I nodded to Marcus, but my eyes stayed on the heavy oak doors at the top of the stairwell. The "Neutral Zone" barrier hummed softly, a shimmering curtain of light that kept the peace, but the tension underneath was thick enough to choke on.
"We're stalled," I muttered, more to myself than to him.
"We have the muscle, the scouts, and the tactical lead," Marcus said, leaning his lightning-flickering sword against the stone railing. "But the system won't unlock the raid rooms until the fifth slot is filled. If it's a low-rank party, they'll just be dead weight. We need someone in the Top 5 to offset the 'Iron Junkyard's' lack of finesse."
"Hey!" the leader of the Junkyard barked from across the room, though he didn't move to fight. He was busy watching Grayson.
Grayson had his floor buffer flipped upside down, his hands covered in grease as he adjusted the magma-infusion vents. "You know," the Junkyard leader said, squatting down next to him, "we lost our engineer in the quad. If you can make my axe's heat-sink more stable, I'll make sure nothing gets within ten feet of your healer during the raid."
Grayson wiped his forehead with a rag, leaving a streak of black oil. "Deal. But you touch the wiring without asking, and the 'magma' becomes a bomb. Got it?"
Near the edge of the balcony, the atmosphere was quieter. Yosef was sitting cross-legged, his carbon-fiber staff across his lap. He wasn't talking, but he was watching the three scouts from The Dean's List (Rank #7). They were practicing a synchronized shadow-step, their movements almost perfectly silent.
Yuna, ever the competitor, was leaning against a pillar, idly spinning a frost-arrow between her fingers. One of the Dean's List scouts, a girl with sharp, clever eyes, stopped and looked at Yuna's bow.
"Recurve?" she asked.
"Customized," Yuna replied. "The limb-tension is higher than the standard athletic models. Good for piercing through the 'Screamer' hides."
"If we get the Shadow Library," the scout said, "my team will flush them into the open. You just worry about hitting the eyes."
I walked back to the center of the room, checking the system log. The four parties—#3, #7, #11, and #12—were all present. We were sitting at a total party count of 20 people.
"Everyone's hoping for *The Honor Guard* (Rank #5)," Neveah whispered, coming up beside me. She looked at the door, her hands nervously fidgeting with her medic bag. "If they show up, we have a real chance. If it's a Rank #50 team that just got lucky... we might have to carry them."
Suddenly, the "Neutral Zone" barrier at the door flared a brilliant, blinding white. The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees in a heartbeat.
[NOTIFICATION: ALLIANCE 1 ASSEMBLY IN PROGRESS]
[RANK #5: THE HONOR GUARD HAS ENTERED THE NEUTRAL ZONE]
The doors creaked open. Five figures stepped through, moving in a tight, V-shaped formation. They wore pristine white lab coats over dark, tactical body armor. Unlike the rest of us, who were covered in soot and ichor, they looked untouched—as if the apocalypse was just a particularly demanding chemistry lab.
The leader, a woman with silver-rimmed glasses and a cold, focused expression, stepped forward. She didn't look at the other parties; she looked directly at the holographic map of the Grand Gate.
"Rank #5. The Honor Guard," she announced. Her voice was clinical, devoid of fear. "We spent the last three hours analyzing the boss's spawn patterns. We are ready to proceed."
The room erupted in a low murmur of relief. We had the Top 5 slot.
[ALLIANCE 1 COMPLETE]
[TOTAL LEVEL: 172]
I stepped forward, the [Raid Commander] title flaring above my head. "Glad you could join the curve, Honor Guard. I'm Vivienne. We were just discussing the entry point."
I turned to the group, my voice echoing through the tower. "Alliance 1! Sync your comm-links and finalize your trades. We have five parties and three bosses. We're heading into the first room."