“Hey guys, Fomalhaut here, Fomalhaut07. A lot of people have been talking about bugs in the idle part because the options keep changing, like here, I have it set to auto-sell one-stars, right? I did that the first day, then it changed back, then I did it again, and . . . yeah.

“But anyway, my advice is don't worry about it. It's just extra stuff, and like, it's not that much gold, right? If you already upped Hillie's skills, what does it matter, right? So don't worry. Plus you should be using that fodder for your SRs anyway if you haven't, right, because a lot of people say, like, I don't think everyone appreciates what SRs can do.

“They say, 'Oh, I can't beat this,' or, 'This fight is too slow, I can't farm it,' and like, if you don't have the URs all the whales use in their streams and stuff, there's always some SR that can replace, I mean it won't do as good a job, but good enough. Everybody knows Hemt is good, the winter one, but, and Crusher Domingo too since he got the Class Evol, but just think, Manyana didn't get it because she didn't need it. Right? So just wait for them to fix it and don't worry.”

Brenlond, the country where grass something adventure something Chapter 1. Ten Rares, eager yet worried yet confident yet unsure, composed themselves and again entered the dire canyon.

“Do we remember how to fight this time?”

“Hit them!”

“OK, go!” Clyse's party ran toward the first Scorpture spawn, shears raised and crossbows loaded, buffs ready to be activated by officers who indulged in that sort of frippery. The birds descended again to enforce their claims of mastery over the canyon, but this time they terrorized no one into retreating. Ulrik killed one after another, the three Floods combined their efforts to achieve the same effect, and Clyse made full use of her Quake elemental advantage, reaching Nova before even the Reaper.

“This is a new beginning! Grand Opening!” A building appeared behind her sealed by a ribbon which she cut with gigantic shears while a crowd around her clapped.

“Four out of five.”

“I object. What does it even do?”

“It gives me Selfless Redirect, Inferno Fortification, and Regen.”

“Yeah, but why? The cause and effect are unclear. You see mine and immediately understand it.”

“Exactly. Grand Opening has its own style and makes you think, so I gave it a four. Yours is just some fantasy thing.”

“This is a fantasy game!”

“So play it!”

“I will! This is my last fantasy! Flames of Dovesk!” The Scorptures enjoyed that no more than they had the first one, and Ulrik used the gap between waves to press his point. “Besides, these are Storm enemies. Reducing damage done by Infernos accomplishes nothing. Flames of Dovesk can do anything.”

“Ulrik, please remember that I didn't give myself that four.”

“Clyse. I will never admit that I did forget. Here they come.”

The third wave at last experienced the Novas of the elementally disadvantaged non-Reapers. Dennet went first. “C'mon artists, give me a good one! Desperate Defense!” He kicked over a table, knelt, and launched bolts all around at a rate that might raise accusations that he had been slacking off earlier. “That's it? Two out of five, and only because of the table.”

Ulrik almost dropped his sword, and Clyse came close to snapping her shears shut on her own neck before she recovered herself. Never before had the Rares borne witness to such integrity and painful introspection as that, proving that their souls had been confined to no less a degree than their bodies for all those two years and more, or less for Vinnette and Clyse.

Next, Vinnette Melban. “My one direct heal! Emergency Diagnosis!” Placing both hands on the head of her caduceus, she planted it in the ground and released a circle that highlighted unspecified people all around her in light green as it passed.

“Threeeeeeeeeee. I think. Out of five.”

“Tough time judging?”

“Well, the bio-infrared thing is cool, but it doesn't really go anywhere. Still pretty good for a Rare.”

“Oh . . .”

“This is the height of my ability! Complete Inspection!” Reginald checked his clipboard and pointed into the distance where explosions popped up.

“One.”

“Yeah.” Reginald sighed. “Yeah, no disagreement here. Oh. Is that . . . ?”

