241. You At Least Keep Your Minimum Duty.
The Grove Shopping Mall, flanked by a bustling waterfront promenade, was engulfed in darkness as the battle raged on.
Gunpowder Guild hunters had rushed from their posts to defend key areas the moment orders came down from headquarters.
But without coordinated strategies or linked parties, they were forced into isolated skirmishes.
Having just withdrawn from a gate, they were short on supplies and running on fumes.
It was a desperate struggle that truly deserved the term "fighting tooth and nail."
"Patrick, Chief! There are too many bees here! The magic users can't move, and everyone's knight-class, so the line keeps getting pushed back! We're out of ranged arrows! We need support parties now!"
"Hold the line! Beverly Hills crew is coming!"
"That 'coming' support has been 'on the way' for an hour already!"
Patrick sliced through two carnivorous wasps charging with poison stings leading the way, then bellowed.
"We have to seal this from Grove all the way to the LA Museum no matter what! If this breaks, Blackburn Avenue to Orange Street is done for! You know how many people are in there, right? Don't fall back even if you die!"
"Damn, we're screwed."
"No wonder nobody wanted this Grove gate."
"If the party leader had drawn a better lot, we'd be tackling Beverly Hills gate instead."
The party members cursed their rotten luck.
But their misfortune was far from over.
"Five o'clock direction! Queen wasps spotted! And their guards too!"
"Right flank! Right! Three queens!"
"Here too!"
Seven queen wasps swept in from the eastern line facing the Grove Shopping Mall, forming a semicircle.
'We can barely handle the swarm tactics, and now queens? Right after finishing a raid in the gate—everyone's exhausted. Normally, we'd stand a chance.'
Truth be told, Patrick's party wasn't just holding their own—they had the power to push back this swarm. The problem was their fatigue.
They'd cleared mid-bosses before tackling the Grove gate boss created a week ago, emerging from a hunt straight into this fight. It was overwhelming.
"Chief! What's the plan?"
His sub-party leader asked. Patrick opened the ampoule kit pouch at his waist.
'One booster shot, one stamina, two healing potions. Fighting like this won't last. Other parties are probably the same. It's not a simple hunt—defense formation over too wide an area for our numbers.'
Supply shortages plagued everyone else too. The entire assault team from the Grove gate raid was in peril.
They'd managed against worker-bee wasps for a while, but with queens and their guards joining, struggling hunters multiplied.
As Patrick seriously considered retreat,
Patrick blocked the bees' attacks while issuing precise party orders, even as he chatted with Dean.
The line crumbled as the queens attacked. He rescued a hunter on the brink of exhaustion and pulled the entire party inside the mall, planning to hold at the narrow entrance with tanks up front.
Thanks to that brief respite, Patrick tended the wounded and resumed his chat with Dean.
Patrick grimaced bitterly.
How many party members had been ground down by Assault Captain Martin's overzealous loyalty?
He was desperate to catch the guild master's eye for the next "master leader" (expedition leader) spot.
Thanks to that, Patrick's assault team's record topped the guild charts—but so did their casualties.
Ending the chat with Dean, Patrick led two hunters from the second shift to the front. Those who'd been on the line pulled back.
They pooled their scant potions for management. Minor wounds got ignored unless life-threatening; no potions unless exhausted.
By the third shift rotation, Patrick was hurting too. His legs buckled saving a faltering teammate, and a queen's stinger pierced his thigh.
The rear swapped in just in time—otherwise, he'd have been done.
Party members dragged him back and doused the wound with detox potion.
"Gah! These damn bee bastards use feints? Ack! Hey, easy!"
"Lucky we have antidote. Generic toxin in universal potions saved you. Special or unknown, you'd be dead, Chief."
"Poll, you little shit. I took that saving your ass?!"
"That's why I'm hosing you down, right?"
"Using communal supplies to brag. Anyway, hard training after this. Can't have you flopping like a wet noodle."
"I'm assassin-class! Joey over there folded early—why just me?"
"Hey, I'm a mage!"
Joey snapped, suddenly dragged in. Poll, who'd always ribbed him, sneered.
"What makes mages officers?"
"Least my salary's higher."
"What? I'm tier-1 assassin. Guilds begging for me. Higher raid share too."
"Funny. Show your contract if you're so sure."
"Wanna bet? I win—ten grand. Scared?"
"Ten? Pocket change. Twenty on mine."
"Thirty? Make it a mil."
"Deal. Throw in your house. You too."
"My supercar too."
"Supercar plus my limited-edition watch. Deal?"
"Ooh, wanted that. Weak. My Miami villa..."
"You idiots! Wanna gamble? Go Vegas! Who're you bickering in front of?!"
Patrick roared as the poison cleared. The two hunters slunk together. Normally chill and skilled, their chief terrified when blood was up.
"Anyway. Potion stock?"
"This is it."
Mana-dry Joey, backing from the rear, handed over the bagged potions.
No need to count: four bottles total.
Healing and stamina—most needed—barely enough for one person.
"If someone gets hurt bad, we're in trouble."
"Kuhak!"
A fighting hunter went down right then.
"Poll. Pull Baker and hold a sec. Think we gotta bail."
"Got it."
As Poll dragged the wounded, Joey asked.
"Chief. Civilians in the mall—what about them?"
"Can't take 'em. Sorry, but we survive first."
"Don't get sentimental. Not our first rodeo."
"Yeah, but..."
"Pay it back later. We slip out while bees feed. That's it. Right call."
By "feed," Patrick meant the mall's hidden civilians.
Harsh, but best for his party chief role.
"Nice call my ass. Join our guild, guild master'd beat you three days straight. Raid leader? Better red gate."
An unfamiliar voice from behind froze Patrick.
'No presence... back taken.'
Patrick turned stiffly. A young Asian girl stood there, glaring coldly down.
"Who the hell are you?!"
The girl glanced dismissively and faced forward, striding past without looking.
"Not sparing you 'cause you're cute. Pay for your lives. I'll clear these. You at least keep your minimum duty. Don't run."
With a gesture, the bees in the mall corridor were shoved outside.
At the entrance, she raised her hand.
"You bastards wrecked LA but shouldn't have ruined oppa's concert."
Telekinetic crush!
BOOM!
"Progress is slow. No faster shortcut?"
Kang Moo-hyuk asked Thomas. Thomas unfolded a mental map of central LA.
Like most mana addiction patients, he had exceptional memory. LA's alleys, subways, sewers—he knew them all.
"Not detour. Fastest route. But hunting every bee slows us—can't punch through swarms."
"Sorry. My fault, blaming the guide."
"No need. Saving people. But maybe search nearby for O.C. members or linked freelancers? Contact through them."
"Freelancers? Doubt many in guild-dominated downtown without jobs..."
"More than you think. They spend what they earn. Nearby district full of clubs, bars. Bound to find a bunch."
Thomas's idea made sense. As an LA local, his input was key for Kang Moo-hyuk.
"Good. Head there. Faster than bees—message O.C. via hunters."
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