Chapter 90: The Porter

"Hello."

Jet and Frey both paused.

They had been so focused on the White Dungeon displayed above the terminal that neither had paid much attention to the person approaching from behind. The two exchanged a brief glance before turning around together.

A young man stood a few steps away.

The first thing Jet noticed was his size.

The stranger was fat, genuinely so, with a large round stomach pressing against the reinforced fabric of his dark-grey field uniform and thick arms exposed beneath rolled sleeves.

He looked somewhere in his early twenties, with a round face, full cheeks and short black hair flattened beneath a protective helmet.

A pair of rectangular glasses rested on his nose, although the lenses appeared to be reinforced rather than ordinary glass. Sweat already glistened faintly across his forehead despite the headquarters’ climate control.

What made his appearance stranger was how thoroughly equipped he was.

A protective vest covered his torso, reinforced guards wrapped around his forearms and knees, and heavy Dungeon boots rose above his ankles.

Several utility pouches hung from his belt beside a compact first-aid kit, folding extraction tools, sealing bags and a short utility knife intended more for processing monster materials than fighting.

Behind him rested an enormous framed backpack that looked large enough to carry another person. Several folded collection sacks had been strapped to its sides, along with ropes, hooks and collapsible containers.

He looked less like a warrior and more like a moving warehouse.

Frey’s eyes traveled from the man’s boots to the enormous backpack before returning to his face. "Can we help you with something?"

The young man adjusted one of his shoulder straps and smiled. "I noticed you two were looking through open White Dungeons, so I figured you’re preparing for a Raid. I’m a certified porter, and I’m available today."

He immediately reached toward a protected pocket on his chest and pulled out an identification card.

Jet glanced at it.

[O.R.D.O. CERTIFIED DUNGEON PORTER]

[LICENSE RANK: E]

That explained the equipment.

Porters occupied an unusual position within the Awakener industry.

Most weren’t Awakeners at all.

They were ordinary humans who voluntarily entered Dungeons alongside licensed Raiders to handle everything the combatants didn’t want slowing them down.

They carried supplies, organized harvested materials, processed monster corpses when qualified, packed valuable organs and hides, transported Mana Crystals and helped make sure a Raid Team didn’t leave half its earnings behind simply because nobody had enough hands to carry it.

The work was dangerous.

Even a White Dungeon could kill an ordinary person within seconds if the Raiders protecting them failed, which was why O.R.D.O. required professional porter registration, physical examinations, Dungeon safety training and certification before anyone could legally offer the service.

Porters were taught monster-harvesting basics, emergency procedures, evacuation protocols and how to behave during combat without becoming another problem the Raid Team needed to solve.

In the Awakener world, they occupied the bottom of the professional hierarchy.

Outside it, that reputation changed considerably.

A successful porter could earn more than many corporate employees because Raid Teams paid well for someone willing to walk through a dimensional Gate and spend hours surrounded by monsters.

Experienced porters attached to higher-ranked teams earned even more, particularly if they possessed valuable harvesting, medical or material-handling certifications.

Their licenses advanced too.

The process differed from Raider promotion because combat contribution wasn’t expected. If a registered porter entered a Dungeon with a licensed team, completed the expedition and was recorded by O.R.D.O. as part of the successful Raid, that clear entered the porter’s professional record.

Enough verified clears, combined with safety evaluations and additional certification requirements, allowed the porter to climb through the professional license ranks.

Which meant the E-Rank card in front of them wasn’t insignificant.

This guy had experience.

Frey apparently reached the same conclusion and still wasn’t interested.

He waved one hand dismissively. "No thanks. We’re good. We don’t need a porter."

The young man’s smile faltered.

Only briefly.

He tucked the license back into its protected pocket and immediately recovered. "You might want to reconsider that before registering. You’re looking at ZN-W-77104, right? Ruined Settlement, thirty-five to fifty monsters, high projected Mana Crystal yield."

Frey glanced at the hologram and then back at him. "You were reading over our shoulders?"

"I prefer the term observing potential clients," the porter replied without shame. "And if you’re targeting that Dungeon because of its Crystal yield, you’re going to want someone handling everything else. Beast hides, teeth, claws, glands, usable organs, weapons if there are humanoid types, whatever else turns up. Mana Crystals aren’t the only things worth money."

Frey folded his arms. "We have Inventory."

