New Party

Alice didn’t answer right away.

She stood by the tall window of Quin’s office, arms folded, watching clouds slide past the floating island,like passing ships. From up here, everything looked clean. Controlled. Safe.

That, somehow, made it harder.

Quin waited. He always did. That was part of the pressure. Silence as leverage.

Alice finally exhaled.

“…I’ll take the elite party.”

Quin’s eyebrows rose a fraction. He did not smile.

Alice turned to face him, jaw set. “But not your way. Not entirely.”

He leaned back slightly in his chair. “I assumed there would be conditions.”

“There are,” Alice said. “Several.”

“Go on.”

She lifted a finger. “First. I pick the members.”

That did it.

Quin frowned outright. “Alice. That is not how this works. These are my people. Carefully assembled. Balanced. Tested.”

“And I’m the one who has to trust them in a dungeon,” Alice shot back. “I’m the one who has to sleep knowing they’re watching my back. Not you.”

“You are asking for a great deal of latitude.”

“I’m telling you what I need,” she replied. “If I don’t get it, I walk. I’ll take the sponsorship instead and you can plaster my name on banners like a mascot.”

That was a low blow.

Quin’s jaw tightened. He considered her in silence, fingers steepled.

“…Continue,” he said.

Alice swallowed, then raised a second finger. “You pay Leo back for my starting equipment.”

Quin blinked. “That is it?”

“No,” Alice said. “You pay him double.”

That finally earned a short, incredulous laugh. “Double?”

“He spent his own money,” Alice said firmly. “Didn’t ask for help. Didn’t expect anything back. I don’t care if it’s pocket change to you. It mattered to him.”

Quin didn’t hesitate this time. “Agreed.”

Alice paused, surprised. “…That was easy.”

“It is, as you said, nothing,” Quin replied. “And it closes a debt. I respect that.”

Quin nodded, then lifted a third finger. “Full party of five. No fewer.”

Alice nodded slowly. “Noted.”

“All of them over level thirty,” Alice continued. “B-rank. No A-ranks hovering over me. I don’t want babysitters. I want peers.”

His expression sharpened. “You understand what you are asking for.”

“I do.”

Quin sighed, rubbing his temple.

Alice’s shoulders squared. “That’s the price of this. I don’t want to be dragged along. I want to learn. Fast. Hard. With people who don’t have to slow down for me.”

Another long silence.

Finally, Quin nodded once. “Very well. Party of five. All B-rank. Minimum level thirty. You will select the candidates from my pool.”

“Not a curated list,” Alice said immediately.

Quin gave her a look. “You push too far.”

“I push enough,” she corrected. “You trust me or you don’t.”

The air between them felt tight, like a drawn wire.

At last, Quin exhaled. “You will have access to the full roster. If I determine a selection is catastrophically unbalanced, I reserve veto.”

Alice clenched her fists, then slowly relaxed them.

“…Fine.”

Quin nodded, decision made. Panels bloomed into existence beside his desk, one after another, each filled with dense profiles. Names. Classes. Titles. Kill counts. Mission failures. Survival rates.

Elite.

Dangerous.

Perfect.

Alice stared at them, chest heavy.

This was it.

No more pretending she was doing this alone.

She hated it.

She hated how easy this made things. How impossible it would be now to struggle in anything below A-rank. How fast she would climb. B-rank within a year, probably faster. Her name would carry weight she hadn’t earned.

Her power would never be just hers anymore.

But then she thought of the breeding pits. Of Sayo’s hollow eyes. Of Yamaba shaking with rage she couldn’t afford to unleash.

Principles didn’t mean shit if people died for them.

Alice straightened.

“…I’ll make the best of it,” she said quietly. “I won’t waste what you’re giving me.”

Quin studied her for a long moment.

“I know,” he said. “That is why I agreed.”

The panels shifted, files organizing themselves neatly.

“Take your time,” Quin added. “Choose carefully. These people will shape you as much as you shape them.”

Alice nodded, eyes already scanning names, classes, histories.

She felt older, suddenly.

Heavier.

Quin didn’t bother hiding his sigh.

He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled, eyes flicking from Alice to the hovering slate of documents she’d just shoved forward.

Then he stopped.

Slowly.

“…No,” Quin said.

Alice lifted her chin. “Yes.”

His gaze sharpened. “Absolutely not.”

She didn’t flinch.

“Jett Havoc,” Quin continued, tapping the slate with one finger as if hoping the name might vanish if he pressed hard enough. “Unstable. Loud. Politically allergic. She’s been flagged three times for ‘incipient guild formation.’ Do you have any idea how much trouble she would cause under my banner?”

