Blade Windmill Mountain Valley (2)
The harpy's corpse plummeted over the cliff's edge. A crash echoed from below. The sound of rock smashing against bone. Eugene peered silently down the cliff. Dust billowed up, only to be swept away by the fierce wind. A few gray feathers spun lazily through the air before vanishing from sight.
Eugene slowly raised his head. Just in case, he spread his shadows thin, scanning the surroundings for any hidden stragglers—but nothing. Just the lingering stench of harpy blood. No Polluted Core. No signs of mutated entities lurking. It was a gate that had truly ended without a hitch.
Come to think of it, this might be the first time it wrapped up so cleanly. The sheer normalcy felt off, somehow.
"...Even days like this happen, huh."
Eugene shook the bloodstains from his hands. Things always got messy. The Goblin Den spat out an Irregular. The Graveyard of the Dead revealed a Polluted Core. It was like gates had it out for him personally... but not this time. No variables at all. Or rather, nothing even worth calling a variable to begin with. The harpies were just a bit numerous, but hardly a threat.
Skills: Gravity (S)
Eugene glanced indifferently at his status window. A twinge of regret hit him. Meeting a polluted entity usually bumped his mana stat.
He stared at the window a moment longer, then sorted through his thoughts.
Time to climb to the next rank soon.
It felt like back when he was F-rank. Levels shot up noticeably at first, then slowed to a crawl. E-grade gates had reached their limit.
After exiting the gate, Eugene pulled out his phone right away. He slumped onto a roadside bench and fired up the Awakener-exclusive app. Tapping the menu to open the promotion exam tab brought up the screen immediately.
• 30 E-grade Mana Stones
• Complete conquest of designated gate
Eugene's brow furrowed on instinct. Designated gate. The mere words made his irritation spike. The detailed explanation at the bottom of the app laid it all out.
Promotion exam designated gates were classified not as the current E-grade, but the next tier up: D-grade.
"...Party play?"
Eugene clicked his tongue. Thirty mana stones? Easy. Just a matter of time—and he already had more than enough. The problem was the second condition. That single line forced him to team up with others.
Solo entry forbidden. What could've been a quick solo sweep now demanded a party. Coordinating breaths, syncing steps with teammates. Making it unnecessarily complicated.
Eugene stared at his phone screen, lost in thought for a moment. Solo suited him fine right now. No need to watch anyone's back, and if things got dicey, he could just bulldoze through.
He let out a short sigh. Summoners already had a lousy rep in the Awakener world. Weak main body combat, summons with clear growth ceilings—that perception was widespread. Of course, it had nothing to do with him. But with Summoner as his visible class, others had no choice but to see it that way.
The real issue was shattering that image. Show even a sliver of his true power, and rumors would spread like wildfire. E-grade Summoner pulling insane feats in a designated gate. Stupidly strong. Those whispers traveled faster than you'd think. Just look at the recent Baeksa Guild incident that hit the news. The world saw it as a rampaging monster causing casualties, but if word got out that his power was behind it, everything changed.
If anyone linked him to that event, it wouldn't end at mere annoyance. It could trace back to the ones Choi Siljang had mentioned—that person and their crew. And if so, they might target Sua again.
"What a pain."
This was why he should've started at a higher rank from the get-go. Fat lot of good regretting it now did. Even rewinding time meant starting F-grade anyway. One path forward: pass the promotion exam while hiding his strength as much as possible.
Muttering to himself, Eugene swiped through the app. Closing the promotion guide popped up the Awakener app's party recruitment board.
• Recruiting 1
Conquest of designated gates, promotion exam partners, first-timers welcome, veterans preferred. Similar postings scrolled endlessly. Eugene skimmed a few.
Nothing caught his eye. Or rather, spots for a Summoner like him were scarce. Even promising ones would likely ghost him the moment he mentioned his class.
With zero expectations, he tapped a nondescript one.
• Recruiting 1
Eugene hesitated briefly, then opened the chat.
Eugene's gaze turned icy. Just a polite way of saying Summoners weren't combat material.
He closed the chat without a word and tapped another post.
His lip twisted. So familiar. Mention Summoner, and the vibe died instantly. A forgotten sting resurfaced.
Eugene exhaled shortly and scrolled down. That's when one post caught his eye in the corner of the screen.
Eugene's finger paused. Anyone for 1 spot.
He stared at the screen, eyes narrowing. Anyone? Parties usually specified frontline, ranged, healer, support. But anyone? Desperate to fill numbers, or truly indifferent to the last slot? Either way, it didn't scream normal.
After a moment's debate, he tapped for details. The party setup was lean: one frontline, one ranged, one support. And one open slot. No class restrictions.
His gaze lingered. This might actually work better. Less hassle than parties that drew lines the second he said Summoner. At least this one pretended not to discriminate.
Of course, it could be sketchier. Recruiting anyone for a designated gate conquest? Suspicious as hell. But he only needed the promotion clear. Grab it and bail.
No more hesitation. He opened the chat.
Eugene's eyes narrowed slightly. No class question first. Normally, they'd probe: tank? Ranged? Healer? Especially for a designated gate party—they needed to know roles.
But not this one. No questions on combat style, class, or experience. Like they just needed bodies.
That snag tugged at him. He stared at the screen, then typed.
The read receipt popped up. Reply came quick.
A message followed with meetup spot and time. Not far from the designated gate entrance—an outlying rally point. Low foot traffic, easy access.
Too clean. No class ask, just "come."
Too vague, too irritating. Eugene sighed shortly.
Desperate, maybe.
Possible. If a slot emptied right before conquest, they'd grab anyone to fill it.
But flip it: that anyone must serve some purpose.
If it was a normal party, great. If not, he'd find out. He only needed the promotion anyway.
One last reply.
Eugene eyed the screen a beat longer, then pocketed his phone. Suspicious, sure. But no reason to dodge. Party play it was, like it or not. If Baeksa types crawled out again, he'd quietly mop them up.
And if real trouble brewed? Handle it then. Simple as that.