Meanwhile in Allistras, the capital city…
With help from a powerful guild, more and more of the weakest players were becoming independent every day. Supplied with potions, armor, and weapons, they would venture out to the field maps around the city, completing quests daily.
But recently, a different category of players with different goals and expectations had arrived in the peaceful city.
“I’ll kill the boss for you for ten thousand gold! How’s that sound?”
“Join our guild, Netherworld Darkness, and we’ll lend you a sword used by frontline fighters!”
“Recruiting slaves! I’m an ex-frontline fighter with my own mansion. Become my slave and enjoy a life of opulent leisure with me!”
Along the main street, many people were trying to strike various deals with the locals. They were mostly returnees from the front lines, from guilds other than Crest.
There was an unspoken rule among players that slavery and offers of lavish monetary or material support were taboo. The latter was something of a gray area, but in many cases, inexperienced players were lured with large amounts of cash to level up fast and access areas they were unprepared for, where they often died.
And while some players weren’t bothered by slavery so long as both parties were consenting, the practice presented ethical issues. There was concern that in-game slavery would lead to players becoming real-life criminals once they were no longer in the game, hence the outright ban.
But the newly arrived, high-level players were acting as if they were above any such rules. This was a direct result of the monster invasion on Fort Sandras.
Passersby were eyeing those individuals suspiciously.
“We’ve been getting more of these folks in town lately.”
“They leveled up so much on the front lines, nobody’s strong enough to stand up to them here. They do what they want.”
“Why are they coming back from the front lines anyway?”
“You didn’t hear? The whole squad got wrecked.”
Bad news about the front lines had reached even the people who didn’t step outside Allistras, like these two chatty players.
“Seriously? Think that’s gonna delay them clearing the game by a lot?”
“Yeah, I’d say so…”
“What a waste of space. How much effing longer do we have to wait?!”
Nobody reacted to the pair’s heartless comments. Those who’d had brushes with death even once would never say such things.
“Don’t disrespect the players who put their life on the line!”
The two gossips turned pale when someone shouted at them furiously, her voice carrying through the shopping district. They turned around and saw Crest’s Allistras receptionist, Lumia, her hair disheveled, her glaring eyes sunken.
Since she was just a random lady to them, they relaxed, not feeling ashamed at all.
“What for? Don’t forget your guild said it’s a choice to fight. You gonna treat us as second-rate citizens because we chose not to?” said one of the men.
“Women have it easy. Become a slave to someone powerful, and you secure a worry-free, cushy life for yourself,” said the other.
Lumia was shaking with powerless rage. Watching the two men walk away, she burst into tears.
Her guild had just sorted out the last problems in supporting the noncombatants; on top of that, training new units to send to the front lines had been going smoothly, and more reports had started coming in of members successfully clearing the Ur Sluice and Ilyana Tunnel. Right then, though, they’d been beset by a string of misfortune. There was some consolation in the fact that Alba and a few other figures central to Crest survived, but they first lost Galbo’s Party 6; then the Calloah branch chief, K; Barbara’s Party 7; and so many frontline fighters… And then Wataru left Crest.
With so many esteemed guild members dying one after another, it was little surprise that morale had plummeted, and there’d been a huge spike in the number of players leaving the guild. The organizational structure of the guild was on the verge of collapse, despite the best efforts from Alba and Flamme.
“We’re…losing everyone.”
She couldn’t forget the day she saw off Wataru and Misaki as they departed for the front lines. How many of the players who’d gone with them then had died?
Lumia began to think that maybe they were making a mistake in helping the noncombatants become self-sufficient and encouraging them to move to the next towns.
“Lumia, it’s heart-rending. It really is, but we have a lot of work to do,” Candy told her. He turned away from her to give her some space.
People were losing their loved ones and their friends, and tragedies were playing out right in front of their eyes—but grief wasn’t going to change anything for the better. They had to keep going. They had to soldier on and work to bring an end to this hell.
“Yes, you’re right…”
They had to check on the remaining guild members and assign them new tasks, then urgently discuss the guild plans and supportive policies with the leaders. There was no time for lamenting what had happened.
“The Cerou Underground Labyrinth has been cleared, and our frontline fighters weren’t wiped out by the invading monsters. That’s two pieces of good news among all the bad, isn’t it?” Candy told Lumia.
“Yes, of course. Progress has been made.”
“In the future, I might be taking over the Calloah branch…leaving you as the big boss here in Allistras, sis.”
Candy was being considered for the position of the new Calloah branch boss, and it was hard to find a better candidate—Crest members trusted him, and he was a terrific fighter to boot.
“I suppose I’ll have to manage…,” said Lumia.
“For now, let’s focus on getting our guild organized again,” said Candy. “Without order, players will only keep dying, I’m afraid.”
Lumia looked up gloomily at the sky, which was clouded over. Dark as Crest’s future.
A young lady was walking swiftly through the streets of Allistras, which was no longer the safe haven it used to be. Her skin was as white as a porcelain doll’s, and her delicate features made her seem fragile. She had long black hair with highlights and was wearing dark rose-red lipstick paired with red eyeshadow and thick eyeliner—in other words, an alt girl aesthetic.
“Oh! Mii! Did you wait long?” she said, skipping over to a man who was leaning against a wall and smoking a cigarette.