Alice folded her arms. “Do you have any idea how much damage output she brings?”

“That’s not the point.”

“That’s exactly the point.”

Quin exhaled through his nose, already annoyed. “She’s a bard.”

“She’s a Heavy Metal Bard,” Alice shot back. “There’s a difference.”

He raised a brow. “Enlighten me.”

Alice reached out and swiped the air. The slate exploded into motion, pulling up combat footage, performance graphs, mana signatures.

“Lightning,” Alice said, pointing as crackling blue arcs filled the projection. “Explosive chords. Sonic shockwaves. Crowd control that scales with tempo and emotional intensity.” The image shifted again, showing towering figures of sound and flame. “And this. Summoned constructs. Monsters made of music. She doesn’t just buff the party, she rewrites the battlefield.”

Quin’s mouth thinned. “…She also levels half a city block when she solos.”

“Only sometimes.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

Alice kept going, momentum building now. “She boosts morale, stats, regen, reaction time. She can shatter shields with resonance, short out enemy formations, and drown out hostile spellcasting just by playing louder than them.” She met his eyes, fierce. “You want a B-rank party that can punch above its weight? You want survivability? You want spectacle?”

She jabbed a thumb at the slate. “You want her.”

Quin was quiet for a long moment.

Then, flatly, “She’s planning to form her own guild.”

Alice shrugged. “So are half the people worth recruiting.”

“That’s different.”

“It’s not. You just like the ones who pretend otherwise.”

That earned her a sharp look.

She held it.

Then, because honesty felt easier, she added, “Also she’s hot.”

Quin stared at her.

Alice didn’t look away.

“…Alice.”

“What?” she said defensively. “I’m allowed to have eyes.”

“You are selecting elite party members, not a date.”

“Multitasking is a skill.”

For a heartbeat, he looked like he might actually laugh. Instead, he leaned back again, chair creaking softly as he studied the file with renewed, **** interest.

“She’s chaos,” Quin said at last.

Alice nodded. “Yeah.”

“She won’t follow orders.”

“Good,” Alice replied. “I don’t want soldiers. I want people who think.”

“She will embarrass the guild.”

Alice smiled thinly. “She’ll make us impossible to ignore.”

Silence stretched.

Quin’s fingers drummed once against the armrest.

“…Fine,” he said finally, the word dragged out like it hurt. “Jett Havoc is approved. Provisionally.”

Alice’s shoulders loosened for the first time in minutes.

“But,” Quin added immediately, eyes hard again, “if she stabs me in the back, burns a district, or starts recruiting under my nose”

“I’ll handle it,” Alice said.

He studied her. “You’re sure about this?”

“I didn’t come here to play it safe,” Alice said quietly. “I came here to win.”

Quin held her gaze for a long moment.

Then he nodded once.

“Very well,” he said, already flicking to the next slate. “Let’s see who else you intend to give me a headache over.”

Alice leaned back in her chair, a small, crooked smile tugging at her lips.

(One down.)

Quin pinched the bridge of his nose. “Who’s next.”

Alice leaned forward in her chair, elbows on her knees, already grinning like she knew she was about to cause problems.

“This one,” she said, tapping the next file as it slid into view.

Quin didn’t look at it immediately.

He already knew.

“…No,” he said flatly.

Alice blinked. “You didn’t even read it.”

“I don’t need to,” Quin replied. “Melisse. Incubus. Academy medical wing. Registered healer. Chronic disciplinary notes.” He finally glanced at the file anyway, lips thinning. “And you dropped out of that academy.”

Alice shrugged. “He’s really good at his job.”

“That’s not the concern.”

“He kept half the elite class alive through a mana backlash incident,” Alice shot back. “Three simultaneous trauma cases. No fatalities. Perfect recovery.” She leaned in, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Also, he patched me up twice without filing incident reports.”

Quin’s eyebrow lifted a fraction.

“…That explains some things.”

Alice smirked. “He’s an incredible healer. Battlefield triage. Status stabilization. Mana regulation. You wanted a full B-rank party? He qualifies.”

Quin exhaled slowly. “You are aware he is an incubus.”

“Yes.”

“And that incubus healing is… conditional.”

“Yes.”

“And that tends to result in experience drain.”

Alice tilted her head. “You’re saying this like it’s new information.”

Quin stared at her for a long second.

Then sighed.

“I am warning you,” he said evenly, “not to lose half your progress because you make poor decisions with attractive demons.”