A white object fell to the gravelly canyon floor. The Rares held their breath and still it remained. Releasing their breath did not disperse it into fairy dust or trigger a transmutation into gold. A Scavenger Dagger sat ready for the hand of the brave, its edge promising to cut the veils concealing the unimaginable future where Rares got to do something, such as show up in a sauna during an event or be placed in the rearmost row of an anniversary celebration illustration. Though it did not shine with the same eye-catching luster, the Rares loved it more than gold. If anything, they felt strongly anti-gold at that point.

They might have stared for hours, appreciating, if only the structure of Vigilant Patrol allowed it. Instead, the four non-Medics dived for the dagger before the next Scorptures could show, bumped their four heads together, and collapsed in front of the prize before collecting themselves and scrambling for the hilt, reaching out with one hand and shoving three competitors with the other. Vinnette walked over and prodded them with her staff so as not to be left out.

“This isn't getting us anywhere.” Dennet pulled back and settled on his knees. “We need to make a quick decision here. First, we all agreed Medics and Warpers need gear the least, right?”

Three heads nodded, but a fourth had something to say. “I don't recall any agreement along those lines. Come to think of it, we ought to have considered this situation earlier, but we neglected to.”

“Oh no! Reginald has amnesia! We can't let him have a dagger. It might be dangerous.”

“I do not have amnesia!”

“Oh no! He forgot he has amnesia!”

“I have a way to clear this up.” Ulrik stood and looked down on Reginald, plus he looked at him, too. “Reginald. Tell us what the difference between Reapers and Harassers is.”

“Reapers have a class bonus that increases their Nova Growth by ten or fifteen percent. Most of them are DPS that get mileage out of low-damage but low-cooldown active skills. The Harasser class bonus increases Speed by ten or fifteen percent. Most combine damage and support by attaching buffs and debuffs to their regular attacks, though those normally only have a chance of activation.”

“Wrong. Reapers are cool, while Harassers annoy everybody by saying their attack lines too much.” Ulrik shook his head. “He does have amnesia after all. I have to take the dagger for his own good.”

“Like he said, Harassers are all about Speed, which means I should get it and also I already took it. Hey, 525 Attack and 8 Speed, not a bad start.” Dennet learned then what most players and URs had forgotten, which was that numbers lower than 900 existed. “And Flinch Immunity, so now my attacks can't get pushed back. Hey, Ulrik. Why are you looking at me so sadly?”

“Flinch Immunity,” Ulrik said before putting a hand on Dennet's shoulder and turning his face away. “Flinch Immunity gives you a small chance every hit to become incapable of having an attack pushed back. Once. I have it as a passive. They . . . The designers never give Ultra Rares that passive. Or even Super Rares. It's far too weak.” He patted Dennet's shoulder and readied himself for the next wave. The others also ceased their dagger envy and left the wondering Harasser to reconcile himself to the shame of his first, subpar weapon.

During the next wave, he tried to justify it. “I'm tearing these things up now, even though they're Storm,” he said, and, “My Attack is double Ulrik's!” No one responded. What was there to say? And where did the dagger go, since Dennet still wielded a crossbow? Another consideration unlikely to lead to anything productive.

The blindest and most anti-math observers could tell idle mode drop rates had been slashed compared to those in Story or Suppression. Not until the fifth wave did any enemies disgorge a Storm Hawk, a Common officer the Scorptures had no doubt captured in order either to extract information or arrange a prisoner exchange with Freegate. The Storm Hawk stretched its neck, cried, and had begun preening when in accordance with previous discussions Clyse jumped on it and shoved the whole thing in her mouth.

“Not quite level 2,” she said, and burped some feathers.

“Let's salute our fallen comrade.” Reginald demonstrated. “Blame the designers for making you too delicious and too useless. Even by our standards.”

“They can't even Exceed Crush. Stuck at 90 forever. Poor guys.” Dennet shook his head.

“More players level up Eksaphite Sailors and Launch Crocodiles than Dennets.”

“Or Ulriks, but yeah, just look at how interesting their designs are compared to ours. It only makes sense. There's the next wave.”

