Chicken Fry Party's C-Grade Promotion Exam
The day the Chicken Fry Party applied for C-grade promotion. We checked our gear, sorted out our party roles, and got ready to pick up the promotion quest.
Our sole ranged DPS, Lemon Hyacinth; Riko, handling magic; Larirure Larirarion as our frontline tank; and Po'runga, doubling as bard and dealer. Surprisingly, our party's balance was solid. Leona was there too, but we'd slotted her in as sub and pack mule for now. It was heavy work, but she insisted it was all training and volunteered to carry the bags herself. Subspace pockets or Inventory skills were what we needed most right now. Ironically, I already had Inventory, but couldn't use it.
Rokuka Besikyuu, whom we hadn't seen in a while, looked a bit baffled by our party name, [Chicken Fry]. But she laughed it off, saying there were all sorts of weird party names out there anyway, and having a unique one was better.
In the Trust Union, where countless parties roamed, individual adventurers climbing ranks was common enough. But parties pushing for C-grade? Pretty rare, she said. Unless they were aiming to form a "guild" or had some big "goal," loose groups of unaffiliated C-graders would just band together as needed, and that was enough to count as a C-grade party by convention.
Once a party hit C-grade, they might get named requests or info from the Adventurers' Union on festivals or anomalies—that was about it. Taxes went up too, so if you were in it for the money, solo was better.
"Parties sometimes have non-combat roles too. Some specialize in production jobs... but most double up on combat anyway. No point being an adventurer if you're pure production."
Listening to Rokuka, we checked the C-grade party promotion quests. The Union offered some, but mostly the guilds making up the Trust Union did. It was about acknowledging their influence—treating your party as another force in their guild, an unspoken alliance, while testing your strength.
The most peaceful south gate, Laurel Guild district, didn't hand out overly tough quests. They matched them to the party's makeup. For example, the west gate Tiatu Guild district had rogue guilds, so lots of treasure hunts. North gate Darsirk Guild threw in high-difficulty raids. East gate Gwangmyeong Wolgaek Guild did bounties or party spars. Each guild had its own flavor.
Since we were in the Laurel Guild district, we figured we'd stick to their quests. Seemed smart—no reason to piss them off, and everyone wanted easier ones anyway.
We were leisurely picking one out when a receptionist—no, an adventurer—approached with a troubled look.
"Um, excuse me. You're the [Chicken Fry] party, right? The ones applying for C-grade requests...?"
"Yeah, that's us...?"
"The Laurel Guild master is looking for you over there."
We all tilted our heads and glanced toward the entrance. A massive crowd had gathered. Leaf-emblem badges marked them as Laurel Guild members. And drawing all eyes: waist-length golden hair sparkling like sunlight, pointed ears sticking out sideways. An elf. I felt a twinge of unease as they headed our way, so I cautiously stood.
"Hmph... I just can't wrap my head around it."
She scanned me head to toe, arms crossed, head cocked, looking down with clear disbelief.
Her opening line threw me. I glanced at the party, but they were just as baffled. Larirure was muttering "This bitch?" and reaching for her shovel, but Po'runga had her in a chokehold to calm her down.
"...Mind if I ask what you can't wrap your head around?"
"Giving special treatment to a human in the first place. And you don't even look that strong. Barely scraping C-grade, maybe."
Her words dripped arrogance, but I didn't deny it. My stats were indeed bare-minimum C-grade. Sure, skills could push me to S-grade specs sometimes, like [Hands Collector] under specific conditions, but a surprise attack would drop me right back to fragile C-grade—could even kill me. She wasn't wrong.
"You know who I am, right? You live in this south gate district."
"No clue."
"Hah...? You adventure in the Trust Union without knowing me, Ross Laurel, one of the three great Laurel Guild masters? How'd you even pass C-grade?"
"Guild master, I get it, but mind your manners. Elders always said to show respect in talks."
"Yeah, guild master. From the side, she looks like a total nutjob."
"..."
Her guildmates fired sharp barbs at her.
"I'm the guild master! That's worth respect! Do you know how hard I worked to climb here as an elf?!"