Alice’s smile widened. “I make excellent decisions with attractive demons.”

That earned her a look.

“…He will require a buyout,” Quin continued. “The Academy’s demonic contract is expensive.”

Alice waved a hand. “You own a flying palace.”

Quin paused.

“…Fair.”

He tapped the file once, slow and deliberate. “I will arrange the contract severance. But he joins as a medic first. Anything else is your problem.”

Alice nodded eagerly. “Deal.”

Quin added, dryly, “I will not rescue you from the consequences.”

She grinned. “You never do.”

The file slid into the Confirmed stack.

Two down.

Three to go.

Alice leaned back in her chair, heart pounding, excitement and dread twisting together in her chest behind her, Nox stood quietly, unreadable, tail still, eyes attentive.

Alice didn’t look back.

Quin stared at the next file like it had personally offended him.

“…Absolutely not.”

Alice leaned over the desk, chin in her hands, already smiling. “You didn’t even scroll.”

“I don’t need to,” Quin replied. “Rezzy. Chaos caster. High Rollers. Neo Vegas. Temporary mercenary flag.” He finally did scroll, jaw tightening by degrees. “And personally endorsed by Slots.”

Alice’s smile widened. “See? You do know her.”

Quin’s fingers drummed once on the desk. “I know enough. The High Rollers do not loan people out unless they’re bored or dangerous. Usually both.”

“That’s basically her brand,” Alice said cheerfully. “She’s not leaving Slots. This is just a side quest. Short-term.”

Quin looked at her. Slowly. Carefully. “You want to borrow the favorite toy of an S-rank.”

Alice shrugged. “Connection building.”

“That’s not how you say ‘political landmine.’”

Alice waved the file toward him. “Rezzy’s absurd. She’s got output to spare, no fear, no brakes, and zero interest in politics. She just wants to blow things up, paint afterward, and read weird books before bed.”

Quin paused despite himself. “…Paint.”

“And read,” Alice added quickly. “A lot. History and horror She once spent three weeks arguing with a professor about pre-Portal siege doctrine.”

Quin closed his eyes for half a second.

“Of course she did.”

Alice leaned forward, more serious now. “She’s not subtle. She’s not careful. But she hits like a disaster event. Her fireballs bounce. They airburst. They detonate on living mana signatures or whenever she feels like it. And if things get bad”

“She turns herself into a running bomb,” Quin finished flatly.

Alice grinned.

Quin exhaled slowly. “She is chaos given legs.”

“Yes.”

“And you want her.”

“Yes.”

Silence stretched.

Finally, Quin spoke. “Two conditions.”

Alice stiffened. “I figured.”

“First,” Quin said, raising a finger, “her contract is temporary. When it ends, I select her replacement. No argument.”

Alice frowned, then nodded. “Fine.”

“Second,” Quin continued, “because you insist on dragging an S-rank’s favorite chaos gremlin into my orbit, I select the next party member.”

Alice winced. “That’s not-”

“You’re already pushing your luck,” Quin said calmly. “This is me compromising.”

Alice chewed on the inside of her cheek.

Rezzy would be worth it. Connections to Slots alone were huge. And… honestly?

“She’d be fun,” Alice muttered.

Quin arched an eyebrow. “That is not a strategic metric.”

Alice met his gaze. “It is when morale matters.”

A long pause.

Then Quin sighed. Deep. Resigned.

“…Fine.”

The file slid into the Temporary Contract stack.

Alice pumped a fist under the desk. “Yes.”

Quin held up a hand. “One more thing.”

Alice froze. “There’s always one more thing.”

“She is not loyal to you,” Quin said evenly. “She is loyal to Slots. If you antagonize her, disrespect him, or put her in a position she finds boring or insulting”

“Don't cause trouble for you with other s ranks,” Alice finished. “I know.”

Quin rubbed his temples.

Alice leaned back, counting on her fingers.

“Okay. So. So far we have: a heavy metal bard with questionable loyalty, an incubus medic with questionable boundaries, and a chaos mage who thinks strategy is optional.”

Quin didn’t look amused. “You are assembling a natural disaster.”

Alice smiled, bright and unapologetic.

Quin looked unconvinced.

Quin steepled his fingers and leaned back.

“We have one slot left,” he said calmly. “So. Who is it.”

Alice didn’t hesitate.

“Yamaba.”

The word barely left her mouth before Quin shook his head.

“No.”

Alice stiffened. “Excuse me.”

“She’s level thirteen,” Quin said flatly. “D-rank. That is not negotiable. I set the minimum at B-rank for a reason.”

