The goblin continued, "I'll keep this brief. The Void Passage we've located is a Level 2 passage, meaning it can accommodate up to full-scale dual-wing power. This operation is not a full-scale national campaign but a low-intensity hunting festival.
"For this mission, teams of five are mandatory. You can form your own groups or opt for random assignment—don't interrupt, let me finish. The reason for this grouping is that Moonshadow Priests will be blessing your teams with the Blood Moon's grace.
"The blessings include enhancements like Sprint, Demon Strength, Amplify, Regeneration, Fortify, Mental Resistance, and Feathered Glide, among others. Most importantly, a 48-hour Life Link will be established among your team members. If you don't want the Blood Moon's blessings, raise your hand."
The crowd, initially grumbling, fell silent. Even Ash felt tempted. While the various enhancements sounded useful, the real prize was the Life Link—a phenomenon Ash had read about extensively in the archives during the infamous 422 Incident.
The Life Link, true to its name, creates a bond among the linked individuals, redistributing life force from healthy members to injured ones. This miraculous effect not only accelerates healing but also prevents critical death so long as the link persists. It's essentially a safeguard, locking in the last sliver of life.
For adventurers, the Life Link was a lifesaving charm. Even the most selfish among them wouldn't dare refuse such a perk.
Seeing no objections, the goblin nodded and continued, "After my announcement, you may form teams freely. For those who do not wish to form teams on their own, we will assign you to random groups. One key point to note—random teams will be sent in the earliest waves, ahead of the freely formed teams."
Ash's eyes narrowed. Cannon fodder.
Even though the passage had been confirmed to be stable, over a day had passed since the last scout, or "rabbit," returned. Any number of changes could have occurred on the other side. Compared to the coordinated free teams, random teams—prone to infighting and incompetence—were perfect for serving as scouts to test the waters.
Of course, the Life Link was clearly intended to keep these early entrants alive just long enough to ensure that subsequent teams had actionable intel.
"To incentivize participation," the goblin added flatly, "there will be bonus merits for the first entrants. Random teams will enter in the first three waves. Each wave will consist of five teams, and there will be a 3-minute interval between waves.
"The first wave will receive 300 Vanguard Merit Points per team, the second wave 200 points, and the third wave 100 points. The first team of each wave will receive an additional multiplier: 80% for the first, 50% for the second, 30% for the third, and 10% for the fourth. The fifth team gets nothing."
In total, the first team of the first wave could earn up to 540 merit points (300 × 1.8). It was an enticing reward—but only if they survived to spend it.
Though Ash lacked a clear sense of merit value in the battle zones, the sharp gasps from the surrounding adventurers, cooling the air with their collective shock, told him the reward was significant.
Someone raised their hand to ask, "What if an adventurer guild sneaks its members into the random teams?"
"We don't care," the goblin replied indifferently, gesturing toward three rows of tents flanking the stage. "As you can see, there are three rows of tents to my left. Facing the stage, the first row is for the first wave, with the leftmost tent designated for Team 1.
"Blessings will begin at 11:15 PM. I expect every tent to have five participants by then." Adjusting his glasses, he added with an eerily calm demeanor, "One last thing—no killing."
The goblin descended the stage, exuding an air of authority so palpable that even the fiercest adventurers stepped aside to clear his path. He entered the largest tent, leaving behind an unspoken tension.
The moment the goblin disappeared, a sudden roar shattered the silence—a sorcerer slammed a table and drew a hand cannon from a crate, signaling the start of a brawl.
Gunfire thundered across the camp as adventurer groups turned on one another, exchanging bullets and curses.
The prize at the heart of this chaos? The first spot in Wave 1, Team 1.
While the danger across the first three waves was roughly equal, the reward structure heavily favored the first team in the first wave. If the passage was stable, they would reap the greatest rewards. But if ambushes awaited on the other side, all early teams were equally doomed.
The thrill of such a gamble was irresistible to these adventurers—most of whom were adrenaline-fueled risk-takers, unable to stomach the monotony of regular jobs. They weren't just fighting for merit; they were fighting for the right to bet their lives.
Meanwhile, lone adventurers quietly began filling the tents. Ash, having weighed his options, headed toward Tent 5 in Row 1.
For him, the first wave was ideal. He had no intention of returning to the Blood Moon Nation; the sooner he could leave, the better. While Team 5 was the least appealing spot in the first wave, with fewer rewards and nearly identical risks, it suited Ash's goals perfectly. He could sneak past any initial chaos while the other teams drew attention.
But when Ash pulled back the tent flap, he froze.
Four figures were already seated inside.
On the right bench, two cloaked individuals: a towering figure polishing their nails with a file and a wiry person jingling steel balls in their pocket.
On the center bench, another cloaked figure with dark, curly hair tore open a candy wrapper featuring a cartoon Snow White, popping a Moon Candy into their mask-covered mouth.
On the left bench, a languid figure lounged with seductive, fox-like eyes. When Ash entered, the figure's lips curled into a mocking smirk, eyes brimming with mischief.
Ash immediately tried to back out. "Sorry, wrong tent—didn't mean to intrude—"
But before he could leave, a hand grabbed his wrist. When Ash reflexively resisted, the familiar voice froze him in place.
"Don't forget, you still owe me a favor, dear cult leader."
Igula pulled Ash fully into the tent, yanked off his mask, and grinned with unrestrained delight.
"Such luck," Igula said, voice dripping with amusement. "I was just thinking I needed bait—and you walked right in. What a delightful stroke of karma."
"Truly," Ash sighed, "I must've been cursed."