Registration for the bus was a massive affair held at the Anslake family mansion. The fee was 50,000 Zen. Any raider with a history as a porter was eligible, but those without who simply wished to learn were also welcome.

Baron Momonte split the applicants into two streams: the Pradio side and the Anslake side. Pradio represented Count Dinnen’s bus parties, while Anslake represented his own. Unsurprisingly, most raiders flocked to the former. Despite the guild affiliations, Count Dinnen’s influence was immense, making his parties seem far more trustworthy.

‘Just as he predicted, they’re all flocking to Dinnen’s parties at first,’ Momonte thought. ‘But the turnout is much larger than I expected. At this rate, the Anslake parties will have more than enough members to operate properly.’

The line for the Pradio side snaked far into the distance, but there was a hard limit on party size. Each bus party was capped at ten members, plus a leader. With hundreds of applicants, they couldn’t possibly accept everyone. As a result, raiders began signing up for the Anslake side as well.

“I came all the way from the North. Is it true that proficiency and Zen will be distributed evenly?” one raider asked a staff member.

“Of course,” the staffer replied with a smile. “And for those who’ve traveled from other regions, we’re offering a discount on your second trip. It will be only 40,000 Zen.”

“Oh, really? In that case, sign me up.”

As word spread, raiders from other regions began to arrive. Among them were not only former porters but also many who simply wanted to learn how to fight. Watching the endless procession, Viscount Momonte felt his confidence in the bus plan solidify.

“Valona,” he said, turning to his daughter who stood silently beside him. “Your father may have joined hands with a demon, but I will do whatever it takes to become the ruler of the West.”

“…Yes, Father.”

“Ah, my daughter. Forget about being a raider and live comfortably here with the family. The day will come when the entire continent will have to respect the Anslake name. When it does, you will see that my choice was the right one.”

He didn’t know the full extent of the humiliation she had suffered in Balak. She had been an empty shell since her failed raid, her thirst for revenge eclipsed by his own ambition. The prosperity of their family, he told himself, was for her sake.

The first day of recruitment was a resounding success, and the plan was proceeding smoothly.

—

Meanwhile, Gelix observed the crowd from a distance, a knot of suspicion tightening in his gut.

‘Something isn’t right,’ he thought. ‘The date Heimdall opened and the date the bus plan was proposed to Count Dinnen… there’s a slight gap, but it feels as if the dungeon was opened specifically for this plan.’

The number of guild raiders had exploded recently. Baron Momonte had filed his reports to Count Dinnen, but as the guild’s influence grew, so did Gelix’s paranoia.

‘Count Dinnen may not think much of it—he’s a proper noble who understands hierarchy—but I’m not so easily fooled.’

He had already planted some of his own raiders, disguised as participants, in the Pradio parties. The use of information-gathering items was forbidden on the bus runs. If Balak discovered that Dinnen’s spies were among the participants, their reaction would be telling. He could use that to expose whatever scheme Momonte was plotting.

“I’ll have to wait and see,” he muttered to himself. “Still, all this business with the Count… I’ve been craving a smoke more often these days.”

His eyes fell on a shop popular with raiders. Pulling his hood low over his face, he headed inside to buy some tobacco.

—

Bus Day 1. The day of the official launch had arrived. With participants far exceeding the available slots, some forty bus parties began to depart in sequence. Their destination was the Heimdall dungeon, located within Balak’s territory. As a newly opened C-rank dungeon, it was the perfect training ground for novices.

‘I’ll get hit with a rank penalty, but a full clear should still be possible,’ one of the leaders thought.

The participants were C-rank novices who could barely fight, but the raid leaders were top-tier B-rank veterans handpicked by the noble families. If they chose to, they could ignore the penalties and simply destroy the dungeon’s crystal core.

However, the leader, a man named Thornes, shook his head. His orders from Count Dinnen were clear: pose a threat, but nothing more. Even if they reached the final room, the crystal core was to be left untouched for the next party.

“All right, listen up! We are the Thornes Raid Party, the very first bus. We’re about to enter Balak’s territory. Does anyone need any last-minute supplies or items?”

“Uh, my equipment durability is a little low,” a participant said.

“I hear dwarves have set up repair stations in the passage ahead,” Thornes announced. “They’re selling all sorts of items, gear, food, and even camping supplies. We’ve been given a stipend from the family, so don’t worry about the cost. Buy what you need.”

“Wow! I’m so glad I joined this bus!” a raider cheered.

The others erupted in enthusiastic agreement. In truth, there was no family stipend, but making a good first impression was crucial.

‘The raid leaders are also being evaluated by the participants for bonus pay, right?’ Thornes mused. ‘So even the instructors are paid based on performance. With two noble families backing this, the pay should be enormous. I just need to win these guys over.’

He wouldn’t gain much of a performance score from this, but the pay for being a bus instructor was several times what he’d earn clearing a few B-rank dungeons. With the bonus system, he wouldn’t even have to work that hard.

[You have entered Balak’s territory.]

The party entered Balak’s territory and headed for the main passage.

“That mark must be for the bus parties. Looks like they’re starting today.”

“The red mark means a top-tier B-rank, right? They’re supposed to be training novices, but will it actually work?”