"Yeah, we get that. Respect others, guild master."
"No wonder you had no friends at academy graduation..."
"Y-you...!"
Face beet-red, trembling, unable to retort. Guild master, but not exactly beloved. Her long elf ears twitched wildly with every outburst. She warned her guildies to quiet down for this important talk, to preserve her dignity, then crossed her arms and glared down at me again. Any first-impression authority? Gone.
What's with this spoiled brat...?
"Anyway, as you see, I'm Ross Laurel. Elf."
"I have elf phobia. Can we switch?"
"See? Humans hate elves."
"Ugh...! I didn't do anything! Don't discriminate by race!"
"But you're threatening me right now?"
She was getting torn apart by her own guildies at every gap. Larirure was like, "What is this, a skit?" chugging mysteriously ordered beer, watching like an audience member. The rest of the party had relaxed too, munching snacks, wondering when it'd end as they spectated the guild master bickering.
"Kidding, anyway."
"Aaaah—!! Tell me that first!! You scared me!!"
This elf couldn't hide her emotions at all... Hands shaking, she meekly protested to stop the elf hate, then clamped her mouth shut. One more poke and she'd blow, so even her guildies and I went quiet. After about three minutes of her muttering "Why always like this when I try...?" I killed time handing out business cards and reading the Laurel Guild intro pamphlet from her guildies.
"Anyway!! Race isn't the point! I'm here officially, as south gate guild master, to meet you, the party leader!"
"[Chicken Fry] party leader, human Radamu Dice."
"What kind of party name is that?! Name it properly!! Your members didn't complain?!"
"Nope."
"R...really...? They must follow you well... Huh, maybe you have leadership despite the looks. Fine. The Union master's request brought me here in my precious time to see your face. Heh, you just caught his eye as a human. Work harder, maybe you'll meet him someday."
She brushed hair behind her ear, implying it wasn't me but my race that impressed him, pressuring me while boasting her status and "praising" me. Whether it was praise was debatable—she clearly saw me as needing tons of effort to measure up. Because it's a race-based request...?
"Hey, Radamu. Drinks after this?"
"Ah, Gorbain. Might take a while."
"Don't drag it out, Ross. Haha."
Then, maybe drawn by the commotion, Gorbain Trust wandered over with fries in hand, waving like old times. I said my leg was fine when he asked; he laughed heartily, saying tell him how the promotion went, and headed back to the Union master's office. Ross Laurel froze pale at the sight.
Her guildies shook her—no response.
"Wrong... she froze seeing the Union master."
"Sigh... she's capable, but that personality..."
"Should fix her speech first...?"
How little respect does this guild master have? She chugged juice her guildie brought—straw and all—to calm down, yelling "Fine, she has connections!" but eyes red, on the verge of tears. "I'm the guild master... I won't break," hands shaking pitifully.
Am I bullying her?
Dplrus Swamp Stropher Ball Hunt
"To test your party's strength... I'll issue the [Dplrus Swamp Stropher Ball Hunt Quest Request]!"
"Ugh, definitely C-grade monster, but a swamp...!"
She took the request form from a guildie and handed it over with one hand. I accepted politely with both. Lots of eyes. She shot a sharp, sneering glare—or maybe not—with a confident smirk, laughing "Do your best!"
"Laurel Guild provides swamp gear, antidotes, maps! Ahahaha! No time limit, so no rush! Report anomalies immediately! That's it!"
Like a storm, the Laurel Guild master left with a "I'm so cool..." look, golden hair swaying, strutting like a model out of the Union. Her guildies followed in a herd. What a bunch of airheads...
As we stared blankly, Laurel guildies handed over party-matched gear—even kid-sized for 9-year-old Leona—in boxes, then left.
"Hmm... personality aside, seems like a decent person?"
"Feels like she's forced into a bad fit."
"What now, Radamu? Report her?"
"Nah..."
Post-receipt note: No obligation to return the pricey gear; Laurel Guild guide said keep it. Really just came to see my face. Later learned she was only 18. Younger than me...