“Boss, I heard this forest’s packed with rare beasts. We’re gonna make bank!”
“Haha, if we pull off a big win, the vice-captain spot’s yours!”
“Thanks, Boss!”
This was a D-rank adventurer squad, averaging level 80. Mixed crew—humans, werewolves, even a Blood Clan member…
In this messy world, only the might-makes-right Adventurer Guild kept racial beefs in check. Sure, some tension lingered, but Blood Clan’s slick skills made it no biggie.
“Boss… let’s bail. Something’s off—feels dangerous…” the low-rank Blood Clan muttered, shivering.
A True Ancestor’s aura? For high-ranks, it’s fine wine—gets you drunk. For mid-ranks, sweet perfume—makes you swoon. For low-ranks? Poison—kills you dead!
Low-ranks can’t ID a True Ancestor, but they feel the heavy racial pressure in the air.
The low-rank hugged their arms, trembling. The others? Didn’t care.
“Danger? I don’t feel it. You’re just freaking out. Besides, you’re the support, not the tank—what’s to fear?” a burly beer-belly guy laughed.
“Exactly! Risk equals reward. Our squad’s got no other shot—this is our last chance!” a skinny, lanky monkey-like dude said, patting the low-rank’s shoulder.
“Just chill and support. You’ll get a tenth of the loot—sweet deal, right?” Monkey Guy grinned.
Outnumbered, the low-rank nodded, helpless. The squad kept moving, all buddy-buddy… on the surface. Real thoughts?
Beer-Belly: Low-rank Blood Clan’s just trash—scared already? Total scrub.
Monkey Guy: This spot’s my ticket. If we score big, the squad’s back on top, and I’m vice-captain. Hell, with luck, I could split and start my own crew!
Boss: A low-rank? Once we win big, they’re out. Mid-rank’s fine, but a low-rank? Swap ‘em for an elf any day.
In this mixed squad, the low-rank was straight-up shunned. A mid-rank? Maybe they’d fit. But a low-rank? Just the “weakest” link.
Blood Clan’s like that—crazy extremes. True Ancestors, top of the food chain, are among the world’s ten Ultimate Beings. Low-ranks? Weaker than your average human or werewolf.
If the low-rank could sip blood, maybe they’d shine. But in this crew? Not a drop.
The squad tromped through the forest, ditching stealth. Way too aggro. The low-rank trailed, heart pounding, glancing around.
No trouble… please, no trouble…
They gulped, Blood Clan sixth sense blaring like a siren—trouble was coming.
“Boss! Something’s moving ahead—big one!” Beer-Belly shouted, hyped.
Monkey Guy whipped out an arrow, nocking it. Whoosh—a sharp shot nailed a speeding critter 100 meters out.
Roar roar roar!
“Oh roar~ A tiger! Tiger pelts are gold—we just earned back a tenth of our losses!” Monkey Guy raced over. An adult tiger, a level-two protected species. Its pelt? Black-market jackpot.
“Keep it up, folks! We might score bigger than we thought!” the Boss roared, raising an arm. Everyone but the low-rank cheered, arms up.
The low-rank peeked at the tiger, lips pursed.
This tiger… smells like kin… (True Ancestor’s kin’s kin, so faint even a low-rank could sense it.)
A kin with stronger blood than me—mid or high-rank? Even a basic mid-rank could wipe this squad! Gotta warn them!
Before they could speak, a bone-chilling aura blanketed the area.
Wild and bloody… red eyes glowed behind Beer-Belly.
Roar ROAR ROAR!
“Ambush—” His words cut off. Deep claw marks shredded his back, armor and flesh like paper.
Only after Beer-Belly dropped did they see the “sneak attacker.”
“Tiger? No—this ain’t normal!”
“Blood Tiger…” the low-rank gasped. As Blood Clan, they knew kin types. But making this kin? The master’s blood had to be… high-rank, minimum!
This forest had at least one high-rank Blood Clan!
As the low-rank reeled, the Blood Tiger’s pals stepped out.
Blood Tiger, Bloodthirsty Bear, Mourning Scale Python, Pursuit Wolf, Super Honey Badger… beasts from all sides, blood-red eyes their only shared trait.
The squad averaged level 100, but these beasts were 100+ too. With natural stat edges and Blood Kin regen, even one could spell doom.
Seeing the beasts, even the cockiest squad members got it.
We’re screwed!