Babu cracked his neck with a low chuckle. "Let's see what kind of goblin cult thinks they can take us on with champions. Haha."
Seris didn't smile. Her eyes stayed locked on the gate.
"They better be right about that classification."
Redman checked his watch.
"We move out in fifteen. You threego meet the fans. Build your base. The world's watching now."
Nanami's eyes narrowed as he spotted movement in the distance.
"Three of them are headed this way. got questions, sir. Gin? You wanna ask them yourself?"
Gin squinted toward the approaching figures, barely interested. His gaze drifted past them landing squarely on the one figure who did matter to him: Guild Master Redman.
He tilted his head, voice low and casual.
"So… how long does it usually take to clear a dungeon? Or kill the boss?"
Gin wasn't really asking anyone in particular, but Tabaki answered anyway.
Gin noticed Iwaizumi shifting uncomfortably, his posture tightening the closer the newbie heroes got. It was as if he were searching for a place to disappear blending into the crowd of supporters, watchers, and curious onlookers.
Tabaki scratched his jaw.
"Well... it depends," he said finally. "Some dungeons take hours. Others can take days. That's why scouts and analysts are so important if you don't know what's inside, you can't prep right. Supplies, rations, suited squad members hell, even sleep rotations if it's a prolonged run."
He glanced at the Gate pulsing in the distance.
"But judging by this one... doesn't look like the kind that needs full kits or long-haul prep. . So it's probably a short one unless things go sideways."
Gin clicked his tongue, eyes still on the Gate.
"Good to know should be easy for redman then."
"Well," tabaki finally said, "it's hard to say. Dungeon Hunters are all about experience, not just stats or flair. But they're definitely not people you joke around with, Sir Gin. Even Prime ranked as the number one hero is really just the public's favorite. Doesn't always mean the strongest."
Tabaki didn't even blink.
"Guilds shouldn't be allowed to claim gates like some property. It doesn't make sense if you think about it. What if they can't defeat the boss inside the dungeon?" he muttered. "Too many unnecessary laws. Too much politics."
"That's when they call in the federal hunters," nanami replied. "That's why we have a federal list
Gin blinked, confused.
This world was a mess.
Back home his real world everything made sense. Strength had rules. Structure. Meaning.
You trained. You fought. You survived.
There were realms, chi flows, sect hierarchies, You trained under masters and endless skies to climb. He had lived over 2,350 years walking that path. Bled for it. And was even ready to Die for it.
Here? Everything felt upside down to him.
He scoffed inwardly. "Magic awakening?" What kind of system had a deadline? And worse your power was random? A damn lottery. What if you pulled something useless? What if you awakened… wrong?
In his world, power wasn't a gift.
It wasn't a roll of dice.
It was chi cultivated through blood, patience, and resolve.
You didn't wait for it.
You built it.
You became it.
You earned every sliver of strength with bitter meditation, shattered bones, and cold mountain winds.
And now, in a world of pulses, dungeons, and Gate-licensed chaos.
He remembered his early years Breathing techniques under the stars, drawing in earthly chi.Tempering his bones until every punch cracked boulders.Slowly carving open his meridians,cultivating the flow until his Dantian swirled like a storm.Surviving his first heavenly tribulation, lightning tearing through the sky as the heavens tried to erase him.
And when he'd reached the Golden Core Realm, the stars began whispering to him.
He made it all the way to the edge of Ascension where gods were born before he transmigrated. The blood-soaked battle he didn't regret and loved every minute of it against katsu.
That was the life he understood. Where strength meant clarity. Where you knew what you were fighting for, and what price you'd pay.
Now?
Now Where the strongest "hero" might just be a public favorite, not even a warrior purely based on his powers.
Chief Megnon had tried to explain.
"It's a lottery, Gin. Nobody knows what they'll get until the pulse calls."
But no one had explained why.
Why this world didn't cultivate.
Why didn't m flow through it like it did in his own.
Why power now came from cores and pulses, awakenings, and mysterious dungeons appearing without forbidden relics, ancient artifacts, or any cultivation principles only harboring monsters.
And if what he heard was this awakening was law. that 18 was the last stop for awakening then what the hell did that make him at 27?
A reject?
A latecomer?
Fodder?
Back to square one after living over two millennia as a cultivator?
The thought burned.
In his old world, age meant wisdom. Power. Respect.
Here, it felt like a clock had run out before he even arrived.
He looked down at his hands the same hands that once shattered a demon's skull with a single strike. Now, they were just flesh. No chi. No flow.
"What kind of power puts a ceiling on the sky?" he muttered.
In his world, even the weak could claw their way up. You just had to be willing to bleed, to sacrifice, to do the unthinkable.
Was that what this world demanded of him too?
He missed home. The simplicity of struggle. The brutal poetry of cultivation.
Where the path was long but at least it was yours.
"Wait the MPAs," Gin muttered, eyes narrowing in thought. "Nanami mentioned something about them being pulse-to-pulse fighters, right?"
His gaze drifted, mind racing.
"If I could just watch how real fighters move, how they think… maybe I'd finally start to understand how this world's power works. There has to be a loophole somewhere."
Then, snapping back to reality, he looked up.
"So where are the MPAs? When do we go?"
Before anyone could respond, a wave of cheers erupted from behind them.
"Woooohooo!"
"The Speedster!"
"The Twins!"
"Syan!!"
"Ryo he's so hot!"
"Sign my chest, Nathan!" someone screamed from deep in the crowd, voice shrill with excitement.
Gin turned toward the noise, baffled by the eruption of praise. Even at the peak of his strength in his old world, he had never been a fan favorite. If anything, he was met with boos, suspicion, or outright fear.
He wondered, just for a moment, if he would ever hear that kind of praise directed at him.
"I wouldn't mind signing a woman's chest," he muttered, then shook his head. "Focus, Gin."
He noticed Iwaizumi subtly shifting behind him, using Gin as a shield against the oncoming trio of heroes.
Then Gin heard the voice bright, confident, and unmistakably charismatic.
"Thank you thank you, everyone, for coming!"
It was the Speedster, beaming at the crowd as if born for the spotlight.
Gin glanced at Tabaki, then let out a quiet sigh as he felt Iwaizumi unconsciously grip his arm tighter. Leaning in, he whispered,
"What's wrong with him? Why is he… scared?"
Tabaki whispered back, eyes flicking toward the approaching trio.
"That's his old friend Nathan Crest."