The moment the nine figures emerged from the red portal, the crowd outside the Feral Dungeon stilled—like the air itself had forgotten how to move.
The streaks of light faded into tangible bodies, and there they stood.
Nine players, each cloaked in newly radiating strength. From head to toe, their equipment shimmered with refined edges and aura—Fine Gold gear glinting like fire under moonlight. Malik at the front, composed and unreadable. Kenny beside him, her towering figure gripping the Frost Greatsword. Young Star's twin sabers sheathed but glowing faintly red. White Emperor's plated chestplate now bore the distinct crest of a fine-gold armor kit, and Tipa clutched a storm-forged javelin across his back, its runes blinking silently.
No one spoke for the first few seconds. The quiet wasn't respectful—it was disbelief.
Then came the whisper.
"They're not from any known guild…"
"The hell? That's White Emperor, right? I've seen him get bodied by Bronze Mobs before—what the actual—?"
"They were in there for hours… and they came out stronger?"
"No way. Look at their levels—17, 16… even the lowest is level 11! What the hell kind of power-leveling is that?"
Greed was like fog. It rolled through the crowd silently, sinking into minds, making some grip their weapons tighter, others subtly check their mana reserves, angles, and spacing.
"That Greatsword… that's a dungeon-exclusive drop, isn't it?"
"The armor. The rings. I swear that's a Dark Gold ring on that girl's hand."
"They're unaffiliated. No guild logo. No cloak. No color tag. They're rogue."
Like vultures that had spotted a dying stag, several players—mainly solo wanderers, scouts, and rogue PvPers—began circling closer. Slow steps. Blank stares that tried to hide hunger.
It didn't take long for the more arrogant ones to think they were being subtle.
Two players from Crimson Spire, a mid-tier PvP guild from Dawnroot City, were already whispering. One of them, a rogue in crimson-plated leggings, tilted his chin.
"If we hit fast, take out the girl first—she's the tank. Once she falls, the others scatter. I've got a CC scroll too. Easy pickings."
"Wait." His partner hissed. "That black-haired dude… something's off about him. He hasn't said a word."
Another group nearby, clad in Earthbone green, were busy assessing the weapons.
"They've got at least three dark gold pieces. Maybe more. At auction rates, that's a thousand gold coin for a full set…"
"Could be from Emerald Crest. Or maybe a secret sub-division of Ironfront…"
"They're not. Look." One player pointed. "No uniformity in their sets. They're a loose team, a mix. This wasn't funded by a guild. This was earned."
"Or are they part of an adventurer team we haven't heard about?".
"No..Their team was form here, one of them was our former party member. One of them must have a godly item that allow them to conquer the Dungeon."
Godly item
The word sparked something.. If they could get this godly item then they can also conquer the Feral Dungeon.
And suddenly, the crowd no longer looked like spectators.
Now they looked like jackals.
And Malik noticed it all. The twitching fingers. The calculating eyes. How some players started fanning out and forming an unspoken half-circle around them.
Even his team began to feel it.
"Uhm…" Young Star swallowed. "Boss… this crowd's not here to clap for us."
"No shit," Slicer muttered, gripping his sword.
"Should I raise my shield?" Kenny asked, her voice steady but her fingers tightening around the Frost Greatsword.
"No," Malik replied softly. "We let them act first."
That was when a bold one finally stepped forward.
A tall warrior with the sigil of Blackroot Town's Ash Knights branded on his shoulder. He stood straight and addressed the team—but his voice aimed at one person.
"You… You're Kenny, right? Heard you cleared the boss yourself. That Frost Greatsword… it yours?"
Kenny raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"
"You affiliated?"
"No guild," she replied flatly.
"Oh?" He turned slightly, raising his voice just a touch more. "So y'all really out here running dungeons without a guild? What a miracle. And here I thought all the strong loot belonged to the strong guilds."
That sentence echoed like a match hitting dry wood.
A few chuckles.
A few weapon clicks.
Young Star was already stepping forward, fury in his veins, but Malik's hand shot out, stopping him.
"Easy."
The warrior from Ash Knights took a step closer.
"You look geared for war. But I don't see any war behind you. No backers. No alliance tags. Just nine rogue adventurers dressed like lords."
Kenny stepped forward now. "You want something?"
He smirked. "Let's just say, some folks here feel… underpaid. You stroll out here with more loot than most of us have ever seen. No guild protection. No banners. What's to stop any of us from making a little… redistribution?"
That was when several players unsheathed their weapons—some subtly, others with loud flair. Fire spells were already warming in palms. Bows drawn with just enough slack to pretend it wasn't hostile.
But no one noticed the quiet man in the back.
A man clad in matte black armor, almost blending into the shadows cast by the cliff walls. His eyes scanned the field like a hawk. Calculated. Precise.
He stepped forward without a word, and instantly, a dozen other cloaked figures moved behind him like silent shadows—Assassins. All of them cloaked in the colors of Black Crescent, an elite guild known in whispers across the Realm. One of the most feared assassination networks in the game.
The man's name appeared just as he passed the inner ring of onlookers.
Void Reaper
Level 15 – Assassin
Guild: Black Crescent
The moment his name flickered into the air, half the circling players flinched.
Void Reaper walked past everyone and stopped right in front of Kenny… then tilted his head and slowly turned to Malik.
"You're the real leader, aren't you?"