Chapter 639 - Harvester

Most of the people here are C rank, same as me. When the raid party, expedition, or whatever they call it is put together, the rank is one of the things they check. D ranks are straight-up rejected, even though it's very rare for someone of that rank to get this deep.

The color for the C rank identification emblem is Ivory White. So far, I haven't seen anyone here with the Royal Blue of B rank.

As our group of over 100 attendees moves through the first floor of Beyond's dungeon, part of me wonders what ranks Faora and Luan are. If they reached the 13th floor of the tutorial, they are probably at least an A rank.

I don't think they were S-rank, definitely not Faora. She was strong and certainly skilled, and her mental abilities were undoubtedly useful, but she still felt lacking to me. I've met multiple people with the Pride subclass, and for example, Jean´s pride, though he is weaker than her, felt much stronger. Her pride just seemed too… brittle.

Plus, from what I've heard, there are usually only around 10 people at any given time with S rank in the entirety of Beyond. Out of hundreds of thousands of people from Hell difficulty and tens of thousands in Beyond, for only 10 of them to reach S rank is insane in its own way.

Obviously, there are levels within each rank. It's nothing official, but there can be a huge difference between a fresh B rank and one close to turning into an A rank. But I gave up a long time ago on trying to simply classify people's power levels that way. There are just too many factors to consider and too many variables that can change the outcome.

Our group moves deeper into the 1st floor, and once again the monsters start attacking us. I move into position and use ranged attacks to bombard the skeletal creatures and deflect the strikes thrown at us.

While not perfectly coordinated, our sheer numbers are enough to safely deal with smaller groups of monsters that move around here. Everyone knows our estimated time of arrival near where the portal was spotted, so as that time gets closer, the mood shifts.

The tension that has been there since the start grows tighter. The weak, almost nonexistent trust built only on a shared goal is now showing how fake it always was. Just a bit more, and everyone will become the same sacrificial lamb. The others are willing to throw people at the monster just to slow it down so they can reach the next floor.

Even if the monster turns out to be weaker, everyone will pile on it, and the survivors might fight for the possible loot.

But I don't think I would have it any other way. It's weirdly comforting as it is now.

The area around us starts to change slowly. We pass over smaller mountains and move through the dozens of valleys winding between them, all following that one local who knows the way. There are no breaks, and I don't think there will be any. People here are high-leveled enough to push like this for days without sleep or food, and that is exactly what we do.

The longer this goes on, the more I appreciate the older Local leading us. Not once does he use a map or any kind of sensing skill. He just guides us from memory until the point where he stops. And even then, he doesn't hesitate for too long. He pauses only when there's a split in the terrain, like he’s recalibrating his internal compass. Then he moves again, always sure, always steady.

Later, I watch from a distance as he talks to the temporary leader of the expedition. Then, followed by the other locals and a few attendees acting as guards, they head back the way we came.

As their group passes by me, Duncan stops by for a few seconds, and smiles, “Good luck. I’ll see you later.”

I nod in acknowledgment and follow our group, which now moves at a slower pace. Even now, no one uses wide range scans or tries to fly high into the air to scout ahead.

Only about ten minutes later, we climb to the top of one of the mountains and see the valley below, completely barren. Its sides and the surrounding mountains are scorched and cracked, filled with craters.

Two pillars are carved into the stone, with a simple wooden door standing between them. A long pathway leads to the door, made of worn cobblestone with bits of grass growing through the cracks.

And in front of that door:

[Reanimated Harvester - lvl ???]

A twisted humanoid skeletal creature with no lower half, dragging itself with its long, uneven bone arms. Its spine and the bones beneath its rib cage dig into the ground as it pulls itself around. All over the valley and into the mountains, there are hundreds of ditches carved from its passing.

The monster itself is as big as a multi-story building, even without its lower half. Its head is skeletal like the rest of it, but the skull is unlike anything I’ve seen. It is humanoid, but there are no openings for eyes or ears. The surface is smooth, with only a small opening where the nose and mouth should be.

There are also remains of what I guess is a previous expedition. Dozens, possibly over a hundred, bodies scattered in the area near the portal. There is no way they all died in just that small place, so the only logical conclusion I come to is that the Harvester killed them and gathered them there.

It's becoming clear that we are not the first group to attempt this route to the second floor.

It could easily be more than a hundred people, and just not much of their bodies remains to recognize it. It's hard to estimate how long they lay there. With how high level we are, our bodies do not rot that quickly, and I long since learned that some people with high Constitution might take years for the process to start. It is yet another reminder that maybe we really do stop being something that could be called human.

Of course, there are still monsters above monsters, like a certain Absolute Healer from the third floor. After thousands of years, she looked like she had just fallen asleep, and even in death, the processes continuing in her body were enough to destroy the world.

I filter out these thoughts and listen to the conversation that erupts between the participants of this raid. Unsurprisingly, everyone is blaming everyone else. I mean, seeing those bodies lying around, it isn’t that unreasonable to think that some of us might be members of the previous expedition who survived and now brought more sacrificial lambs to slow down the Harvester while they again try to enter the second floor.

