"I assume you're not in a party yet."
June swirled the last of her drink, as if the amber liquid might offer applause.
"I had a party. We heroically conquered those bothersome little wolves—barely worth the effort, mind you. But alas, I was unceremoniously kicked out. Apparently, they couldn't handle the brilliance of my ambition. I said we'd climb to the higher floors together, and they looked at me like I suggested invading heaven."
"So… they couldn't handle your rotten attitude?"
She paused, lips parting slightly as if she'd just been slapped with a glove made of poor manners.
Then her expression softened—not into humility, but into something far more dangerous: smugness.
"I was simply the only one with vision, charm, and talent. Naturally, they felt threatened."
[An unstable Sorcerer with a throne-sized ego—that's the kind of presence that turns simple quests into legendary catastrophes.]
Noah studied June for a beat longer than needed, as if mentally bracing for the inevitable chaos. Then his gaze shifted to Dimitri, and his expression warmed with amusement.
"I'm starting to think you've got a sixth sense for finding trouble wrapped in talent. I take it all back—you might actually be good at this recruitment thing."
Dimitri offered a cheerful thumbs up, like a man who'd just introduced fire to kindling and was excited to watch it burn.
Noah turned back to June with a playful nod.
"Alright, Lady Greatness. Congratulations. You've just been drafted. A Sorcerer's exactly what our party needed."
June tilted her head, a soft hum escaping her lips as though she was mulling over whether this new arrangement deserved her presence. Then she gave a small, self-satisfied smile that could melt mirrors.
"You should consider yourselves blessed. My agreement is the real treasure here."
"Now that we've got someone who deals in flashy magic and large-scale explosions, we're only missing one very important piece of the puzzle."
"What is it, my friend?"
"I checked the potion stalls earlier. Five gold for a single bottle of Small HP Potion. Five. For something that barely keeps your heart from giving out."
Noah exhaled like the memory itself was financially painful.
"If we're going to survive the second floor without going bankrupt or bleeding out every five minutes, we're going to need a proper healer. A real one. Someone who doesn't confuse bandages with buff spells."
Dimitri went quiet, a thoughtful look crossing his face. His brows dipped slightly as if something promising was floating just out of reach—but after a few silent seconds, he blinked and gave up on the thought like a balloon that drifted too high.
Then, slowly, June raised her hand. Not dramatically, not with her usual flourish—just a subtle lift, paired with a rare flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.
"I do know a healer. Quite capable, actually. I was teamed up with her before she got kicked out of the same party that foolishly discarded me. Tragic mistake on their part."
She paused, her confidence wobbling for the briefest moment, like a feather in the wind.
"But… there's a catch."
"Is it the attitude? Because if it is, trust me—I've already built up emotional armor. Comes standard when hanging around self-proclaimed prodigies."
June gave a look that hovered between amusement and mild offense, then glanced off to the side, as if searching for words that didn't exist.
"It's… difficult to explain. You'll understand when you see her. Let me just call her."
She reached into the air, fingers gliding through her interface with smooth familiarity, her expression unreadable now—half curious, half cautious.
Then they waited.
The seconds stretched, unbothered by urgency, as the quiet hum of the bar returned to fill the space between them.
June remained perfectly still, her chin slightly lifted, as if awaiting an entrance cue to a performance only she understood. Yet, for a brief second, one finger tapped against her side—lightly, rhythmically—like a melody of doubt trying to hide behind her usual flair.
And then, she arrived.
Her steps were light, almost soundless, as if the ground beneath her softened just to welcome her presence. She looked to be around nineteen or twenty, yet carried herself with the quiet grace of someone who moved through the world at her own rhythm.
Long curls of red hair framed her face, catching the flickering torchlight on the walls like strands of fire dancing in slow motion. Each step brought a shimmer to her locks, a soft glow that followed wherever she turned.
Her eyes were green—deep, vivid, and full of something gentle yet steady, like the still center of a storm.
Her smile bloomed easily when she saw June, her lips tinted with just enough red to make the expression glow.
Her skin, pale as untouched snow, added a softness to her presence, the kind that didn't ask for attention but quietly drew it anyway.
June extended her arm with practiced flair, as if presenting royalty.
"Gentlemen, this is Fiona. Main class: Druid. Subclass: Circle of the Land."
[Player— Level 2.]
Fiona's smile beamed like it had been waiting all day for this moment. There was something in her eyes—gentle, earnest, overflowing with warmth—that made it almost impossible not to smile back, even before she spoke.
When her voice came, it wrapped around them like the countryside after a summer rain—soft, thick, and nearly impenetrable.
"Ah'm real pleased tae meet ye both! Been a wee while since Ah've had folk tae walk beside. If ye'll have me, Ah'll keep ye patched up faster than ye can say 'ow!' Can't shapeshift just yet, but Ah'll dae me best so ye won't even miss it!"
Noah stared. There was a full second of silence where he looked at Dimitri, then back at Fiona, then at the general concept of language itself.
"I… I think her settings are on ultra-encrypted. That was definitely English, right?"
[This isn't normal. The system's translation filter is supposed to ensure perfect comprehension across all languages. But in her case, it's only partial—some of her words remain muddled, like corrupted data. Something's interfering, and it's not just a glitch.]
Fiona's smile faltered—just a touch. The kind of crack that appeared only when someone had seen too many puzzled stares and not enough understanding. Her voice grew smaller, her hands tightening behind her back.
"Ach… nae again. Ah always try tae be clear, but it comes oot like porridge sometimes. Please dinnae let this change yer mind. Ah promise—Ah'll gie it everythin' Ah've got. Cross me heart."
Even through the accent, the sincerity rang louder than any translation ever could.
[This one is interesting. Druids—especially from the Circle of the Land—are notoriously versatile. They don't just patch up wounds or throw vines at things. They adapt. They respond. They shift between roles like the seasons they draw their power from. Heal, defend, strike, support—they do it all. The jack of all trades in a party, and sometimes, the quiet ace no one sees coming.]
Noah looked at Fiona with a smile that was half amusement, half trust. There was something about her—beneath the incomprehensible accent and the polite nervous energy—that felt dependable. The kind of person who would stay when things got ugly.
"I don't fully understand what you just said, but you can definitely understand me, right? So that's good enough. My name is Noah. Welcome to the team. We're lucky to have you."
Fiona's reaction was immediate—her whole body bounced with joy, hands clapped together like a child receiving good news. Her smile lit up the room more than any torch ever could.
Noah couldn't help but chuckle, watching her excitement like someone enjoying the sunrise after a long dungeon crawl.
"Now that we're complete... it's time to crush things."