The leader with the flowy robes had provided funding for the raid, which is to say a ridiculous amount of money—about three gold rings, in the form of thirty silver rings, akin to three hundred bronze rings, or three thousand iron rings.

  For context, that was more than enough to buy a small house—in the first area, at least.

  We loaded up large crates filled with health potions, bandages and even a type of bottle I’d never seen before.

  “What is that?” I asked, poking the bright purple vial in Bruce's hand.

  “It’s an elixir,” Bruce said. After some light barter with the merchant, he forked over ten silver coins.

  “Bruce?” I asked. “That was a third of our money.”

  “You’ve never fought with an elixir before, have you?” Bruce chuckled.

  “Never seen one.”

  “Then today’s your lucky day.” he said, with a smile. “An Elixir creates a potion well, also known as an elixir well. This causes the potion effect to apply as a constant to the entire dungeon. Forever.”

  I poked the bottle, noticing a puff of mana. “That sounds widely overpowered.”

  “They’re really expensive, and they only work in dungeons,” Bruce stated. “They also disappear with the dungeon, once it’s beaten. So, in other words, to be worth their cost, this two-star dungeon needs to have at least a whole gold ring’s worth in loot.”

  “You don’t seem too worried.”

  “I’m not,” he said, shaking his head. “Loot isn’t going to be an issue. You remember the first dungeon you and I went through.”

  “Goldhide?”

  “He dropped about twenty silver rings in total,” Bruce stated. “These two-stars are estimated to drop a thousand.”

  The cogs in my brain started crunching numbers.

  “Ten gold rings?”

  “Maybe more, once you start adding up all the loot and monster drops,” Bruce said. “There’s got to be a decent bit of capital in those chests.”

  “I remember them being pretty good,” I mumbled. “But I was much weaker then. This dungeon’s got to be a lot harder than I remember."

  “Evidently so,” Bruce whistled. “Help me carry these, will you?”

  I strained, hefting one crate of regular potions up onto my shoulder.

  While I could’ve increased my strength—currently sitting at twenty-five—I might have damaged the crates and their contents. Until I had a better control of the strength I had, or we found more durable crates, I would be forced to carry an uncomfortable burden with only moderately superhuman strength.

  Sern helped too, though Bruce wouldn’t let her carry more than a single potion.

  At the raid site, the rest of the party had already moved their supplies, stacking it up outside the dungeon portal, before breaking into groups, discussing tactics and hyping one another up.

  When we arrived, I couldn’t help but notice the rising stench hanging off the air.

  “What’s that?” I gagged.

  “That was one of our new friends, taking care of the goblins,” Quin said. “The brown haired one.”

  I glanced over his shoulder. “Harva?”

  “Yeah, that one,” he grunted. “Terrifying hag. Smoked a couple thousand goblins without an issue. Word of advice, don’t get on her bad side.”

  Harva cleared her throat.

  Quin sighed. “She’s right behind me, isn’t she?”

  “Yeah.”

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  Quin glanced over his shoulder.

  Harva smiled and waved.

  “I know we’re rivals and all, but if I disappear, hunt her down for me and claim vengeance, wouldya?” Quin muttered.

  “I don’t think she’s going to beat you up—hang on, are you rivals?”

  Quin shrugged. “Is that a yes?”

  “Harva probably won’t kill you,” I stated. “He might though.”

  “WHAT DID YOU CALL HER?!” Leo screamed, finishing his run over and grabbing Quin by the neck, before giving him a good throttling.

  Mall glanced toward the four of us. “Should we do something about that?”

  I shrugged. “He’s fine.”

  “Really?”

  “Mostly.”

  Leo reeled back, moments from chucking Quin into the skyline.

  Ardenidi appeared from nowhere, giving Leo a little pat on the shoulder, and shook her head.

  Leo swallowed. “Sorry, Ardenidi, but—”

  And then she was gone.

  Leo looked down at Quin, before snorting in disgust and tossing him to the ground. “Don’t pick on girls.”

  Quin whimpered, curling up into a ball with his hands over his head.

  I squatted down beside him. “Well that wasn’t so bad.”

  “Shut up, dweeb,” Quin hissed.

  “Whatever happened to Sir? Those were good times.”

  He grabbed his face, groaning. “Why can’t I’ve been born as a cashier or something? That’d be so much nicer.”

  “Probably.”

  I stood, nodding to Harva. “Thanks for not blowing his head off.”

  “Oh, I call him far worse,” Harva said, with a little chuckle. “The key is to do it where he can’t hear you. Which pile is the potions?

  “All of them?” I guessed. “Someone brought a bag of sandwiches, but that’s about it.”

  Harva whistled, crunching the numbers in her head. “You made good use of those rings.”

  “I guess,” I said. “I’m more worried about health potions.”

  “Nobody brought any?”

  “Not one. We got an elixir though, so maybe that’s a substitute?”

  Harva smirked. “You haven’t been here long, have you?”

  “Technically, no. Actually…well…still no.”

  “Just carry the crates in and we’ll take care of the rest, squirt. Don’t you worry bout a thing.”

  A smoldering projectile shot through the air, bouncing off my shovel.

  Crapshoveler started smoking, and the black sludge peeled off, collecting in a heap on the floor.

  “Is that?---” I sniffed. “A goblin?”

  “Poor thing,” Harva sighed. “I could’ve sworn I’d gotten the last of them, too.”

  Ardenidi stepped from the forest, hands clasped behind her back. “Grind, I apologize. It would seem they are more fragile than I expected.” she nodded at me. “Good reaction time. Harva, that was disappointing. We were to kill all the goblins, not just the majority.”

  Harva bowed her head. “Some slipped through my aura.”

  Ardenidi hesitated, and Harva clarified.

  “They’re very small and very weak.”

  Ardenidi sighed. “It would seem the goblins are of no consequence, then.”

  I bounced on my toes, stealing glances at the dungeon portal. “So…are we going in?”

  “You are impatient,” Ardenidi hissed. “Settle down.”

  “Sorry,” I said, still watching the portal. It’d changed since the last time I’d seen it.

  Before, it’d been a door on the inner wall of a cave. But mana had been leaking from the door, spilling out into the forest, carving away at the mountain.

  Now the door stood freely, shadowed by an overhanging ledge, the last remains of the cave.

  In total, there were thirteen people entering the dungeon: me, Sern, Dexten, Mall, Cierin, Irion, Bruce, Throttle, Quin, Eere, Harva, Leo, and Ardendie.

  Out of those thirteen, over half were level ten or above—Cierin, Dexten, Bruce, Quin, Eere, Harva, Leo and Ardenidi —and the rest were still decently strong.

  According to Irion, the average two-star raid had eight people, with six over level ten, or a couple twenty or higher.

  This party was, in all likelihood, the strongest team of adventurers to meet in the starting area, with the sole exception of Asiel’s party. We would obliterate this two-star dungeon.

  But despite that, my stomach was twisting into knots.

  Something, somewhere, was seriously horrendously wrong with this dungeon.

  I grabbed Sern by the arm, putting on a smile.

  “Could you hold on tight?”