Reever hesitated for a long moment, staring at the floating panel as if the system itself had made a mistake. For a brief, hopeful second, he thought the list would refresh, that more names would spill out once the lag corrected itself. The system had glitched before, and considering how absurdly large this world was, it would not have been surprising.
Nothing changed.
The panel remained still, stubbornly displaying only two available teams.
Reever exhaled slowly. Disappointment crept in, quiet but persistent. With the scale of this world, with millions of teams scattered across continents larger than Earth itself, ending up with only two options felt almost insulting. Still, sulking would not change reality. After a moment of reluctant acceptance, he focused his attention and began reading through the first team on the list.
Bronze Bros Agency
Date of formation: Two weeks ago.
Team leader's name: Broxy. Master I ranked player.
Number of teammates: 98.
Number of squads: 12.
Number of teammates per squad: 8.
Each squad leader must be at least Elite II rank or above.
Requirements for joining: Veteran ranked player.
Registration cost: 1500 CP.
Reever scanned the details carefully, line by line. At first glance, the requirements did not seem harsh. In fact, for a newly formed team, they were surprisingly organized. Twelve squads, nearly a hundred members, and a Master-ranked leader meant the foundation was already solid. It was the kind of team that would likely grow fast if managed well.
Still, there was something that bothered him.
Scrolling further, his suspicion was confirmed.
Monthly contribution required: 1% of all monthly earnings.
Reever frowned slightly. One percent did not sound like much on paper, but percentages had a habit of becoming painful once earnings rose. Beyond that, there were mandatory meetings unless a member was actively in a match, and compulsory participation in at least one squad hunting game every month. The structure was strict enough to keep things efficient, but restrictive enough to slowly tighten around a player's freedom.
They did not care much about what members did outside those obligations, but the leash was still there.
"This one wants discipline," Reever muttered internally. "And discipline usually comes with someone breathing down your neck."
He shifted his attention to the second option, curiosity flickering despite himself.
Hounds With No Bounds
Date of formation: One day ago.
Team leader's name: _hell_hound. Master I ranked player.
Number of teammates: 3.
Number of squads: 1.
Number of teammates per squad: 3.
Reever blinked once, then twice.
Three people.
That was not a team. That was barely a group chat.
He continued reading.
There is only one squad, with the team leader acting as the squad leader.
No rank requirements for joining.
Requirements: Any player is welcome, as long as you believe you are strong.
Cost for joining: Free until further notice.
This time, Reever paused for longer.
The team was practically newborn, formed just yesterday according to the system. No fees, no rank restrictions, no quotas, no forced grind cycles. The only listed obligations were a compulsory group meeting once every two months and something oddly named a "friendship bracelet," meant to symbolize team pride.
At first, his instinct was immediate rejection.
Too new. Too small. Too unstable.
And yet, the longer he stared at the name, the more it gnawed at him.
Hounds with no bounds.
The message was clear. Freedom above all else.
Reever leaned back slightly, his thoughts spiraling inward. Right now, he could not afford attention. His bot status alone made him a walking anomaly. Joining a large or influential team meant exposure, scrutiny, and questions he could not answer. Until he reached Master rank and reclaimed his humanity, staying low-key was not just a preference. It was survival.
He had briefly entertained the idea of forming his own team. That fantasy died quickly once he read the requirements. Master rank minimum. A registration fee of one million CP. An annual maintenance fee of a hundred thousand CP.
He was still a Rookie.
The math alone laughed at him.
With a resigned breath, Reever made his decision.
This was not about power right now. It was about breathing room.
The Hounds gave him exactly that.
"Yo, 067," a familiar voice called out. Elderwood's grin was already in place as he walked over, patting Reever's back with casual familiarity. "Which team you going for? Told you already, I'm locking in my choice."
He summoned his own panel with a dramatic flourish. "The Unknown Club. How's that for mystery?"
Reever glanced at the name and nodded faintly. It suited Elderwood far too well.
Elderwood leaned over, squinting at Reever's list, then froze.
"…Like hell, brav."
He straightened up sharply. "Is there something wrong with your mind? We talked about joining a good team. One that helps you rank faster. What is this nonsense? Hounds with no bounds? That sounds like a joke."
Reever remained calm. "It was formed yesterday."
Elderwood scoffed, then paused, his expression shifting as the implication sank in. "Oh. So that's why."
He scratched the back of his head, then sighed. "Yeah… I guess that makes sense. You always liked freedom. No chains, no babysitters."
He glanced back at the name. "Hounds with no bounds. Guess you'll be a hound with no leash. Can't say it doesn't fit you."
Elderwood waved him over toward the counter. "Come on. We hand these in, and within two days the system sends feedback. You'll know if you qualified."
As they walked, Reever smirked. "You gonna visit your ex after this? Pretty sure she misses you."
"Don't start," Elderwood groaned. "I made my choice. I'm sticking with it. Besides, I already found someone else."
His grin returned instantly. "Beautiful lady. Thick too."
Without waiting, he summoned a panel and shoved it toward Reever's face. A Viking-like woman stared back, clad in crimson armor, her build absurdly powerful. Twin ponytails framed a surprisingly cute face, completely mismatched with the rest of her intimidating presence.
Reever stared. "…What is it with you and Viking ladies?"
"Come on, bro," Elderwood protested. "I thought you'd support me. I moved on. Love is blind. And don't lie, she's not bad-looking."
"No need," Reever interrupted. "I respect you."
Elderwood laughed. "Maybe I'll introduce you to some better people. Big brother Crimson knows plenty. Man's got options."
Reever shook his head as they exited the mayor's building. The guards removed the black wrist devices without a word and allowed them to leave.
"Enough nonsense," Reever said. "I've got a rank-up match to play. Time to break through to Veteran."