Clyse, then Reginald, then Dennet, and finally Vinnette as far as the fodder rotation. First spear for Clyse, first sword or second dagger for Ulrik, second sword or third dagger for Reginald, last anything for Vinnette. For non-weapon equipment, or for items of less urgent use such as Broken gear and Pure Orbs, alphabetical round-robin. That was the plan the five Rares made to distribute the loot they could already feel in their hands. When it came to the alts and story appearances they hoped to receive, distribution had no place any more than plausibility did.

Clyse already had armor by the time Ulrik filled the first of his eight gear slots with a Scavenger Sword that he wished not to admit had Flinch Immunity for its set main stat and Flinch Resist for its set substat. “440 HP main and 170 sub, 590 Attack main and 0 sub, 7 Speed main, 4% Critical Chance and 7% Critical Effect sub, Flinch Immunity main and 9 Flinch Resist sub. Typical white sword with higher Attack and lower Speed and HP.”

“Thank you, Reginald. Now take a look at this.” Ulrik grabbed Reginald in a headlock. “These are the arms of someone who knows how weapons work. They speak! They tell you, 'Spears give more HP than swords and daggers. Your life will end before you see one.'”

Reginald slipped under Ulrik's loose grasp and spoke. “On the subject of living through empty threats, I had the impression the battles in this mode were supposed to increase in difficulty continuously. But we're still fighting Scorptures doing 30-ish damage and Clyse probably has a thousand HP by now.”

“I'm happy to report that it's 1,638, as it happens.”

“These two arms say you have a point. They also say tank Champions use spears. We all know that, arms.”

“If we advance . . .”

At that startling yet plausible suggestion, the Rares walked deeper into the canyon, just as Cadmos once did to aid a group of travelers whom he discovered to be refugees of Alben's sudden conquest of Perandra Regna, refugees they knew as Ostros Perandra, Anstralia Perandra, Gralles Alianura, and Plimos Senera.

“I don't know any Plimos Senera.”

“That particular character has not been implemented as an officer yet. The speculation is that it's because he's old and wrinkly.”

“Good.” Dennet ran a hand through his full, voluminous blond hair.

“You were right, Vinnette. Ready for our new enemies?” Clyse raised her shears against the incoming Basilisks, whose dreadful gazes and uncanny reptilian motions failed to disconcert the Flood and Inferno Rares. They saw nothing but the little brown Quake icon.

“My time has come,” said Ulrik in contemplation of adding the 20% extra Nova Growth from elemental advantage to his class bonus, while the Floods for the first time could live a life without disadvantage. Elementally, anyway. They were still Rares.

“I wonder how the other group is handling this! Flames of Dovesk!”

“Players normally get through this chapter half an hour after they start a new account, so probably quite handily,” Reginald said while consulting his clipboard that most certainly did not have statistics about player clear times.

“Let's pick up the pace then.” Dennet overpowered basilisks with his dagger and gained his second level soon after when he offered instant retirement in his belly to a defeated Basilisk that defected, joining its conquerors as a Common. Only the high-Flinch Basilisk attacks slowed him down even a little, and that at no time but when his Flinch Immunity failed to proc. Which was most of the time. The group as a whole ran forward through the canyon over the ephemeral corpses of Basilisks and later Scorptures alongside Basilisks, not to mention Basilisks alongside Scorptures.

By the time they started climbing out of the canyon, Clyse had joined Ulrik at level 3, the others rejoiced in level twoness, and all except Vinnette Melban had filled the weapon slot. Reginald cared little for his dagger with the customary disdain of the Warper who desired only big damage on big cooldowns, but loot cared little about what he or anyone else wanted.

“Then, when they thought their travails had ended, they ran across a fearsome Sectiger! Like that one.”

Just as Reginald indicated, a monster stood there, larger than two tigers stapled together and almost as angry. Six claws on the ground and six more in the air marked it as a valued customer of the nearest scratching post emporium. Its stripes spoke of blood, if blood were orange, which Leaznalo's perhaps was.