“Look at the blue marks. Those must be the newbies. Aren’t they embarrassed? Heh.”

The other raiders stared and whispered. The bus participants bristled at the mockery, but Thornes waved them forward into the passage.

“Ignore them,” he said. “I can’t be certain, but once this bus system is fully operational, I think their attitudes will change. For now, look ahead.”

Thornes pointed down the passage. The participants stared in wonder at the sight of dungeon residents and dwarves.

“We dwarves of the Rough Rock tribe offer perfect equipment repair!” a dwarf bellowed. “Bring your gear, raiders!”

“Fresh fruits from the Silent Forest!” an elf called out. “We also have Valdaren and Enis herbs for sale! Come take a look!”

“Handmade robes and clothes here!” a human woman advertised. “We have food and supplies for your journey! Please, look around!”

Stalls lined the passage, all doing brisk business with the raiders.

“This is Balak? I heard stories back in the North, but I never imagined it was like this.”

“This is how it is. Come on, let’s buy what we need, just like Thornes said.”

“Right. I’m getting my gear repaired first.”

After resupplying in the passage, the participants continued on toward Heimdall.

—

[You have entered the C-rank dungeon, Heimdall.]

[You will be moved to the Colorful Hill.]

[You have arrived at the first area.]

The moment they stepped into the cave, the scenery transformed. Thornes, leading the first Pradio-side bus, stared in bewilderment at the whimsical landscape.

“What kind of dungeon is this?”

“Wow, look at the clouds! They have faces drawn on them!”

“It feels like a children’s playground. What are all those things scattered around? Honey pots?”

The Colorful Hill was a fantastical place, designed to evoke a sense of childlike wonder. Everything was adorable.

[Bearbear’s Resting Place]

‘Bearbear’s Resting Place,’ Thornes read. ‘So this is the first area. It must be divided into areas instead of rooms.’

Having raided numerous B-rank dungeons, he was familiar with various layouts. He calmly led the participants along the designated path.

“I’ve never seen a structure like this before,” he explained, “but in unfamiliar territory, the first rule is not to panic. The standard procedure is to use a vision expansion scroll.”

To earn a high evaluation, he had to provide clear, professional guidance. He kindly explained everything from party formation to the use of exclusive items as they approached the first group of dungeon soldiers.

[Violent Bearbear]

[Ferocious Bearbear]

[Prickly Bearbear]

Three teddy bear dolls came into view. They were undeniably cute, but they were still dungeon soldiers, and he couldn’t let his guard down. He raised his shield and moved to the front.

“A raid always centers on its shieldbearers,” he lectured. “As the shieldbearer, I’ll demonstrate. Your primary role is to draw the enemy’s attention first.”

“Bearbear?”

“Bear?!”

The teddy bears turned their heads. As a top-tier B-rank raider, Thornes easily blocked their charge.

Then, an explosion suddenly erupted from his shield.

“Gah!”

“Gasp! Thornes, are you okay?”

“Look at that! Those Bearbears must be incredibly strong! They got Thornes!”

Their leader was rolling on the floor while the participants watched in horror. The respectable raid leader from moments ago was now being swarmed and kicked by a trio of teddy bears.

“Bearbear!”

“Bear!”

“Ugh! You little…!” Thornes’s face flushed with shame as he shoved the bears away. The C-rank soldiers’ attacks hadn’t hurt him, but the embarrassment was immense. To be taken down by stuffed animals while trying to show off was mortifying.

‘Damn it, I could die of embarrassment,’ he thought. ‘Getting kicked around by C-rank mobs. I have to get serious now.’

Determined to save face, Thornes proceeded with the utmost gravity.

—

That day, the first bus raid was a colossal failure. Though led by Thornes, a top-tier B-rank shieldbearer, the entire process was a complete mess.

“This time, watch carefully. This is a one-time-use skill—”

‘BOOM!’

“Damn it! All right, this time I won’t let my guard down. I’ll block those teddy bears by my—”

‘BOOM!’

“Damn it all! Which one of you bastards keeps casting explosion magic?! This is the last ti—”

‘BOOM!’

Every time he tried to demonstrate something, Thornes was sent flying by an explosion from the C-rank soldiers.

“Is that guy really a top-tier B-rank raider?”

“They’re just C-rank mobs. How much damage can a little explosion magic do? He just looks pathetic.”

“Aish, I had such high hopes for this. What a joke. If I’d known it would be like this, I never would have signed up!”

The participants were thoroughly disappointed in their leader, and some began to openly criticize the Pradio-side bus parties. They had paid a 40,000 Zen fee for this. They had come full of excitement, only to watch the leader they respected get repeatedly knocked on his ass.

Momonte Anslake issued a formal apology to the participants, offered full compensation, and provided a free ticket for the next bus. As for Thornes, after suffering complete and utter humiliation, he was never seen again. Rumor had it he had withdrawn from the bus program entirely.

“Although the first bus party was not successful,” Momonte announced publicly, “we plan to continue the program. Unsatisfied participants will receive additional benefits and compensation, and our own guild-affiliated raiders will offer their services free of charge.”

By taking swift and appropriate action, Momonte Anslake kept the bus project running.

—

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep