Dante gazed at the moon with a profound weariness in his dark eyes. Its brilliance bathed his face in an ethereal glow as he lay there, breathing heavily, in stark contrast to the moon's luminance.
He rose to his feet, retrieving his dagger, before wiping the blood from his mouth with his tattered sleeve. Dante then charged forward with unwavering determination. His dark hair swayed in the wind, and his hands trembled from clutching the dagger so tightly.
Before him, a diminutive green creature brandishing a sword screeched and confronted Dante.
It was a goblin, a small, nimble creature with green skin and a lean physique, considered the feeblest of all dungeon monsters.
Dante deftly dodged to the side, delivering a swift kick that sent the goblin tumbling across the ground, crashing into a nearby tree. With determination, Dante surged forward, brandishing his dagger.
A sharp whoosh filled the air as the dagger sliced through the goblin's neck. Its head soared through the night and landed several feet away, severed from its body.
Dante let out a relieved sigh and sank to one knee, his fatigue evident. Three goblin corpses, including the one he had just dispatched, lay around him. After catching his breath, Dante struggled to his feet and made his way toward a nearby campsite.
The flickering bonfire cast a warm glow over the camp. Four individuals encircled the flames, engaged in boisterous conversation and laughter. Their attention turned to the source of a dying goblin's screams as they noticed Dante approaching.
Among them, a young man donning expensive armor and a sword at his side, his features marked by blonde hair, blue eyes, and a striking handsomeness, furrowed his brow. This was Lucius, the leader of Dante's current squad.
"I took care of the goblins," Dante said, his head lowered.
"Before you join us, get changed," Lucius ordered, his gaze fixed on Dante's bloodstained attire. Dante nodded slowly, retrieved his bag from the camp's outskirts, and made his way toward a simple tent set up nearby.
"Peasant." Lucius sneered as Dante entered the tent.
His companions burst into laughter.
A girl, her outfit emphasizing her figure, stood at Lucius's side and draped her arm around his neck.
"Sarah." Lucius addressed the girl while also encircling her body with his arm.
"Why did you bring someone like him into our squad?" Sarah inquired, her gaze shifting toward the tent. She expressed her displeasure at Dante, a person with the lowest 'potential,' being part of their team, whose members prided themselves on their talent and affluent or influential backgrounds.
Lucius hailed from an influential guild known as the Vesper Guild, with his status further elevated by being the guild master's son. Sarah, on the other hand, hailed from a well-to-do family. The remaining duo, George and Michael, also came from privileged and influential backgrounds. The squad's age range spanned from 16 to 18.
"He's a fine errand boy, isn't he? Although it takes him nearly an hour to dispatch three goblins." Lucius remarked, nodding toward the goblin corpses. Lucius's eyes turned cold as he contemplated another purpose for Dante, a contingency plan.
"What did you expect from someone like him? His skill is pitifully weak—'Concentration,' my *ss!" Sarah quipped, eliciting laughter from their companions.
Despite their mirth, their eyes were drawn to Sarah's physique. Lucius sensed their gazes, and though he felt annoyed, he could do little, knowing that each of them had influential connections, except for Dante.
While Dante changed, the sound of their laughter reached his ears. He drew a deep breath and clenched his fists. Even though it was just their laughter, Dante could discern that it was directed at him.
Ever since they entered the dungeon, Dante had endured their treatment, akin to that of a servant, assigning him tasks that did not align with his intended role. They had him scout, bait enemies, and, most recently, engage in combat with the goblins, despite Dante signing up as a support member due to his unique skill. However, Dante was aware that retaliating would be futile. This squad was not the first to mistreat him, especially when they hailed from influential backgrounds.
His skill, known as "Concentration," did little to boost his esteem. Its name described its function well, as it granted the user, or someone they chose, enhanced concentration—but for a mere 10 seconds. It was a straightforward and unexciting skill that made him the target of scorn. Their pride and egos further exacerbated the situation, causing them to dismiss Dante's support capabilities altogether.
According to them, what can you enhance when you are already in concentration? Dante didn't bother responding to them. On the contrary, he was content that they didn't require his support skill, allowing him to use it on himself more frequently.
Dante emerged from the tent, sporting fresh attire. He chose to keep his distance from the group, opting to stand alone. Gently, he touched his stomach, where a simple bandage was wrapped, and a grimace crossed his face as pain flared.
'Damned goblins,' Dante mused silently. He had little choice but to endure their mistreatment. Although this squad offered higher pay than his previous ones, most of its members regarded him as nothing more than an errand boy. Dante recognized this reality but remained reticent.
Meanwhile, Lucius and Sarah continued to embrace, engrossed in their conversation. George and Michael couldn't help but envy them, and they too joined in the discussion.
After a while...
"We should proceed. Let's take down the boss," Lucius declared to his squadmates, his gaze lingering on Dante. Upon hearing this, Dante couldn't suppress a curse under his breath, knowing he had barely managed to catch some rest. George, with his imposing frame, grabbed a shield nearly half his size, while Michael retrieved his dual daggers.
"Hmph! Alright," Sarah grumbled, picking up her arrows. Unlike the others, she didn't protest vocally. As for Dante, he made an effort to move despite his injuries. However, instead of arming himself immediately, he headed to the rear of the camp to collect their belongings. Once he was laden with bags, he returned, only to discover that they had already set off without waiting for him.
Dante glanced at the still-burning bonfire and then at the moon, a frown etching his features. Without a word of caution, he went to gather some dirt and used it to extinguish the fire before hurrying to catch up with the rest. He knew the dangers of venturing into dungeons at night, but he also recognized that his warnings would likely fall on deaf ears, so he didn't bother speaking up.
After walking through the forest for nearly 30 minutes, they stumbled upon a horde of goblins, likely the same group Dante had encountered earlier, the one he had dispatched three of. It was the dead of night, and the goblins were fast asleep. Without awaiting any orders, George charged forward, bellowing loudly, heedless of the possibility of waking the slumbering creatures. Michael swiftly followed suit, his face adorned with a mischievous grin.
Their target: ten sleeping goblins.