Four-Star Mission

After meeting Old Walker, Rhode didn't leave the Mercenary Association right away. His mercenary group was still short a main tank and a damage dealer, after all. If he could find a defensive fighter, like a shield warrior, his upcoming missions would be much easier. Unfortunately, he didn't find any mercenaries who fit the bill this time. People in that line of work always stood on the front line in battle, facing far greater danger and pressure than other mercenaries. Usually, only soldiers chose such a profession. But those people either had no interest in the mercenary life or had already been recruited by one of the major mercenary groups, so they were hard to come by. Rhode took Lize around the hall and spoke with several swordsmen, but none met his requirements, so he turned them all down.

In the end, Rhode had no choice but to give up on his original plan and focus on improving the two of their abilities first. There wasn't much untapped potential to be found in Deepstone City at the moment. A few mercenary squads were quite capable, but he couldn't afford to hire them, and he was also worried that their numerical advantage might lead them to take over and start getting ideas above their station. So Rhode decided to set the matter aside for now, since he had something more urgent to deal with.

That was the mercenary group's points.

Lize was right. Their most pressing need was to earn as many points as possible and avoid being forcibly disbanded during the winter recess. That was their first priority, and the issue Rhode needed to focus on most. At the very least—at the very least, they couldn't still be sitting at zero.

Mercenary group points came from missions, which fell into two categories... In the first, a client posted a mission with the Mercenary Association, and a mercenary group took it on. Once the mission was completed, they received the reward the client had deposited with the Association. In the second, the client approached a mercenary group directly. The two parties signed a contract at the Association, and then the group carried out the mission.

Points were determined by mission rank. The Mercenary Association divided commissions into six ranks: ordinary missions, followed by one- to five-star missions. Each rank earned a different number of points, and the rules were strict.

Mercenary squads could only take ordinary, one-star, and two-star missions. Completing an ordinary mission earned one point, a one-star mission earned two, and a two-star mission earned three. Mercenary groups only earned points for two-, three-, and four-star missions. They could also take ordinary and one-star missions, but even if they completed them, the Association wouldn't award them any points. The same applied to the highest tier, mercenary guilds: they earned points only for completing three-, four-, and five-star missions. Missions below that rank earned them nothing.

These rules were set by the Mercenary Association, and no one was allowed to break them. In other words, even if a mercenary squad or group completed a five-star mission, the Association wouldn't award them any points. But that was exceedingly unlikely anyway, because five-star missions were almost always extremely dangerous. Even many large mercenary guilds faced near-certain death taking them on. For mercenary groups and squads far weaker than those guilds, the odds were even worse.

Under these restrictions, each mercenary group had its own approach. Some, like the Blue Collar Mercenary Group, diligently took on the lowest-ranked and safest missions, accumulating points one at a time to ensure their survival. Others followed the principle of "stay quiet until the moment to make a stunning entrance"—they either did nothing or went all in on a major job for a huge haul.

Rhode chose the second approach. His group was too small to earn points quickly by painstakingly completing the lowest-ranked missions, even if those were safe. As the saying went, two fists couldn't defeat four hands; there was no way to overcome their numerical disadvantage. Since a steady, risk-free path wasn't an option, their only choice was to take on high-ranked missions whenever possible and earn a large number of points.

But when Rhode placed the mission titled "Pavel Cemetery" in front of Hank, the old man from the Mercenary Association stared at the young man before him as if he'd seen a ghost—as though he'd just spotted a walking fossil of a dinosaur.

"Are you sure you want to take this mission, young man?"

Old Hank wiped his glasses, then looked at Rhode with a grave expression.

"This is a four-star mission. Even a fully staffed mercenary group would be hard-pressed to come out ahead."

As he spoke, the old man frowned and tapped the desk.

"I'm not trying to scare you, but both the Blue Valley Mercenary Group and the Black Lion Mercenary Group took this mission before. They had plenty of capable people among them, too. And what happened? They suffered heavy casualties, and their leaders barely made it out alive. They sent more than a dozen people and still couldn't handle it. You're going to take it on with... just a few people? It's good to be ambitious, young man, but..."

"I don't see any reason to hesitate."

Rhode didn't take Old Hank's warning to heart. The people of this world had a very different standard for what made someone "capable" from that of players, so there was no point making a comparison. Besides the high points, Rhode chose this mission for its objective and reward.

Pavel Cemetery lay in the mountains north of Deepstone City. It was an abandoned cemetery where an undead mage named Pavel lurked. The mission was to kill the mage and his followers. All they had to do to complete it was bring back Pavel's head.

Rhode had his reasons for choosing this mission. Besides the high-rank points, he had the cards in his hand to consider. Frankly, with the combat strength he currently had, his team was particularly effective against undead creatures. Sending them to fight bandits and brigands would actually cause them more trouble. His other objective was the skill book in the possession of the undead mage named Pavel.

Word had it that Pavel had once been a highly respected bishop, but after certain incidents that the public had been delighted to hear about, he fell into darkness and became an undead mage. He possessed a holy book called the Book of Holiness, and that book was Rhode's target, because it contained the Spirit Master's skills.