“She’s a necromancer,” Alice shot back immediately. “Her experience goes into her summons. If you count total combat output, she punches way above her level.”

Quin raised an eyebrow. “Summons are assets. Not levels.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Alice snapped. “Her undead have wiped rooms that would flatten most C-ranks.”

“And yet,” Quin replied, unfazed, “she is still level thirteen.”

Alice paced once, then turned back, hands clenched.

“She’s smart. She’s cautious. She understands battlefield control better than half the idiots you promote just because they grind stats.”

“That does not change her level,” Quin repeated.

Silence pressed in.

Then Quin tilted his head slightly, eyes sharpening.

“And this isn’t just about tactics, is it.”

Alice froze.

“…What.”

“You’ve been very careful with your choices,” Quin continued. “Utility. Synergy. Power. And now you want to break my rules for one specific person who happens to be emotionally complicated.”

Alice’s jaw tightened.

“She’s already in a relationship,” Quin added lightly. “With multiple people, from what I understand.”

Alice exhaled sharply. “That doesn’t mean I can’t want her.”

Quin watched her closely. Too closely.

“You like her,” he said. Not a question.

Alice looked away.

Then back.

“Yes.”

Quin waited.

Alice swallowed. “I like her a lot.”

“And?” Quin prompted.

Alice’s shoulders sagged just a little. “…And I want to steal her from Leo.”

There it was.

The room went very quiet.

Then Quin smiled.

Not cruel. Not mocking.

Amused.

“…All you had to do was be honest,” he said.

Alice blinked. “Wait. What.”

“I vetoed her because she doesn’t meet my standards,” Quin said calmly. “Not because I don’t understand why you want her.”

He leaned forward.

“I will allow you to recruit Yamaba.”

Alice’s breath caught. “Really?”

“Yes,” Quin said. “On one condition.”

Alice braced herself.

“You convince her,” Quin said. “No leverage. No authority. No guild pressure. She joins because she wants to.”

Alice nodded instantly. “Done.”

“And,” Quin continued, voice still even, “if you fail, that slot becomes mine. I select the final member. No arguments.”

Alice hesitated.

Then nodded again. “Fair.”

Quin studied her for a long moment.

“This is the part where most of my children lie,” he said quietly. “You didn’t.”

Alice frowned. “I’m not good at that.”

“That may be your greatest advantage,” Quin replied.

He slid the file stack aside and stood.

“Go,” he said. “Try to steal your necromancer.”

Alice turned toward the door, then paused.

“…You’re not mad?”

Quin smiled faintly. “No. I’m entertained.”

Alice groaned. “That’s worse.”

Quin laughed.

Quin rose from his chair.

The motion alone carried weight. The air in the office seemed to subtly realign around him, like the room itself had been waiting.

“Come,” he said, already stepping away from the desk. “There’s one more matter to settle before you even think about another dungeon.”

Alice sighed theatrically as she stood and followed. “Let me guess. A lecture.”

“No,” Quin replied dryly. “Equipment.”

She groaned louder. “I just went shopping.”

Nox fell into step behind them without comment, hooves soundless against the marble, posture composed and alert.

Quin didn’t slow. “You went shopping like a stubborn child. I’m talking about preparation.”

They stopped at the end of a long gallery. Quin raised one hand.

Fire tore open the air.

Not violently. Precisely.

A portal bloomed into existence, edged with molten runes and layered sigils, heat rolling out in disciplined waves. Beyond it lay darkness lit by distant, cold light.

Alice squinted. “…That’s the vault, isn’t it.”

“Yes.”

They stepped through.

The temperature dropped instantly.

The Inspira Vault was vast, cavernous in a way that made scale meaningless. Platforms floated in slow orbits. Weapon racks rearranged themselves with soft clicks. Armor stood on invisible mounts, some humming with restrained power, others so quiet they felt wrong to look at.

Alice felt it immediately.

Pressure.

Not mana exactly. Authority.

S-rank.

SS-rank.

Artifacts lined entire sections, each one warded, catalogued, and contained like a sleeping predator. A spear that bent light around itself. A sword embedded in a block of crystalized time. A cloak that cast no shadow at all.

Alice exhaled slowly. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Quin clasped his hands behind his back. “I had something more… substantial in mind.”

Alice didn’t even argue.

She just shrugged.

“At this point,” she said tiredly, “what’s one more advantage stacked on the pile.”

Quin studied her sidelong. “You sound resigned.”

“I am,” Alice replied honestly. “I already crossed the line when I called you. Pretending I can undo that by refusing shiny toys feels fake.”

