I Became a Raid Boss-Chapter 132: Raid (3)

“With Yuki joining, that makes two of us...”

Daeun spread her arms wide.

“Now we only need six more people.”

“...‘Only’ six?”

“Of course. With Yuki, our strongest ally, it makes sense to say it’s only six.”

“Ah, I see. Makes perfect sense.”

“....”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Was she always this shameless?

Then again, if she weren’t shameless, she wouldn’t keep challenging Kana despite being defeated every time. Nor would she have ignored the complaints of her viewers to stream 24-hour, no-sleep, no-chat grind sessions.

And then there was—

Whack!

“Eek! Why’d you hit me all of a sudden?”

“Your gaze was disrespectful.”

“...Punishing someone based on suspicion alone violates the principle of presumption of innocence.”

Daeun didn’t realize that her reaction only confirmed Yuki’s suspicions.

Yuki withdrew her hand after delivering her light punishment.

“Do we really need a full party? There’s no entry restriction, and two people should be enough, shouldn’t it?”

“As strong as you are, Yuki, that’s impossible.”

“...?”

Yuki tilted her head, clearly not understanding. Daeun sighed.

“You’ve never done a raid before, have you?”

“I haven’t joined a party, but I’ve taken down a lot of bosses.”

“I don’t mean just bosses. I’m asking if you’ve ever participated in content classified as a ‘raid.’”

“...No.”

“I figured as much.”

The term “raid” was first introduced in an MMORPG, where it referred to dozens of players teaming up to tackle a special boss or dungeon. Over time, as more games emerged, the concept expanded into various forms.

Some players argued about what qualified as a raid, saying things like, “Can this really be called a raid?!” or “This isn’t a raid!” But regardless of those opinions, plenty of content bore the name “raid.”

“Sillia Online’s raid system adheres to the principle of ‘multiple players working together.’ It’s not something you can beat just because you’re skilled or high-level.”

Of course, being high-level and skilled would make it easier to clear, but—

‘If a player as powerful as Kana ever emerged, they might solo low-level raids, but...’

Some games had systems that limited players’ levels and stats to prevent that, but Sillia Online had no such restrictions.

“The boss has a pattern where six people need to step on platforms while the remaining two endure high-damage area attacks. If you don’t clear the pattern, it triggers near-fatal damage across the entire map. Do you think two people can handle that?”

Unless you had overwhelming power to defeat the boss before the pattern activated or enough defense and health to survive the damage, it was impossible at their current level.

“Journey doesn’t like combat content much, does he?”

“I’ve done my homework.”

When your body isn’t suited for something, you make up for it with your mind.

...Or was it the other way around?

Daeun scratched her head. Either way, she’d known enough beforehand to easily absorb new information.

“Every raid boss, except for one, followed that kind of format. And even that one...”

...eventually became like the others.

Daeun held back the rest of her thought and let out a bitter smile.

Yuki, watching her with an unreadable expression, exhaled lightly.

“So how are you planning to gather the remaining six?”

“Recruiting them won’t be hard.”

If Daeun and Yuki asked their viewers, “Anyone interested in joining the raid?” they’d be swarmed with volunteers.

The issue was their skill level and whether they’d cause trouble. That was the downside of open parties, or “pickup groups.” You had no idea who you were getting.

But what choice do we have? Neither Yuki nor I are part of a guild.

If you don’t have teeth, you make do with your gums.

“Not the best atmosphere around here,” Yuki remarked, glancing around.

This chapter is updated by freēwēbnovel.com.

“Well, it’s that kind of time,” Daeun replied, agreeing. A stray thought crept in: So she can read the room, after all.

“It’s probably because of the extermination order. People wouldn’t want a trash heap built in front of their house, let alone a bomb sitting nearby—especially one that’s almost guaranteed to go off.”

“Why not just cut it down before it explodes?”

“...Are you serious?”

“That was a joke.”

“It didn’t sound like one—”

“—It was a joke.”

“...Fine, I’ll take your word for it.”

If Yuki had been serious, Daeun might’ve genuinely wondered if she was some kind of primitive savage.

She decided to trust Yuki’s claim, though she didn’t find it particularly convincing.

“So where are we headed now?”