The porter nodded immediately. "Of course you do. You’re registered Raiders. But unless your Inventory is unusually large, you still have limited space, and filling it with low-value monster parts makes no sense when you could reserve it for Crystals, emergency supplies and anything actually rare."

Jet remained silent.

The porter was persistent, but he wasn’t wrong.

The young man seemed encouraged by the fact that Jet hadn’t rejected him and continued, gesturing toward the Raiders around them. "Look around. Half the established teams here have at least one porter."

He wasn’t exaggerating.

A group of four Raiders near another holographic globe had two ordinary-looking men checking large extraction packs beside them.

Another team was speaking with a woman wearing the same porter insignia, while farther across the lobby, three heavily armed Awakeners were handing storage containers to a pair of porters before heading toward the Dungeon transport section.

The young man pointed toward them. "Those guys aren’t bringing porters because they enjoy splitting their profits. They’re doing it because stopping after every fight to skin monsters, remove valuable parts, sort materials and pack everything yourselves wastes time. If you leave the corpses untouched, you’re throwing away money. If you process everything yourselves, you’re spending time doing my job instead of yours."

Frey looked at him with reluctant amusement. "You really don’t give up easily."

"I like eating," the porter replied, patting his stomach with one hand. "Eating requires money. Therefore, I have developed a strong professional work ethic."

Frey laughed despite himself.

The porter immediately pressed his advantage. "I’m E-Rank, not some first-timer who got certified yesterday. I know where to stand during combat, I know when to run, I can process common White and Green Dungeon monsters, and I won’t scream because something ugly looks at me. You two focus on killing. I make sure the dead things become money."

"You rehearsed that speech, didn’t you?" Frey asked.

The porter grinned. "Several versions."

While the two continued talking, Jet studied the man’s face.

Something was bothering him.

It had nothing to do with the sales pitch.

The round cheeks, rectangular glasses, small eyes and strangely confident smile beneath all that nervous enthusiasm felt familiar. Jet was certain he had seen that face somewhere before, but he couldn’t immediately place it.

Ten years of memories shifted through his mind.

Nothing settled.

Frey eventually turned away from the porter and looked at Jet. "What do you think? You’re suspiciously quiet."

Jet blinked and returned his attention to the present.

He looked at the massive backpack again, then toward the White Dungeon hovering above the terminal.

Their first Dungeon Raid had been different. They hadn’t known exactly what they were doing, and most of their attention had gone toward understanding their new abilities and surviving. Now they intended to spend an entire week repeatedly clearing Dungeons for Mana Crystals and Star progression.

That changed the calculation.

Jet rubbed his chin before answering. "I think keeping a reliable porter around makes sense if we’re going to spend the next week raiding."

Frey’s eyebrows rose slightly.

Jet gestured toward the equipment strapped across the young man’s body. "We can store things in Inventory, but there’s no reason to fill limited space with every useful monster part we find. Carrying everything physically ourselves isn’t better either. Enough weight eventually affects movement and combat efficiency, especially if we’re clearing several Dungeons across the week."

The porter’s face began lighting up.

Jet continued, "If he’s actually experienced at harvesting, he’ll also save us time between fights. We clear the path, he handles whatever is worth collecting, and we move faster."

The young man nodded so aggressively that the enormous backpack shifted behind him. "Exactly. That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to tell him."

Frey stared at Jet, then at the porter.

Finally, he sighed.

"Fatty, looks like today is your lucky day."

The porter’s grin widened immediately. "You’ll both be thanking me when we come out carrying twice what you would’ve collected yourselves."

"Don’t become arrogant yet," Frey warned him, although he was smiling. "We’re hiring you for one Dungeon first. If you’re useless, annoying or somehow manage to get yourself eaten, the week-long arrangement disappears."

The porter raised one hand solemnly. "I can promise two of those three things."

Frey narrowed his eyes. "Which two?"

The young man wisely ignored the question.

Jet almost smiled, but that strange familiarity still bothered him.

Frey extended his hand toward the porter. "All right. If we’re going to work together, we should probably know what to call you. What’s your name?"

The young man shifted the enormous pack more comfortably across his shoulders before taking Frey’s hand.

"Mikhail Dragunov," he introduced himself with a broad smile. "Mikhail Dragunov. E-Rank porter, certified field harvester, and hopefully the best business decision you two make today."

Jet’s expression changed.

The name struck something in his memory harder than the face ever could.

His eyes widened.

He turned fully toward the fat young man. "Did you say your name is Mikhail Dragunov?"