Although Hart said it was just an ordinary gathering and there’s no need to dress too formally, Kemp still changed into a new outfit, repeatedly drawing deep breaths to ease his nervous emotions.
Looking at the door before him, Kemp felt like a recent graduate standing at the office door, waiting to hear the interviewer call his na, starting a torture that felt like an interrogation.
"Are you nervous?"
The girl said as she gently wrapped her arm around Kemp, smiling at him.
"A little," Kemp nodded, tugging at his collar, feeling sowhat suffocated, "Aren’t you nervous, Shelley?"
Shelley said, "I’m alright. Didn’t Hart say they wouldn’t eat us?"
"I think they’re just too lazy to shave Hart’s fur," Kemp joked, trying to ease his own tension, "Just think about all that fur Hart has; trying to eat him would be such a hassle."
Shelley was amused by Kemp’s words and, seeing him more relaxed, tapped on the door and then pulled it open.
As new mbers of the Sixth Group, this was Kemp and Shelley’s first year on the job. They were still at the First Stage of Condensers and as newcors, they didn’t participate in dangerous actions, spending most of their ti on routine patrols.
The Undying Club wasn’t unfamiliar to them. Most Field Staff knew there was such a place in Oubos of Oath City, filled with Undead that had lived countless years and even a forr Night Race Lord among them.
With various filters and rumors embellishing it, the Undying Club was, in so respects, more frightening than the Great Rift. To them, this place was not just a dragon’s den but a hellish demon cave.
Every Field Staff mber avoided it until recently when a few staff mbers not only didn’t steer clear but ford a good friendship with the Undying Club.
Kemp still rembered a sudden Extraordinary Disaster a few months ago, where under ergency orders, even a rookie like him stepped into battle to eliminate demons that erged from the shattered reality.
Back then, Kemp noticed a guy with a sunshade; unlike others who were fully armored, this person seed like he just ca off a sunny beach.
"He’s the Night Race Lord."
When Kemp asked his team leader, Yas replied expressionlessly.
Kemp’s face imdiately froze; weren’t these Undead content inside the Undying Club? They even ventured out like this, standing openly here, and everyone acted like it was nothing.
Recalling earlier rumors, had these Undead infiltrated the Order Bureau? The scene was shocking to Kemp; soon after, he saw the Night Race Lord turn into a fireball running across the wilderness, screaming and searching for shadows.
The Night Race Lord didn’t seem so terrifying... well, probably.
After everything ended and a period passed, Hart was discharged and closely involved with the Special Operations Group. As if caring for the two newcors, he smoothly introduced Kemp and Shelley around.
And then Kemp saw the person.
Bologue Lazarus.
Bologue himself might not feel anything, but now his na resonated throughout the Field Operations Departnt all thanks to the annual Best Newcor Award posters plastered on the notice board. It’s right at the entrance where almost every passing Field Staff can see.
The tradition of the annual Best Newcor Award has been around for a long ti, and nobody took much notice until its promotional poster introduced Bologue’s work history to prove the award’s worth.
— This year’s Newcor Award has an overwhelmingly high value.
Bologue’s first achievent upon joining was single-handedly destroying a Man-eater and slaying a King’s Secret Sword at the Prayer Believer Tier, confiscating a Secret Sword. Over the following year, he completed countless actions, including two marked as Extraordinary Disasters.
Due to confidentiality provisions, tilines and reality fractures were archived, and when publicly announced, they were only lightly marked as Extraordinary Disasters. Bologue may not mind, but when Kemp saw these, he was almost so shocked he fainted.
Extraordinary Disaster.
Bologue probably thought nothing of it having experienced it multiple tis, but for other operations groups, especially newcors like Kemp, among all the actions of the Order Bureau, aside from war actions, Extraordinary Disasters are the deadliest. Experiencing one and returning alive was considered legendary, yet Bologue survived two.
Oh, right, Bologue also smoothly completed a promotion. Now he’s already a Prayer Believer.
Kemp always felt a sense of pride; chosen in childhood, raised in the Rhine Alliance’s extraordinary education system, having excellent grades in college, being selected by the Sixth Group even before graduation, set to beco a newbie added to the operations group, completing Alchemy Matrix implantation during the internship, and undergoing various missions.
To achieve all this, Kemp erged from countless competitors; looking back, he often felt proud, considering himself blessed, until last year...
Kemp and Shelley encountered a group of deadly thugs in the Great Rift who obtained a large amount of poor-quality Alchemy Armant from the Gray Trade Association. They overlapped their fire, even Condensers struggled against it, let alone Kemp being an Origin School Condenser, at First Stage, mastering fewer Ethereal Skill and inherently less Ethereal Amount.
The cold reality shattered Kemp’s student fantasies and false pride; he thought he’d die there until reinforcents descended like lightning, driving the thugs to eradication.
Kemp still rembered the cold voice that echoed in the Heart Core Net.
Bologue Lazarus.
Kemp rembered the na, later on, growing vague impressions until he saw him again on the notice board.
Turns out, he’s a newbie too, hired the sa year as Kemp.
Instantly, Kemp felt a sensation beyond words. Since Bologue rescued him, Kemp adjusted his attitude, diligently training and executing tasks daily, surprising even Yas with his effort level.
With determination, Kemp mastered more Ethereal Skill and recently completed a promotion, becoming a Prayer Believer. Among newcors, his promotion speed was already considered fast.
An inexplicable sense of pride surged once more. As Kemp grew complacent, the text on the notice board crushed his arrogant heart.
"Let’s go, Kemp."
Shelley tugged at Kemp, who snapped back, trying his best to muster courage.
This was his first ti at the Undying Club, facing those insane Undead, but now observing, what truly unsettled Kemp was Bologue.
Kemp admitted he was sowhat excessively proud, subconsciously perceiving Bologue as a rival, to then desperately discover he couldn’t catch up even giving his all.
Complex emotions plagued Kemp. Every ti Hart brought Bologue and others to the Sixth Group’s activity room, Kemp beca restless.
"It’s nothing."
Kemp warned himself, "Don’t envy... anything beyond striving to catch up is unethical."
Adjusting his mindset, Kemp felt capable of facing it all, approaching Bologue equitably when Shelley pulled him to push open another door.
Sweet alcohol aroma filled his nose, the light turned dim, and Kemp saw several figures seated at the bar. He instantly recognized Hart.
Where’s Bologue? Where’s Bologue?
Kemp grew nervous again, like a gladiator entering the arena, seeking his opponent, but before he found Bologue, he heard a loud cheer.
"New friends!"
A muscular blond man, perfectly sculpted like a bronze statue, leaped from behind the bar into a beam of white light. He hung firmly on a steel pole, sequins glittering on his clothes, making him look like a jewel.
Kemp froze, confirming this fellow on the steel pole was the Night Race Lord he saw earlier.
Confetti draped over Kemp and Shelley, and soon Hart’s towering form was within reach.
"You’ve finally arrived."
Hart hugged both of them, bringing them before the bar, accompanied by cheerful dance music. A black cat jumped onto the bar, in the darkness, a skeleton stepped forward.
Kemp’s muscles tightened all over, even the normally relaxed Shelley was stunned; everyone’s face wore a joyful smile, and the infernal singing rose incessantly.
"Barila~"
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