This was a good place to explain the differences between players and NPCs when it came to leveling up on the Dragon Soul Continent.

Players had clear advantages in every respect. Because they had skill points, they could raise their skill levels however they pleased. Someone like Rhode could have the skill proficiency of an NPC in their thirties or forties while only being level ten. NPCs, however, couldn't do that. With the exception of a handful of geniuses and rulers, most NPCs had skills commensurate with their level. The difference in strength between the two was obvious.

On the other hand, NPCs had an advantage in their talents. Unlike players, whose talents were divided into categories, the talents of many NPC professions were combined, and they could even choose them freely. Plenty of players envied that. Their own talents were separated, and skill-point restrictions meant they couldn't freely choose as NPCs could. To say nothing of the many talents exclusive to NPCs—just seeing those was enough to make players jealous.

There was also a huge difference in how the two sides leveled up. Players leveled up by gaining experience, but NPCs leveled up more like they were having a sudden cosmic awakening. In their day-to-day lives, they didn't gain experience or level up. There were only two ways to make them level up—one was to improve your affinity with an NPC until they gave you a mission. Once you completed it, their level would rise instantly. The other was to give an NPC a skill book. They had no level requirements or other restrictions when learning skills, so even a level-five NPC would immediately reach level ten after learning a level-ten skill.

Of course, it took time.

If Rhode could get his hands on the book, Lize wouldn't have to worry about anything until she reached level forty. The Book of Holiness also contained many genuine offensive holy spells, which could make up for the girl's mediocre attack power and turn her into a proper cleric, one capable of fighting on the front line. And considering that a war with the Kingdom of Night was inevitable in the future, it was also important to get the people around him familiar with how to fight the undead as soon as possible.

Without those reasons, Rhode wouldn't want to spend all his time traipsing through piles of corpses. He was still alive, after all, and had little interest in the undead... In fact, if he could, he'd rather hire a mage. Even an apprentice would do... But unfortunately, mages were even rarer than Spirit Masters. Most never left their homes, let alone visited the Mercenary Association...

"I've made up my mind, Uncle Hank. Please don't worry. We'll complete the mission."

"I hope so."

Seeing that he couldn't talk Rhode out of it despite all his efforts, Uncle Hank sighed and shook his head helplessly. Then he bent down and carefully wrote something on the paper before nodding to Rhode.

"All right, Mr. Rhode. You're registered. Once you've completed the mission, just bring back the proof listed in the commission requirements. After we examine it and confirm it's genuine, we'll give you the reward."

"Understood."

Rhode nodded and said nothing more. He soon turned and left. Uncle Hank watched the slightly gaunt figure disappear into the crowd, then shook his head helplessly.

"Young people are so reckless. Taking on a mission this dangerous... Sigh, I don't even know what to say. The poor thing, still so young, and yet..."

Muttering to himself, Hank picked up the wine jug beside him. He didn't notice the figure that had appeared behind him at some point.

As the figure appeared, a clear, bright voice rang out.

"What's so foolish, Mr. Hank?"

"Ah! M-Miss!"

At the sound of that voice, Hank jumped in fright. He awkwardly put down the jug, turned around, and forced a bitter smile at the figure behind him.

"Miss, what brings you here... I thought..."

"I came to ask how you were getting on with the matter I asked you to handle."

"Well..."

At the question, a fine sheen of sweat appeared on Old Hank's forehead. He pulled out a handkerchief, wiped his face, and then continued, bracing himself.

"Well... I'm doing my best, Miss. You can see for yourself—the people around here really aren't up to much lately. I still haven't found anyone suitable, so..."

"I see."

Her beautiful voice, like a bird singing softly in the morning, rose slightly.

"Then what did the person who was just here want?"

"Oh, that kid."

At that, Old Hank's expression changed at once, and he began to sigh and complain.

"Sigh, that fellow really has no idea how high the sky is. Miss, just listen..."

Perhaps he had finally found someone willing to listen. Old Hank quickly told her about Rhode taking on the four-star mission. Naturally, he also complained that the young man was arrogant and not at all grounded. But as a member of the Mercenary Association, he wouldn't say that Rhode was sure to die there. Mercenaries were sensitive about such things. They already risked their lives for a living; wishing someone dead on top of that would be downright heartless.

"I see."

After hearing Old Hank's complaints, the figure chuckled softly.

"How interesting. A mercenary group with only two people dares to take on a four-star mission. That's certainly a rare sight, isn't it?"

"Indeed. And I heard that Sereck thinks highly of that kid, too. I really don't know what Lord Sereck sees in that arrogant little brat..."

"Uncle Hank."

Before Old Hank could finish, the figure abruptly interrupted him.

"I'd like to ask you for a favor. Would you be willing to help me?"

"Of course. If it's something I can do, you can count on me."

"Good. Then..."

The mercenaries in the hall grew noisier, but after hearing what the figure wanted, Old Hank's face turned deathly pale.