The wheel began to turn.
The names ticked past with a heavy mechanical clack, and soon it was a blur of color, spinning with the violence of a jet turbine.
A few hunters with vision-related skills squinted, veins bulging in their temples as they tried to track the names, but quickly shook their heads, groaning and rubbing their eyes.
“It’s too fast! I can’t read a damn thing.”
“How the hell are we supposed to aim at the easy ones?”
Their one shot at rigging the fight in their favor seemed to be evaporating before their eyes.
[Anyone present may throw the dart to pin their opponent!]
[Ready, set, go!]
A single, glowing holographic dart appeared, hovering in the air at the center of the crowd.
“Everyone relax,” a voice cut through the murmurs. “Leave it to me.”
A tall and lean man with giant composite bow slung over his back stepped forward from the crowd.
“My [Eagle Eye] skill can track even a hummingbird's wings. A little spinning wheel is nothing.”
The archer’s confidence was contagious, and in the trash-strewn alleyway, he looked like a beacon of hope.
People craned their necks to get a better look at the man.
“Who’s that guy? He seems confident.”
“Wait I know him! That’s Max Kane from the Legends Guild!”
“Come on, man, you got this!”
Shane narrowed his eyes and checked the man’s status.
[Name: Max Kane]
Rank: B
Title: None
Class: Ranger
He checked his skill list, and sure enough, there was the [Eagle Eye] skill. Shane was actually a little impressed. It really was as good as he claimed.
The archer took a measured stance, planting his feet firmly on the asphalt. His half-closed into slits of pure concentration as he reached out and grasped the holographic dart.
He drew his arm back in perfect form.
Steadying his breath, he waited, then just when he released the dart, a new message exploded right in front of everyone’s face.
[I said, GO!]
“Whoa!”
The archer’s arm jerked instinctively as he threw.
Shane heard Luke Hinton swear softly under his breath.
As the dart embedded itself into the blur of color, the wheel groaned, the spinning slowing down rapidly.
The names began to separate, becoming legible as they ticked past.
═══════ ? ═══════
Soggy Mudman
? Normal A-rank ?
═══════ ? ═══════
Lonely Scarecrow
? Normal A-rank ?
═══════ ? ═══════
Giant Dust Bunny
? Normal A-rank ?
═══════ ? ═══════
Sleepy Slime
? Normal A-rank ?
═══════ ? ═══════
Normal A-rank.
That meant a boss without any crazy special abilities.
The wheel finally clicked to a stop.
═══════ ? ═══════
Heaven’s Executioner
? Celestial A-rank ?
═══════ ? ═══════
Despair filled the silence.
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
The faces of the people who had just been praying to their respective gods turned the color of ash.
“Wh-what the fuck?” Max Kane stammered in disbelief, his hand still outstretched. “That-that was cheating! I aimed for the Slime. I swear I aimed for the slime!”
But the words on the wheel didn’t change.
The gold letters of Celestial A-rank glowed with a terrifying, holy light.
“Weren’t they all normal A-ranks a second ago?” someone whispered.
“Why the hell is a Celestial monster even on the list?!”
Hunters started shouting, panic fragmenting the group into chaotic clusters.
But the most devastated was Shane’s party.
After all, they had been the “Dream Team,” the group with the highest rankers and the best chance of success.
“C-celestial… does that mean the minions would be a celestial, too?”
“Shit!”
The System, apparently not done tormenting them, chimed happily.
[Thanks for joining the roll!]
[Ooooh, you landed an interesting one. (Side-eyes emoji)]
The System seemed genuinely pleased.
I guess if you’re filming for an audience, Shane thought bitterly, the harder the fight, the better the ratings.
[Fun fact! Out of 100 monsters on that list, there was only ONE Celestial-class!]
[Congrats on the super rare pull! (Party popper emoji)]
Holographic confetti rained down from the sky, drifting through the dark alleyway to the sound of triumphant trumpets.
Everyone’s will to fight completely shattered at that instant.
Shane quickly scanned everyone’s status windows again, but as he thought, not a single one of them had a [Curse Resistance] skill.
They had managed to draw the absolute worst enemy on the list.
Shane glanced at the others. Max Kane was doing his best to silently back away. Shane wouldn’t be surprised if the guy got jumped by the other hunters in frustration, so he pretended not to see.
His own party members weren’t even reacting anymore.
They just looked like they wanted to run.
He looked at Henry Stone. The B-rank tank’s face was pale. Celestial curses were notorious for dropping a hunter’s effective rank in combat. An A-rank Celestial fought like an S-rank, or maybe even higher.
Henry was probably worried that nobody here could handle a monster on that level.
The other Wynn members looked just as bad.
Even if Shane, the supposed S-rank, could handle the Heaven’s Executioner alone, could they stop the B-rank Celestial mobs that would flood the streets? Or at least stop them from attacking Shane’s back?
A dungeon breach in the middle of Brownsville, protecting civilians, against Celestial-class monsters was a whole different animal.
He couldn’t let this mood set in.
Shane knew he had to step in, but he couldn't just take charge. For an outsider’s words to be effective, he had to be invited.
He stood back, waiting for his opening.
The moment came when Henry, looking for any scrap of hope, finally turned his deesperate gaze to Shane.
“What do we do, sir?”
Shane deliberately put on an annoyed expression, his voice unimpressed.
“Obviously, the plan’s the same. They’re monsters. We kill the bastards before they kill us.”
