Chapter 110: Thirty-Nine vol.2

Nails stabbed through rock and pierced into the mountain side. Flare Shun cupped her hand, holding herself by one arm as her left hand reached up and stabbed, drilling into the wall of the mountain. She smiled, tail wrapped around her waist, her amber eyes glancing up at the fifty-meter height of the mound of rock; not a sheer climb, but almost so.

"What are you doing crawling for? You've got more agility than that, don't you? Hurry up, would you? Time's ticking." A voice yelled from below her.

Flare Shun grinned, showing her fangs as her cat ears twitched above orange hair.

"Just enjoying the fresh air up here!!" She yelled back with a laugh.

The two companions below her were not amused. She could feel their eyes. Though, she simply shrugged as if it wasn't her problem.

"Alright alright," She said as she focused once more, the tattoo of a lightning bolt below her left eye shifting to that of a snowflake, "I gotcha."

Holding herself up, dangling, she pulled up and released, shooting into the air before digging both hands into the mountain wall as dust fell. In seconds, she was ascending the mountain at a remarkable speed, the wind blasting against her chestnut hair.

One more pull and release, and she could almost touch the mountain's top. While she began to fall, circular platforms of blue appeared below each of her bare foot, and she jumped, hands grasping the mountain top and pulling herself up as the platforms disappeared.

"Whew."

She exhaled as her tense figure relaxed, nails receding back to their normal length. She paced forward, bare feet walking over the rubble of the ground without a care as the silver bracelets on her ankles gleaned in the sun's light. Once she reached the mountain's edge, she could see the desolate land.

'Nothing. . .nothing. . .nothing,' Flare thought with disappointment. She was sent up here to scope out the area but all her eyes saw was a land of nothingness. There were sparse beasts, some more mountains, but nothing else. Certainly, if the floor's guardian was somewhere in front of her, she couldn't tell. Which was a problem because, being a beastman of the cat tribe, her eyes were excellent to the point that she could at least make out things miles ahead.

"What a disappointment," She muttered as her head swerved about.

Yet, just as she was about to give up her search, her eyes widened as the snowflake beneath her left eye changed into the image of a lightning bolt and her thin tail wagged behind her.

"What the heck? Other dungeoneers?"

Far in the distance, a black bird flew towards three figures that seemed to have just appeared from nowhere. At least she hadn't seen them in her prior glance over. She couldn't make out the figures save for the smallest of details, but she was certain they were three of them.

Flare Shun smirked.

She took several steps back from the mountain's ledge before turning around and running in the direction she came. A few seconds later and she hopped off, the air rushing around her and blowing the blue hoodie she wore. Her body folded, her knees bent, her feet made contact with the dungeon's ground. There was a small thud as her figure unfolded back up as if a spring. A crack upon the floor as she stood and stared at her two companions.

"Guess what I found?" She grinned, her fangs showing as her cat ears twitched.

"I hope it's the floor's guardian?"

The first to speak was a lavender-headed girl. Hair that matched her purple, unamused, eyes above lips that seemed forever in a perpetual frown. She wore a metallic chest plate over black, leather armor, as well as boots of iron. On her waist was a sheath with the silver handle of a sword poking out, and on her chest was the same emblem of their guild that Flare also wore; a shield with a golden blade floating at its center, outlined by black lines.

Flare shook her head, wagging a finger at the girl called Crea Lancelot.

"Nope, that's not it."

The girl in question narrowed her eyes. "That's not it? Then what are you grinning so smugly for? What? Did you find a pair of shoes to put on? Is that what made you excited?"

Flare blinked her eyes, stared momentarily at her bare feet, then back at the 'leader' of their party. The tattoo under her eye morphed into the image of a flame.

"Wow that's harsh, I kinda wanna scratch you right now, you know?" She replied, vein twitching atop her forehead as her nails extended. "Why did they make you the leader anyway?"

"Oh?" Crea raised a brow. "Tell me, which one of us had the faster time?"

Flare was silent.

"What?" Crea scoffed. "Cat's got your tongue?"

Flare rolled her eyes at the girl who stood a head taller than herself. "And yet you were still only second place. What are ya being so proud for?"

The two crossed eyes.

". . ."

Besides them, a certain brown-haired man was silent, watching as sparks formed between the two girls. He almost seemed to have disappeared into the background of their feud.

'Again?'