Or maybe they discovered a weakness in the monster during the previous raid. They might be counting on this group to weaken it and slow it down. That way, they can exploit the weakness, finish it off, gather the items already on the ground, and reach the second floor. Most of the people from this raid dying would be the most optimal solution as well, allowing for a bigger share of the already existing loot and the additional loot from the people here.

At the same time, it is also obvious that there is no way the expedition will just be canceled after discovering this, and we will not simply head back. No, most of the people here are cocky enough to believe they will survive and triumph over the others.

I watch as, unsurprisingly, a few attendees begin moving away from where the larger groups have gathered to argue. These are secondary members of groups, trying to make diplomatic moves and join multiple groups in defense against others.

A few of them even reach me, but I completely ignore them and continue to observe the raid monster. After a few attempts, they give up and leave.

Someone in the back whispers a theory about the monster using the bodies for energy, or as a medium for some skill. Another suggests it might be feeding off them slowly, pulling something out over time.

One of the more aggressive factions tries to start a vote: who fights, who distracts, who pushes toward the door. It’s a joke. Half the people ignore it, already forming their own alliances, speaking in hushed voices, or exchanging dark looks.

Then someone laughs. A dry, joyless sound. It comes from a tall man in a patched brown cloak, standing at the edge of the group.

He points at the monster with one hand and says, “It’s just bones. Big ones, yeah, but bones. Out of the guardians I heard about, this must be one of the weaker ones.”

I almost admire the attempt. The stupidity. Or maybe it is bravery. Maybe just plain greed.

Even after all of this, the preparation starts slowly, but there’s no clear command, no single voice giving orders. Just scattered murmurs and movement. A few begin drawing inscription lines in the dirt with mana-conductive paint, pacing out distances, double-checking with some items. Dozens of skills are used, and mana signatures of over a hundred people begin to mix.

At this point, there is no way we are not noticed, but the Harvester still does not react.

The more organized groups start forming their own clusters, separating from the rest of the crowd. Some individuals remain alone, lingering near the back or choosing high ground. And everyone watches everyone else, making sure each person moves to attack and there are no freeloaders.

There is a disadvantage to going in for the melee, but that also means you will be closer to the portal. I myself keep a mid-range distance. Not too close and not too far, the range I’m most comfortable with, where I can either rush into close combat or pull further back.

The Harvester remains still.

I shift the movement of my mana, place the last marks, and prepare to activate the structures created in the back of my mind.

Conversation almost fully stops, and only short questions remain, mostly logistical. I filter even these out. The sounds around me fall into silence. The colors lose some of their intensity, and mana rages just below my skin.

Someone begins a countdown that echoes across the area. It isn’t planned, but everyone seems to accept it and begins getting ready.

"Five."

"Four."

Armor surrounds me, more durable than I usually form it, skin-tight so it doesn’t hinder my movement. Even now, my subclass influences its shape, giving it that rough, elegant, yet practical beauty.

"Three."

The colors around me drain further as [Eclipse] activates, wrapping me in a bubble where only mana retains its color.

"Two."

My Mana Wavelength Iris activates, locking onto the monster, which now stands still, no longer dragging itself around. Its head slowly turns toward the largest cluster of people, and it lifts its bone arms.

"One!" the man shouts.

Dozens of people move. Attacks activate and launch at the monster. Some are surrounded by barriers, domains, or armor and move slowly, each step cracking the ground beneath them. Others are fast, barely more than blurs as they rush downhill, covering long distances in the blink of an eye.

Projectiles rain down. Mana, primordial energies, and enchanted items flood the space.

Finally, the Harvester moves and raises one of its arms into the air. Purple mana begins to seep around it, slowly forming the shape of a bow with a string. Its other arm shapes five arrows from the same mana and sets them in place.

Then, a pulse explodes with the monster at the center. It touches everyone in the area and leaves a mark on each one of us.

As the attacks start clashing against the Harvester, it releases the arrows into the sky. Trails of purple light remain in their trajectory. They twist midair like whips and dive downward.

These arrows, as large as tree trunks, pierce through people like they’re made of paper. They track their targets like living things. They punch clean holes through mountains and catch even the fastest runners.

And as those arrows grind into nothing after killing half the expedition, the Harvester calmly nocks and releases five more, completely untouched by the barrage of attacks clashing against that bony body.

I watch as one arrow heads toward me and don’t even attempt to block it. My eyes stay locked on it as I finally read the mark placed on me. My skills activate one after another as I unwind the mark, break it down to nothing, and dissolve it.

I shift my footing, then use a boost to move aside as the arrow tears past me, twists midair, and slams into another attendee to my left.

For a moment longer, I observe how my mana clashes against the Harvester’s. I watch how it reacts to my skill and how useless my tricolored orbs are. Even the damage from [Empyrean Lance] barely registers.

Sensing it is about to release another pulse to mark people again, I use one of my stored marks and teleport away, back to the top of the mountain where I had stood before. From there, I watch the Harvester send out a few more pulses, but none reach this far.

The bow and arrows disappear from its hands. Then it begins dragging itself forward with those bone limbs again, gathering what remains of the attackers around the door.

Now more than ever, it looks like it is setting the bait.

Giving it one last glance, I turn away and walk toward where the survivors have gathered.

Only nine of us remain out of over a hundred.

That clash didn’t even last a few seconds.

***

Next Chapter