The response was blunt, like the usual Shane, that a bit of tension left Henry’s face. Even the other Wynn members seemed to return to reality, clutching their weapons tighter.
It was an old trick Shane used often in his past life.
He knew that when people were terrified and everything was chaos, they instinctively searched for something familiar, something consistent.
For better or worse, Shane’s own abrasive, unimpressed personality was the most familiar anchor they had right now.
Of course, the nearby hunters who overheard just looked confused. They were probably wondering why a man's own team looked grateful after being spoken to like they were idiots.
Still, Shane had everyone’s attention now.
Now hee had to use it before they started panicking again.
Shane raised his voice.
“We’re setting a new perimeter. I need to know if anything else changed because of the party redistribution. Any skills locked?”
Luke frowned, stepping closer.
“How are you already thinking about a plan? Didn’t you see that? That’s a Celestial-class boss.”
Shane’s lips curled back, baring his teeth in a wild grin.
“It’s a good fucking thing someone is. You want me to sit here and cry about it like the rest of you?”
Shane had deliberately set up the conversation to flow this way.
He couldn’t afford to act like the only one who wasn’t fazed. Didn’t want Henry Stone trying to redirect that Shane was an ally of monsters again or whatever.
And swearing was one of the most effective ways to show a person’s actual emotional state.
The calculated outburst worked. Luke, who had been analyzing Shane’s behavior, looked steadier.
“My apologies.”
Though his expression was smooth, he was still probably wary, minus the initial panic. That was to be expected.
The head of the information guild would never let his guard down easily, especially not for a ghost with no past records like Shane.
Frankly, Shane was surprised the man had backed down at all.
Also, he had no intention of offering any reassurance to the groups.
People fought harder when they were desperate.
***
“I’m telling you, I can’t land a clean hit up close! Not against that thing!”
“Hunter Barlowe, we have a tank,” Luke said, his voice tight with forced patience. “So if we coordinate—”
“It doesn’t matter if we have a tank! If I can’t do it now, how am I going to do it in a real fight? I’ll freeze up! I’m out of practice with a sword, I’m using my bow!”
Maybe Shane had been asking for too much.
People in this world were much softer than he expected.
From what Shane could gather, Whitley Barlowe had awakened as a swordsman.
The only reason the old man had used a bow in their last dungeon was because he sucked at close combat and was terrified of gettin ghit.
And now that he was being asked to do his actual job—hold a sword and stand on the line—he was falling apart.
Whitley shot a sideways glance at Shane.
The meaning was clear. He wanted Shane’s position.
The Wynn members, based on the Breakneck Ridge clear, had assigned Shane the role of ranged damage dealer, assuming he was a fire-class caster.
Whitley, figuring he had no say in the matter due to his low rank, hadn’t said a word when the positions were decided.
But now, at the last possible minute, his self-preservation overridding his anxiety or whatever, he was making a fuss.
Shane met his gaze, and the old man quickly looked away.
There was an easy solution to this.
“We’ll switch, then,” said Shane flatly.
“Wh-what?” Whitley stammered, his eyes going wide as if Shane had just offered him a winning lottery ticket.
Before Shane could follow up, Luke stepped smoothly into the conversation with an easygoing smile. It didn’t reach his eyes.
“Haha, since when did the definition of melee and ranged combat change?”
He casually rested a hand on Whitley’s shoulder, a gesture that was half friendly reassurance, half physical restraint.
“Hunter Barlowe, your skill’s damage drops when you channel mana through a projectile. It’s a core mechanic of your class. We need maximum DPS right now.”
Luke casually brushed off Shane’s offer, trying to steamroll the conversation back onto his preferred track.
If Shane let it slide, Luke would have everyone wrapped around his finger in minutes. And Shane would lose control of his secret strategy before it even began.
Shane clicked his tongue mentally.
Not happening.
“No. It’s better to sort this out now than to have a problem with our front line later.”
Whitley’s face turning a blotchy red at the implication.
“What did you… Wait, a-are you really letting me move to the back?” Whitley interrupted himself, realizing that though he was being insulted, Shane was actually backing him up.
“Don’t make me repeat myself.”
Shane had only meant to confirm the swap, but the [Behavior Lock] twisted his words to come out like a threat.
But his sudden offer replaced Whitley’s flicker of hope with suspicion. He looked at Shane, then at the backline position, seeming to think there was some hidden risk to the ranged position that he didn’t know about, and that Shane was trying to trick him into it.
Shane sighed.
“You want the position or not?”
“I, I want it,” Whitley reluctantly agreed, sweat beading on his forehead. “Fine, we’ll switch!”
Finally.
It was obvious what Whitley’s real plan was.
He probably wanted to hang back, pretend to fire a few arrows, and then bolt at the first sign of the formation collapsing.
The old man should have just run away earlier, then, but he must not have been confident he could escape an A-rank breach on his own. Did he think it was safer to be with the other hunters?
I guess he got nervous again when he saw there weren’t as many high-rankers as he’d hoped.
Well, if he was going to desert them, then he should at least pretend to cooperate until then. The old man was making his intentions painfully obvious.
Luke shot Shane an exasperated look before turning away.
Shane must have foiled Luke’s optimal strategy.
He had probably planned on keeping an eye on the Whitley, maybe even using him as a disposable meat shield if he tried to bolt.
Was Luke pissed that Shane had messed up that plan and moved his pawn out of reach?
Too bad.
Because Shane had better ideas.