David Bowman sighed as he knitted his brows. Sometimes, he wondered, how this haphazard team formed through Vanguard's will was supposed to one day be the new forerunners of the guild. He was new himself but, these girls. . .they simply did not seem to get along at all. In the end, he had to placate them once again.

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"Look, you two," He said.

They turned their sharp gazes to him.

"Umm. . ." He paused, "How about we just focus on the floor for now, yes?"

To him, being a dungeoneer was nothing more than a job. An occupation he had decided suited him. Joining Vanguard, as well, was nothing more than a significant career choice. This was why, to some degree, he couldn't understand the two girls. Were their screws loose? One of them seemed to have decided to climb the dungeon for the adventure; she was certainly going to die some time soon, he surmised. The other seemed to be climbing for strength. She. . .yeah, he mentally nodded to himself, she would surely die sooner or later too.

'I shouldn't try and become overly attached to them,' He thought, 'They'll definitely die soon.'

What kept people who climbed alive? David had researched the occupation of dungeoneers for a long time before deciding to become one. He knew the basic truth: Those who saw it as a job that required carefulness tended to survive the longest. Perhaps not thrive, but survive they would.

"Being a dungeoneer is a job, first and foremost, right? So why don't we just do a good job so that we can get paid well?" He produced a hollow laugh.

The two girls stared at him, entirely unamused. In fact, they seemed confused. Perhaps lost to his words. David, on the other hand, thought that he might just be the only sane one out of the trio.

"You. . ." Flare narrowed her eyes as the tattoo of a flame under her eye changed to that of a snowflake. "You're not interesting at all."

He frowned. What was this girl on about now? Certainly, he looked average in all ways. He was neither short nor tall. He was neither buff nor thin. And, though he could control mana, all mages would roll over in their graves if he was to call himself one of them. Yet, at the very least, the girl did not need to be that blunt.

"Perhaps he isn't. . ." Crea nodded.

". . ." David was speechless. Why did the two only agree when it came to that? As he pondered this fact, Crea continued speaking.

"But I agree with him. We should focus on this floor for the time being, shouldn't we?" She said, then turned to Flare. "Alright, tell us, what did you find?"

Flare smiled as she pointed through the mountain behind her.

"Three other dungeoneers," She said, "That way."

Her two companion's eyes widened. Naturally, it was a first for them. They were, after all, beginners. This would be the first time they would meet others within Alos's dungeon.

"That might be the key to solving this floor then," Crea said. "Let's head over there."

She turned around and made way for the valleys entrance.

"Right," Crea muttered quietly as she walked, "Good job."

Flare raised a brow as she followed the girl who would be her party leader for as long as she stayed in Vanguard. She thought it interesting. She didn't think herself the best, but she had been surprised when Crea Lancelot beat her time in the dungeoneer assessment test. Yet, what had surprised her most was that two more people had tied for first place ahead of even that overly-serious girl.

'If I can.' She grinned as her fangs showed. 'I'd love to meet em.'

Their team was composed of the second, third, and fourth best new dungeoneers respectively from Crea Lancelot, herself, and David Bowman; all three had passed the assessment in under thirty minutes. She wondered what the two strongest individuals above them were like.

'Hopefully,' She thought, 'They're interesting.'

She walked faster, bare feet walking over the rough terrain as she followed after the girl whose lavender hair reached her hips.

"Seriously though, why did they put you in charge? I thought the guild usually made veterans lead the beginner teams?" Flare asked. This time, genuinely curious. Even if she hardly knew much about the guild, she knew at least that much. "They wouldn't change that just because you came in second, right? That'd be hilarious, but that'd also be kinda sad."

She turned to David. The person she had already slapped the label 'encyclopedia' onto. She had lied when she said he wasn't interesting. He was someone who she could throw all her questions onto, and he always seemed to have a way with words. Somehow, he was also worth teasing sometimes.

The man shook his head. "They wouldn't."

Crea Lancelot stared at her two companions for a moment as thoughts swam through her head.

"There you go frowning again." Flare shook her head. "Do you ever smile? Why don'tcha gimme a nice big smile? Stretch those facial muscles hmm?"

The girl turned her gaze back forward, disregarding those words.

"The guild's testing me," She said, "To be more precise, the guild's testing all three of us, but mostly me."

To Crea Lancelot, climbing the dungeon was only a path on the road to become the best. If she had to complete the guild's test, she would do so, no matter what teammates she was given. No matter what or who decided to stand in her way.

'In this world, only your strength matters. Whether through money or might,' She thought, 'Without either, even your freedom becomes bleak.'