Daeun gave Yuki an incredulous look.

“...I told you earlier that someone offered to help, so we’re going to meet them.”

“You did?”

“I had a feeling you’d say that.”

Yuki’s blank reaction was typical.

I think I’m starting to understand what kind of person she is.

Ignoring Yuki, who seemed to have a perpetual question mark floating above her head, Daeun looked around.

They were supposed to meet nearby...

"Journey!"

Hearing her nickname called, Daeun’s head whipped around.

A familiar-faced man was sitting at a café terrace, waving at her.

Daeun grabbed Yuki, who was once again standing blankly, and dragged her toward the man.

“How have you been? Wow, it’s been forever!”

“This is the first time we’ve met in person since the war.”

“Ah... I really owe you for that. If it weren’t for you, things wouldn’t have worked out so well.”

“...I doubt that. Things would’ve turned out the same even if I hadn’t stepped in.”

Fine gave a wry smile. Back then, he’d only gotten involved because he was annoyed by the other side picking a fight. Looking back, it probably wasn’t even necessary for him to intervene.

Whatever the grunts had to say, a single swing of Kana’s blade would have silenced them equally.

But Daeun shook her head, disagreeing with his assessment.

“Kana said she liked how we stood up to the imperial knights despite being no stronger than chicks. If you hadn’t stepped in, the imperial knights wouldn’t have even shown up.”

“Really? It played out like that?”

“Of course.”

Hearing it that way, it didn’t sound wrong...

“So, in Kana’s eyes, we looked like chicks chirping against a predator, huh.”

Considering Kana’s overwhelming strength, it wasn’t surprising, but it was still a little unsettling. Fine’s expression turned slightly sour.

“Enough about the past,” Yuki interjected, her impatience obvious.

“What do you mean by helping? We’re busy, so get to the point.”

“Can’t we even exchange pleasantries?”

“You see me all the time on stream. What’s the point of pleasantries?”

“You’re hopelessly unromantic.”

Clicking his tongue, Fine moved on to the main topic.

“After the extermination order was issued, we held a vote in our group to decide whether to challenge the raid or not. The result was split exactly fifty-fifty.”

“And which side were you on?”

“Of course, I was against it.”

If Fine had been a regular player who enjoyed raids, his stance might have been different.

But he wasn’t, and unlike Yuki, he didn’t have the thick-skinned indifference needed to ignore public sentiment.

“What? You voted against it, but now you’re offering to help me?”

“Why not?”

Fine narrowed his eyes and gestured for Daeun to come closer. Picking up on his intention, she muted her stream’s broadcast audio and leaned in.

“...Helping you gives me a good excuse to maintain public favor. I can do what I want while looking good at the same time. It’s a win-win.”

“...Wow.”

Daeun couldn’t help but be impressed.

“You’re scarier than I thought.”

“Come on, let’s call it ‘pragmatic.’ Besides, even without that, I’d have helped you.”

“Why?”

“Because it benefits my stream. And who knows? If I play my cards right, I might get a trickle-down effect.”

“Wait, so it’s the same thing in the end.”

As expected, it wasn’t pure goodwill.

But Daeun wasn’t disappointed.

‘Does a lack of purity negate good intentions?’

This wasn’t the time to nitpick between altruism and self-interest.

In fact, his transparency made him more trustworthy. Knowing he had clear reasons for helping meant she didn’t have to worry about betrayal.

‘Not that lying is impossible...’

If Fine did stab her in the back, his stream would explode like fireworks.

“What about your raid group, Fine? Are you leaving them behind?”

“That’s why I called you here. Like I said, the vote was split. Normally, I’d decide whether we proceed or not and lead the group accordingly, but this time, I’ve decided to change our approach.”

Fine flexed his fingers as he counted. Four and four.

A frustratingly even number, he thought, folding the fingers of one hand.

“Those who don’t want to participate can sit out. Only those who want to join the raid will take part.”

Since Fine, who had opposed the raid, had switched sides, that left three slots open.

The number of fingers he now held up reflected exactly that.

“What do you think? Would you like to join as temporary members of our raid group? It’ll be easier than gathering six new people.”

Fine grinned confidently.

“This is a pretty well-known group, you know.”