuke instantly perked up.
…
After about half an hour in the teleportation corridor, they finally emerged.
The exit was a station built on the outskirts of the Black Forest.
“Yo, Roland! C-rank or D-rank today?”
“One C, four Ds.” Roland waved to the station attendant—clearly a regular.
Walking to the Black Forest would take most of the day. No time for that.
Transport options, however, were plentiful near the station.
“Anyone got a driver’s license?” Roland asked. Thuke shook his head. Autumnwater replied,
“A sports car?”
“Yeah. You *really* wanna walk?” The silver-haired youth shrugged. Neither he nor Thuke were legally old enough to drive—but cars were basically remote-controlled toys. The rule was just paperwork.
After renting a black sports car, Autumnwater gunned the engine and sped off with the other two toward the Black Forest.
Even from afar, storm clouds hung thick over the forest canopy.
Glancing at his phone, Thuke read aloud:
“The Black Forest stays under constant cloud cover with moderate rain. Monsters grow stronger and temperatures drop the deeper you go.”
“It sits on Blackstream Kingdom’s border. Legends say a brutal war scarred this land long ago. Now it’s haunted by monsters and the ghosts of fallen warriors.”
Roland and Thuke weren’t fazed. Staunch materialists—especially in this era.
Ghosts these days live-stream on phones. What’s to fear?
“Hey Roland, if you couldn’t drive before… did you *run* here?”
Thuke always asked blunt, everyday questions. He was genuinely “ordinary.”
Chatting with him was easy—no hidden meanings, traps, or tests to decode. Just pure, relaxing simplicity.
“This place rents more than machines. Horses, two-legged dragon carts, even bicycles.” Roland pointed over his shoulder.
“And if the wind’s strong and at my back? I’d just glide over on my wings.”
“Smart! But how’d you get back?”
“Three ways: run, call a ride, or catch the shuttle bus.”
“Shuttle bus?”
Before Thuke finished, a double-decker bus rumbled past on the Black Forest road. Wounded travelers slumped inside, utterly drained.
“That’s it! Why didn’t *we* take that?”
“Renting this sports car isn’t cheap, right?”
“You’re clueless. Miss Tina’s covering all trip expenses. So why *not* enjoy the ride? You wanna save *her* money?”