She turned, looking over the vault again.

“But,” she added, raising a finger, “I’m only taking one thing.”

Quin stopped walking.

Slowly, he turned to her.

“One,” he repeated.

“One,” Alice confirmed. “I don’t want to be a walking armory. I want something that feels… mine.”

Quin exhaled through his nose. A long-suffering sound. “Suit yourself.”

Then, more firmly, “But it will be at least S-rank.”

Alice smirked. “You’re generous.”

“Preferably SS,” Quin added. “I am not sending my daughter into a dungeon under-equipped.”

Nox’s ears flicked once, approving.

Alice rolled her shoulders and stepped forward, eyes scanning rows of impossible weapons and armor.

“…Fine,” she muttered. “One thing. Something ridiculous.”

Quin’s smile was thin, satisfied.

“Take your time,” he said. “The vault isn’t going anywhere.”

Alice wandered.

That was the only word for it. Not browsing. Not shopping.

Wandering.

The vault responded to her presence with soft shifts of light and gravity, platforms drifting closer as if eager to be considered. Power pressed against her skin in layers, each artifact radiating its own personality, its own promise of what she could become if she let it.

She stopped first at the cloak.

It hung in midair, black fabric edged with rips and burns. The SS-rank Reaper Cloak.

Quin gestured faintly. “Guaranteed critical on all successful Hits. Physical, magical, summoned, indirect. The enchantment interprets intent very generously.”

Alice imagined it. Every hit a killing blow. Every fight ending faster, cleaner, bloodier.

She looked away.

“Too easy,” she said quietly. “I’d stop thinking.”

Next came the shield.

It was massive, layered with interlocking plates of light and metal that didn’t quite exist in the same place twice. When she stepped closer, a translucent barrier snapped into place instinctively in front of her, responding to her presence alone.

“Adaptive barrier projection,” Quin said. “You decide where the wall exists. The shield follows intent, not position.”

Alice raised a hand, experimentally, and the barrier shifted to her left. Then above her. Then behind.

Nearly unbreakable. Absolute control of space.

She lowered her hand.

“…I’d never feel afraid again,” she said.

“That’s the point,” Quin replied.

She moved on.

The necklace waited for her next.

Simple. Unassuming. A dark chain with a prismatic core that pulsed slowly, like a second heart.

“A secondary class slot,” Quin said. “Operates at roughly 50 percent of your primary class level. Fully functional. Fully scalable.”

Alice’s breath caught despite herself.

Another class. Another version of her, layered on top of what she already was.

She reached out.

Then stopped.

“…I’d never know which one was really me,” she murmured.

Quin said nothing.

Then she felt it.

Attention something looking at her.

At the far end of the vault, partially sealed behind redundant containment fields, something shifted.

Alice turned.

The artifact did not float politely. It clung.

A mass of glossy black matter writhed slowly in suspension, tendrils coiling and uncoiling with lazy intelligence. Veins of faint violet light pulsed through it, like bioluminescent nerves. When Alice took a step closer, the containment field flared.

The label burned into the air nearby.

SS-Rank Cursed Parasite - Symbiotic Weapon Organism

Quin watched her carefully now. “That one has ended more careers than it’s empowered.”

Alice didn’t look away.

“It’s alive,” she said.

“Yes.”

“It bonds.”

“Yes.”

“And it’s cursed.”

“Yes.”

She smiled faintly.

“My **** Knight class makes me immune to curses,” she said, more to herself than to him.

Quin’s brow creased. “Immune to curse effects. Not consequences.”

The parasite reacted to her voice.

Several tendrils pressed against the barrier, flattening like curious fingers. For a moment, Alice swore she felt something like recognition.

Information scrolled across her panel without her summoning it.

Adaptive morphology.

Weapon transformation.

Armor manifestation.

Self-repair via mana and biomass.

Tentacular extensions.

Independent predatory instinct.

Very horrifying.

Very her.

“It would live inside me,” Alice said quietly.

“Yes.”

“Become part of me.”

“Yes.”

“And if I wasn’t immune to curses…”

“It would eat you,” Quin finished flatly.

Alice laughed under her breath. Something close to awe.

“…Of course that’s the one that feels right.”

Nox shifted subtly behind her, posture alert.

Alice stood there for a long moment, staring at the thing that promised power without pretending it was clean.

“I need to think on it,” she said finally.

Quin nodded once. “Wise.”

The parasite twitched, almost disappointed.

Alice turned away, hands clenched lightly at her sides.

“One thing,” she reminded herself softly. “Just one.”