Chapter 126: Ask for More if You Want Me to Give You More?!

Chapter 126: Chapter 126: Ask for More if You Want Me to Give You More?!

Ragnar Fenrir studied Adrian for a long moment, his ash gray ears twitching with his arms still crossed.

"You’re looking well, Adrian, I thought your group would be in worse shape after that Wyrm." He said gesturing to them behind Adrian.

"I mean I figured it wouldn’t be much of a problem for you, but your group should have had a hard time, no?"

"It was a hard fight, but we prepared for it." Adrian said.

"Prepared?" Orion cut in. "Garruk nearly became its lunch."

"Nearly, you dumbass, there’s a difference." Garruk said, a vein popping on his forehead as he turned on him, tired of all of them pointing out his ptsd.

"The difference, is that you were lucky enough to have a shield between yourself and its rows of razor like teeth." Nyla said, adjusting her bow,

"You’re all very supportive."

"Good, your group hasn’t lost its sense of humor just yet." Ragnar laughed hearing them.

"That’s one way to put it," Adrian said sighing at them.

’I’ll keep him talking and see what slips, he should know some more things seeing as he knows Silas quite well and they are friends, maybe?’

"So how far are you planning to push?"

"Floor Twenty, of course, I’m not settling for anything less, this is only an A Rank dungeon after all."

"And your group, they agree?" Adrian asked.

"Haha, don’t worry I have informed them and we came to an agreement." Ragnar said scratching his head.

"Yes, we support young master Ragnar’s choice to aim for floor Twenty." A werewolf standing behind Ragnar said, as the rest of the group confirmed.

"Seems like your group likes you?"

"Hahah, I am just that charismatic." Ragnar laughed loud.

A few nearby students from the other groups turned to look, floor Twenty was the deepest floor in this dungeon and had a Peak A Rank dungeon boss that likely had strength equivalent to an S Rank. Clearing it was an entirely different conversation than just beating another boss.

"What about you?"

"We’re also thinking of going to floor Twenty if we can." Adrain said humbly.

"Good. I’d hate to win just because you decided to quit early." Ragnar’s grin widened.

"You’re assuming you’ll win, you do know there are other groups ranked higher than us."

"Obviously, but I’m Group One’s leader and group rankings don’t mean squat."

"Then I suppose we’ll find out if that ranking’s earned when we meet them."

They traded matching smiles, neither looked remotely offended if anything, the needling had made the conversation more interesting for both of them.

’Despite his all brawn and no brains look, he’s quite smart, trying to fish info from me,’ Adrian thought.

’Yep, but so are you, boy, now who will fish more, the little boy, or the little wolf,’ Old Man Gus murmured.

’Throw the wolf a line and see what he bites on, it should make this more fun.’ Gus said excitedly.

’I’m having a conversation and trying to get more information, old man, not give what I know away.’

’This isn’t real fishing, you know.’

’Call it what you like, it’s still fishing.’

"Heard anything on Group Three?" Ragnar’s voice dropped slightly.

"Nope but they should be moving well."

"Silas’s group has talent, the demon princess’s group should be ahead of everyone right now, and first place, from what I speculate, with the elf princess co-leading or vice versa. "

"Strength isn’t everything, if Group Three leans too hard on their strongest member, they’ll bleed time eventually." Nyla folded her arms.

"Fair," Ragnar admitted. "But Silas isn’t stupid, despite his looks, he knows how to use people to their utmost."

"You’re being awfully generous with that credit." Orion snorted.

"I give credit where it’s earned."

"What about Group One, then?" Adrian asked.

Ragnar’s grin came back easy as breathing. "We’re doing fine."

"That’s not information."

"Ask a better question."

"What’s your group rank?"

"Enough to keep you interested."

"Still not an answer."

"And yet you’re still interested."

"These two could argue over the weather and call it strategy." Selene shook her head.

"Technically," Thalen offered, "weather does affect some dungeon explorations."

Everyone looked at him.

"What? It does." He shrugged.

The two leaders kept trading careful half answers a while longer, enough to be useful, not enough to hand the other an edge. Both knew cooperation between strong groups could matter if something went wrong lower down but neither was willing to bet on it being necessary yet.

Eventually Ragnar extended a hand. "Good luck, Valemont."

Adrian took it. "You too, Fenrir."

The grip was firm, for now, competitors, not enemies just yet.

Far above them, in a place neither leader or any student could see, five people were about to decide what exactly was the kind of thing worth betting money on.

The Nine Star Zenith Academy’s Observation Tent, which was not so much a tent, sat folded into its own pocket of space somewhere above the Bloodmoon Ruins, a circular, polished floor, a round table at the center, fifteen magical projections hovering above it like oversized soap bubbles.

Each one showed a different student group, fed through enchanted bracelets and a scattered network of surveillance artifacts that picked up the slack wherever the bracelets lost line of sight.

The Five instructors had been watching for hours and their patience was starting to show cracks.

Garrick Hale leaned back in his chair, one arm draped over the back of it, sword resting against his hip like it had grown there. Dark hair, stern face, utterly unbothered expression, the kind of man who looked like he was supposed to be intimidating and had simply never gotten around to it.

