Chapter 38: Recruiting (1)

Chapter 38: Chapter 38: Recruiting (1)

Kael nodded slowly, his earlier teasing demeanor fading into something more serious. "Yes. A tower."

He let the words hang between them for a moment, his fingers drumming a slow rhythm against the worn countertop. The evening light slanted through the high windows, catching the dust motes drifting above the scattered tables.

"You might not have heard much about them. After all, they aren’t exactly common in this dome. But back where Raven and I come from, towers showed up often enough that people stopped treating them like myths."

He tapped the counter twice more. "I don’t exactly know how many types of towers there are, but from what little I know, there are supposed to be two types."

He raised one finger. "The first is the physical kind—actual stone structures that punch up through the ground. They’re pretty beautiful when they aren’t actively trying to kill you."

"And the second type?" Michael asked, leaning closer.

"Yeah, that one is less famous. They’re called gate towers." Kael shrugged. "Even I don’t know much about them. All I’ve heard is that they exist inside rifts."

Michael leaned back on the stool, folding his arms across his chest. "Let me guess. This one’s one of those gate towers."

Kael raised his thumbs-up. "Bingo."

Michael’s hand rose to his chin, his movements slow and thoughtful.

Years of reading Earth’s web novels and manhwa had left him with more than enough knowledge about towers to work with. And considering how closely this world had followed many of the same rules as the fiction he had read back on Earth, he was willing to bet that his knowledge of towers was similar to how they functioned here.

If that were the case, the strange readings suddenly made perfect sense.

The measuring devices could only penetrate the lowest floors. Anything beyond that would remain a blank wall of unknown rank, making it impossible to determine just how dangerous the tower truly was.

And judging by the sheer number of missing explorers, the upper levels clearly sat far beyond the danger of an ordinary Babylon-class rift.

’Hmm... does Seraphine know about this? Is this why she—’

Michael’s thoughts were abruptly cut off when a solid hand settled on his shoulder and tugged him back to the present.

Michael blinked, tilting his head up to stare at the blond mercenary.

Kael shook his head, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and mild concern. "You alright? You were mumbling under your breath."

Michael exhaled through his nose and straightened. "I’m fine."

He glanced down at the parchment again.

There was no point sitting around trying to piece together a mystery from scraps of information. If this tower really was like the ones from Earth, then he would have more than enough knowledge to work with. If it wasn’t, then he would simply have to figure everything out from the inside.

Besides, if Seraphine had truly sent him here on purpose, then entering the tower might help him grow stronger, figure out why she had fallen for him so quickly, or perhaps uncover whatever secret she had been planning to tell him.

Michael folded the parchment and handed it back to Kael. "Help me register a team, will you?"

Surprise flickered across Kael’s face, followed almost immediately by a crease of concern. "You plan on leaving this evening?"

Michael shrugged. "No reason to wait."

Kael rubbed the back of his neck and let out a long breath. "Haah... I won’t even waste time trying to talk you out of it. You’re clearly set on going."

He reached beneath the counter and pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment. A dark-ink seal dominated the top corner, depicting an eagle in full flight with its wings stretched wide.

"All right, then. Who are the unlucky souls coming with you?"

Michael’s gaze drifted across the tavern as he considered his options.

Raven was obvious. As for his other male companion, besides Kael, Grolm was the clear choice. His raw power alone would be useful in direct combat, and he seemed fairly easy to control.

His eyes continued sweeping across the room until they locked onto a figure seated alone in the far corner.

The auburn-haired healer sat with her back half-turned to the room, one elbow propped on the table and her chin resting in her palm. Thick waves of rich auburn hair fell to her shoulders, catching the lantern light in warm copper highlights.

She wore a loose white tunic that somehow strained across her enormous chest, the fabric pulled tight enough that the soft curves and deep cleavage were impossible to miss. A short black skirt hugged the full flare of her hips, while the sheer size of her breasts drew the eye even at rest—full, soft, and clearly more than a handful.

She nursed a half-empty cup with an expression of mild boredom, completely unaware that she had just become the subject of Michael’s consideration.

Michael lifted a hand and pointed. "Her too. That makes four."

Kael followed Michael’s gesture, then looked back at him with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. "You sure about Emma? She’s a solid healer, no question. But she can be a little..."

He slowly circled one finger beside his temple. "You know..."

Michael glanced over his shoulder.

Emma had noticed the attention. Her eyes narrowed into a fierce glare, her expression making it look as though she were seriously considering walking over and eating him alive.

Michael simply turned back to Kael and offered a small, unconcerned smile. "Don’t worry. I’ll survive."

Kael set the pen down after scratching her name onto the form. A hint of weary pity crossed his face. "If that’s what you want, I won’t stop you. Just remember, I’m not the one who has to tell that crazy woman about this."

He turned and slid the parchment into a wooden slot behind the counter. "I’ll fetch Grolm and get Raven her battle armor. Everything else is on you."

He paused, then glanced back at Michael. "If that psycho somehow agrees to join you, come to the back room for the gear."

Michael gave a short nod and left the counter without another word.

As he crossed the room, stares followed him the entire way. He could feel the weight of dozens of eyes tracking his every step, and honestly, it was getting damn uncomfortable. Still, that discomfort was nothing compared to the urgency of the mission.

He crossed the tavern in steady strides and stopped beside Emma’s table.

"Hey," he said warmly, offering her a polite smile—the kind that would have made most women, especially an older beauty like Emma, blush.

Emma merely answered with a glare sharp enough to cut glass.

Michael ignored the awkwardness, pulled out the chair opposite her, and sat down. He then extended an open hand across the scarred wooden table.

"I’m Michael, by the way. Nice to make your acquaintance."

Emma scoffed.

Her arm rose and wrapped beneath the heavy swell of her soft chest, deliberately lifting it just enough to make the gesture unmistakably provocative.

"What’s so nice about meeting you?" she asked coldly. "Planning to punch my nipples again?"

A short, awkward laugh escaped him. "In my defense, I held back quite a bit, considering you were aiming for my head at the time."

Emma clicked her tongue and looked away, her annoyance obvious.

Honestly, Michael found her entire act rather amusing. Part of him wanted to tease her a little more, but he had more important things to deal with.

Slowly, a smirk tugged at his lips as he leaned back slightly. "Want me to massage it? I’m quite good at it."

Emma’s head immediately whipped back toward him, color flooding her cheeks. She jerked backward so hard that the legs of her chair scraped against the floor, both arms flying up to shield herself.

"Pervert!"

A few nearby heads turned at the sharp outburst.

Emma immediately ducked her chin, the flush on her face deepening to a vivid red. She muttered something too low for Michael to catch before releasing a long, resigned sigh.

"What do you actually want? I doubt you walked over here just to say hello."

Michael rested his elbow on the table and leaned his cheek against his hand, a small smile playing across his lips. "What if I came just to say hello?"

Emma let out an irritated huff. "Playboys like you are the absolute worst. You damned gigolo."

Michael chuckled. "Gigolo? That’s rude."

He sighed before straightening slightly. "Well, you’re right. I didn’t come here just to say hello. Actually, I came to ask you something important."

Emma raised a brow. "Ask me?"

Michael nodded. "Yeah. You see, I’m planning on conquering a rift, and I need a healer."

He leaned forward slightly. "So, how about it? Willing to join my squad?"