[Golden Sunwood Tavern]
As one of only two taverns in Mute Wind Town, the settlement closest to the Amethyst Dungeon, the Golden Sunwood Tavern was completely different from its competitor, which sold cheap liquor and was packed all day with all sorts of riffraff.
Here, every glass was filled with rich, aromatic, smooth-tasting fine wine.
Naturally, the higher prices meant that the customers who came here were all adventurers with real strength.
However, today's atmosphere was strange.
Adventurers who would normally sit scattered throughout the tavern were inexplicably clustered on the right side, making the four people sitting alone on the left look as if they had rented out half the place.
After all, that group was none other than Silver Thorn—a diamond-rank adventurer team where every member was above Level 50.
It wasn't that the Silver Thorn team was especially domineering. Anyone with eyes could tell something was off about their mood, and no one wanted to provoke them at a time like this.
So everyone drank quietly on the other side, harboring a mix of fear and curiosity, hoping to overhear a bit of gossip to serve as conversation fodder for the next few days.
Among the Silver Thorn team, the most eye-catching member was undoubtedly the half-dragon Garr.
Standing at 2.3 meters tall, he was still taller sitting down than most people were standing. Combined with his reinforced heavy armor, he looked exactly like a city wall.
In fact, he was the wall that protected the team. In countless battles, Garr had always stood at the front, blocking the tide of enemies and creating a safe output environment for his teammates.
The only regret was that Garr hadn't inherited a breath weapon from his dragonkin mother. Otherwise, if he blasted enemies unexpectedly while holding the line, even a brutish beastman war general would die on the spot.
But at this moment, there wasn't the slightest hint of bravery in what the half-dragon was saying.
"It's over, it's over. I don't think we can stay in the United Kingdom anymore.
Boss, if you ask me, this mission is impossible anyway. We might as well slip off to the Western Isles while they're not paying attention. Once we come out of the dungeon, we won't have any chance to run!"
A sharp blade bounced off Garr's chest armor and landed on the table.The shadow-walker Night Owl casually played with two more throwing knives at his fingertips.
This elf—who had slit the throats of countless monsters with flying blades—was now staring at his team's frontliner as if he were looking at a pile of goblin dung.
"Did you forget that last time you just sat on a boat for two days and nearly vomited your stomach out?
And you want to go to the islands? You'd probably die on the ship halfway there.
Besides, the mission hasn't even started yet. Completing it means getting an entire city!"
When Night Owl mentioned a city, his eyes gleamed with excitement. Heaven knew why a pure-blood elf was so obsessed with owning a human city.
"That's only if you can actually finish it!
They said we have to bring the person back safe and sound, but it's already been half a month!
Don't tell me you don't know what happens to adventurers who get trapped in the Amethyst Dungeon and somehow don't die.
Best case? Fifth-floor parasitic trees. Ninth-floor tentacle nests. Even if you rescue them, their brains are already mush.
Do you really think the duke would accept that as 'safe and sound'?
The best possible outcome is that she was caught by wandering beastmen and turned into reserve meat. By now, she's probably already had most of her limbs removed.
And that's assuming she didn't mentally collapse from despair first.
This mission is basically impossible!
When Duke Alama comes knocking personally, Night Owl, you'll shadow-jump away, and the three of us will be beaten to death!"
It wasn't strange for Garr to fear Duke Alama so much.
Ten years ago, when everyone present was still gold or silver rank, Alama had already been a Level 70 powerhouse, standing at the very peak of humanity.
Don't be fooled by the fact that all four of them were in their early fifties now, only ten or so levels below him.
In reality, even if they were tied together, they would barely be enough to warm up a max-level boss like the duke.
The higher the level, the more terrifying the gap became. And someone like Duke Alama—who had been max level for years—was guaranteed to have a massive number of high-level skills.
Otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to hold the border against the Empire's pressure for so many years.
"Enough, Garr. Stop."
Seeing Garr continue his defeatist rant, the captain Nova had no choice but to interrupt him.
"There's still a chance we can bring her back. If her mind's broken, there's nothing we can do—but if it's just missing arms or legs, a bottle of limb regeneration potion will fix that.
The risk is high, but so is the reward.
We can't give up without even seeing her.
Let's gamble. If we really only bring back a fool, I'll go face the duke alone. You guys take the opportunity to run."
In truth, Nova knew Garr wasn't wrong.
Ten years ago, he would've chosen to flee as well—hide out in the Western Isles or slip into elf or dwarf territory. No matter how strong Duke Alama was, he wouldn't be able to touch him.
But now, that wasn't an option.
The United Kingdom and the Hermit Empire were constantly clashing, and it was clear that full-scale war was approaching. At a time like this, neither elves nor dwarves would casually allow powerful foreign forces into their lands.
The only place left was the Western Isles.
But those islands weren't exactly friendly territory either.
The fog farther west was expanding, swallowing island after island, and the slave-owning lords there were panicking.
If a diamond-rank adventurer team with nowhere else to go showed up, they'd absolutely be coerced into holding back the fog.
And that job had a far higher death rate than dungeon exploration.
After weighing everything, it was better to gamble here—
Gamble on rescuing the duke's daughter intact,or gamble that even if she came back mentally broken, the duke wouldn't immediately beat them to death.
Still, the team wasn't a dictatorship. A collective decision was needed.
"Same rules as always. Vote. I vote to enter the dungeon."
"I want to be a city lord!" Night Owl voted in favor as well.
"I still think we should run." The half-dragon clearly didn't want to gamble.
"Ivan?"
The three of them turned together toward the fourth member, who hadn't said a word the entire time and had been fiddling with something under the table—
Ivan Netz.
The halfling's small body was almost swallowed by the edge of the wooden table. When he didn't speak, he barely had any presence at all.
But as the team's main DPS mage, his opinion mattered just as much.
"Finally got it out!"
A damaged, deformed, discarded magic crystal was tossed onto the table. Ivan eagerly pulled out a brand-new B-rank magic crystal, snapping it into the empty slot in his abdomen with a click.
Instantly, magic power surged in from all directions, flowing through the crystal into Ivan's limbs and bones.
The violent torrent of mana washed over every nerve synapse, throwing him into a hazy, euphoric trance.
"Ah—oh~"
The halfling mage's satisfied moan echoed through the entire tavern, drawing strange looks from everyone around.
Night Owl clenched the throwing knives in his hand tightly, barely stopping them from flying straight into this disgraceful teammate's neck.
"This magic-tumor idiot…"
Watching the archmage opposite him with his eyes rolled back and even starting to drool, Nova could only feel that leading this team was exhausting beyond words.
"The mission can't be delayed. Let's say it's two to one.
Garr, carry Ivan on your back. For the first few floors, Night Owl and I will be enough."
Garr sighed. He didn't continue arguing, but simply extended a hand toward Nova.
"?"
"Magic resistance potions! Did you forget the last time he set off a magic explosion point-blank on my back and nearly sent us both to the afterlife?!"