"The students are making this year a little interesting, at least, not like last years, with that half dragon clapping all his competitors to oblivion. " he said, taking a sip from his cup, which was filled with some kind of wine.

"Fifteen groups, twenty floors, and half of them trying to break their own necks competing with each other." He said trying to sound impressed but failing to do so.

"Can you not drink here or right now, we are supposed to be monitoring them." Vespera sighed seeing him fill the cup once again, from a bottle that somehow never ran out.

Brannoc Stonepaw laughed loud enough to rattle the teacups, the lion beastman took up roughly one and a half chairs by sheer mass alone, tawny mane bristling and a build that suggested he’d arm wrestled a dungeon boss at some point purely for fun.

"HA! That’s exactly what I want to hear! If they want power, they need to push!"

He leaned forward, jabbing a thick finger at Adrian’s projection.

"Look at that kid’s footwork! Valemont doesn’t waste a single step, and he knows exactly when to let his people handle a fight instead of hogging it for himself like that power kid!" He said pointing to a certain demon vampire.

Garrick raised an eyebrow. "You’ve been praising the same kid for twenty minutes."

"BECAUSE HE’S GOOD."

Vespera Quill winced, feline ears flattening. "Must you project your voice directly into my skull, Brannoc?"

The petite cat beastwoman sat with the kind of effortless elegance that made the rest of the table look like they were slouching on purpose, her dark cat tail sweeping lazily behind her chair, golden eyes already cataloguing details nobody else had noticed yet.

"Adrian’s competent," she said, studying Group 7’s various fights.

"But I find Nyla Duskthorn and Mira Veyl more interesting for my tastes."

"Why," Garrick asked.

"Because they understand information, Nyla spots threats before they’re threats. Mira infiltrates without ever breaking the team’s formation." Her tail flicked.

"Raw strength wins fights but information prevents the fights that don’t need to happen and of they do, it ends them."

"Raw strength also prevents fights, for example, nobody picks a fight with someone three times their size, do they?" Brannoc grunted.

"Didn’t you?" Garrick asked.

"Only beacuse his opponent was foolish enough to stand still and let him hit them." Vespera smiled and said.

Brannoc opened his mouth, reconsidered and closed it as Garrick laughed into his cup.

Varkesh Dreadhorn hadn’t said a word yet, which, for him, counted as a statement. The giant demon instructor sat with his arms crossed, goat horns curling back from a broad red skinned brow, radiating the specific patience of a man waiting for everyone else to catch up to an obvious conclusion.

"You’re all missing the point," he finally said, gesturing at Silas’s feed.

"Group two has exceptional potential, since it’s the demon princess’s group. Bloodline, talent and foundation quality give both a considerable edge over anyone relying on raw technique alone."

"Group Three is also a good pick."

"Youre picking two horses now?" Garrick asked.

"I support excellence."

"That’s convenient that your excellence is the two better Demons here." Garrick remarked.

Varkesh ignored him entirely. "Silas has shown strong leadership, the princesses have a formidable lineage and an efficient group so I expect either one of them to finish first, though the princesses are more likely to be the one."

"That’s a confident prediction." Vespera smiled, faint and sharp.

"It’s an informed one."

"Of course it is."

The fifth instructor sat slightly apart from the others and on a comfortable looking sofa, which was less a seating choice and more a natural law of the room.

Maerwynn Cross, black hair, pale skin, crimson eyes, sat cross legged in a posture so perfect it looked practiced in a mirror daily.

Yet no rigid discipline could tame the striking, hourglass of her figure, the soft plush of the sofa yielded beneath her behind, accentuating the generous sweep of her hips and the deep, narrow dip of her waist.

Clad in the purple academy uniform, the one for meant instructors, its fabric clung possessively to every beautiful swell of her figure, catching a certain instructors eye.

The temperature around Maerwynn’s seat seemed to run a degree or two colder than everywhere else, and even Brannoc instinctively lowered his volume whenever she usually spoke.

’Maer is so pretty! Even when she’s only sitting, she is so cool!’ Vespera screamed and fan girled internally, but nothing showed on the outside besides an excited tail flicking behind her.

"You’re all predicting based on reputation." She said after watching Adrian’s and the rest of the students feeds without comment for a while.

"And reputation means nothing to you?" Varkesh turned toward her.

"It means something but it’s insufficient, as anyone can fake one." Her crimson eyes didn’t move from the projection.

"Adrian Valemont performs consistently, his leadership doesn’t fluctuate, and his group’s coordination is excellent. That matters more than most students realize." She said, though she didn’t say everything she though about him.

’His strength is also very convenient, always just enough for when it’s needed, but it’s not my place to point it out.’

Garrick’s smile widened. "See? Someone agrees with me."

"I didn’t say he’d win though."

"You’re very good at taking the fun out of things you know Maerwynn." His smile faded slightly.

"Thank you." She smiled.

"That wasn’t a compliment, Maer." Vespera’s tail swished with amusement.

"I’m aware of that Ves." She giggled into her palm.