It snarled and batted Clyse with four of its foreclaws, ventral and dorsal. She survived the assault, but lost a good chunk of her 3,053 HP. Dennet saw that and said, “So, Reginald, about finishing this chapter in no time.”

“Story fights often have factors that reduce the difficulty. For instance, Ostros and Anstralia assisted as NPCs, and they're both Infernos in their SR forms.”

“Just like me! Finishing Strike! That does more damage if the target's HP is below 30%. I want you to remember that.”

“He's not even missing 30%, and it's not because we don't want it bad enough. Preparatory Bolt! I can shoot that into your back, I want you to remember. Oof!”

The Sectiger wanted to play too, and after Clyse's Taunt from Promotional Campaign expired, one of its upper claws started dribbling Dennet like a blue and yellow novelty basketball while another poked Reginald in the weak point of every Warper: his body. Clyse regained control of the situation before they relinquished their lives, but health bar researchers noted her bar had not recovered to its maximum while the Sectiger's had not declined as much as might be wished.

“I wish you'd just die,” Dennet complained, and courtesy prevented the others from asking whether he meant the Sectiger. Clyse at last succumbed. Dennet and Reginald followed her to the grave like servants of the pharaohs buried in that Egypt which served as a loose model for various buildings in Archens, whence Clyse hailed. Ulrik and Vinnette Melban struggled on, hand in hand metaphorically though sword in tiger literally. They fell with the Sectiger's health somewhere between 36.9% and 37.1%. More precision than that was impossible.

“I wondered if dying would hurt,” Ulrik mused. “I learned the answer is no as long as you get to watch someone else go first.”

“Back in the canyon. We aren't being paid to stand here. And before you say we aren't being paid at all, we're self-employed. Never cheat yourself.” Clyse hustled them back in, and their endless battle resumed.

Everyone reached level 3 from the Basilisks and Storm Hawks, as well as the Common Quake Lions the Basilisks sometimes dropped out of modesty, then stretched up on their toes to tap 4. A Scavenger Sword blessed Reginald, who tossed his Scavenger Dagger to Vinnette Melban. Daggers had to be her worst option, though Rares untested by the most demanding content had no idea whether swords or spears might be better.

“The main thing for Medics is living long enough to heal,” Dennet said in favor of spears.

“Responsibility for that is more on her tank than her weapon,” argued Reginald.

“I want . . . a sword . . .” Vinnette declared, which settled that.

The first boots went to Dennet on account of their 2 Speed that became an incredible 2.2 with the Harasser class bonus, the first gloves to Ulrik owing to its 30 Nova Growth converted by Reaper magic into 33, and the first helmet to Vinnette because Warpers needed, wanted, and deserved nothing but big Attack. When even Reapers had 2,680 HP and Medics had 790 Attack, what had a Sectiger to do but die? The Rares returned, and that time they did the dribbling, which is harder to do with a crossbow than Dennet made it look.

“I can't believe it. A boss, defeated.” Reginald took off his glasses and wiped his eyes with his hand. “Even my impossible dream seems possible today. I've never told anyone, but since I was first recruited, I yearned to be an Eclipse.”

“You've definitely told us that.”

“Every single day.”

“We all knew . . .”

“Oh. Well, it hasn't stopped being true.”

“Fantastic! We have to have goals,” Clyse encouraged him. “I plan to be the first Eclipse R myself, then an SR, then an Eclipse SR, then a UR, and then . . .” She paused.

“An Eclipse UR?”

“Do you think that's too much? Maybe a holiday UR first would be more reasonable.”

“Every step in your plan is completely unreasonable.” Ulrik pointed his scimitar to the infinite horizon. “Now forward! To challenge Chapter 2! And reason itself!”

“Chapter 2 has Flood enemies, as I recall,” Reginald said.

“Now stay put! Kill the boss a few more times! It comes back, doesn't it?”