Chapter 120: Foreign Healer (3)

Part 7

Voice chat listening is fine, but I won’t speak.

Adding friends is okay, but no guild invites.

Please avoid personal chats; they make me uncomfortable.

“Ki… Kimieolreommaem… uh…”

Cumulonimbus: Just call me RainCloud.

“Oh, sorry, I’m terrible with English,” BeefRibs replied.

The nickname sounded like something out of Arabian mythology, but BeefRibs accepted it graciously.

Though uneasy about what RainCloud might be thinking—something unreadable through text—BeefRibs brushed it off. No need to grill someone they’d invited.

“So, RainCloud-nim, I heard this is your first raid,” BeefRibs said.

Cumulonimbus: Yes, but I memorized the patterns from your videos.

What was BeefRibs expecting? The privacy conditions didn’t seem helpful for strategy, yet an odd anticipation about this self-proclaimed “RainCloud” lingered.

Maybe this run will be different. The thought wouldn’t leave. Their tired eyes sparked with life, their slouched body tensing with energy.

“I heard you use an unusual build,” BeefRibs said.

Cumulonimbus: You sought me out knowing that.

“Honestly, we’re getting bored of Phase 2. I just want someone—anyone—to show us hope.”

At the entrance of the cursed mansion, the raid dungeon’s gate, BeefRibs felt a surge, words spilling out. To whom or why, they weren’t sure.

“But, honestly, your gear’s barely at the cutoff, your build’s weird, and it’s your first raid.”

“Hey, BeefRibs-hyung,” a teammate interjected.

“Somehow, I feel like with RainCloud-nim, we can clear it. At least reach Phase 3—the devs’ official final phase.”

The characters on the monitors seemed to tense up. BeefRibs eyed RainCloud’s priest, with honey-colored hair tinged with orange, looking oddly innocent.

“One tank, six DPS, and a solo healer. Can we trust you?”

The calm voice carried heavy intent: Take responsibility for seven lives. Trust us with your back.

Cumulonimbus: Wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t confident lol. Let’s go.

The characters chugged doping potions. With a menacing aura, the colorful avatars stepped one by one into the maw of the cursed mansion.

Part 8

“The beast ahead isn’t like the knockoffs you’ve faced. It’s a different breed… but I figured you lot wouldn’t care,” said a silver-haired, red-eyed girl emerging from the shadows of the sparse trees in the moonlit courtyard. Her bared teeth gleamed with a smile—less encouragement, more warning.

“My guarantee of your safety ends here. Will you really challenge the Crescent Claw’s Vanguard?”

The adventurers didn’t answer aloud. Their leader, IWannaEatBeefRibs, nodded silently, gripping weapons tighter. That was enough.

“Good. Spill your blood to your heart’s content. I, Fenellen, will watch your pathetic dance.”

Snap. Her finger’s sharp sound echoed. The screen faded to black, then snapped to the dim mansion interior. A brief wobble of the camera stabilized, revealing a madman clutching a tattered spear.

Part 9

“Phase 1, same as always! No puzzle mechanics, just watch the cross pattern! Revives don’t reset, so don’t die!” BeefRibs barked.

As soon as they spoke, the raid boss, Crescent’s Vanguard, roared with a red exclamation mark overhead, charging. The main tank, TripleWhite, met it head-on, layered with defensive buffs and doping items that reduced the otherwise lethal attacks to minor damage.

First strike. A gap between patterns. Arrows, spells, and blades—not full power, but strong enough—rained on the Vanguard. During basic attack patterns, there was no need to micromanage characters.

BeefRibs scanned the party’s HP and status effects, hands moving nonstop as they briefed.

“Fan pattern twice, linear once. Two more basic patterns, then we cut DPS and watch for the next.”

Every six basic attacks, the Vanguard unleashed Reverse Cross, the so-called “cross pattern.” Not technically an instant-kill, its absurd damage made it one in practice. Better gear might change that later, but for now, it was dodge or die. With no delay after the sixth attack, the tight dodge window led most raid groups, including BeefRibs’, to play it safe—count five attacks and back off.

That was the plan.

Cumulonimbus: Trust me, keep DPSing. We can skip the second cross pattern. [Call of Miracle: Ready] [Swift Chant: Ready]

RainCloud’s chat popped up. Call of Miracle, a skill that pulled all allies in range to the caster, was powerful but had a long cast time. Most players skipped it to save skill points.

“…Haha, Phase 1’s boring as hell. Let’s try a time attack!” BeefRibs laughed.

—Raid leader?

“TripleWhite, hold aggro, keep its head locked. Ranged DPS, close to 10 meters, behind the boss. We slam DPS through the sixth attack, no cuts.”

The order baffled the team, but BeefRibs felt it. This new mercenary priest was about to show something, answering their doubts with gameplay.

“TripleWhite, no buff cycle screw-ups, right?”

—I can hold!

“Fifth attack!”

A blood-red flash shot from the Vanguard’s spear, piercing TripleWhite. The damage was minimal. The priest’s high-tier buff, Armor of Silence, timed perfectly, shielded TripleWhite for the next pattern—the cross.

“RainCloud-nim!”

Cumulonimbus: Yes?

That timing alone—BeefRibs knew. This player was different. Real.

“You’re insane—in a good way!”

Cumulonimbus: That’s a compliment… right?

Covering two patterns with one buff. Forcing a tight DPS window with Call of Miracle. BeefRibs finally understood why RainCloud chose Swift Chant. Why they chose priest.

“Of course! Sixth attack!”

As the Vanguard’s spear swept in a circle, red lightning crashed in a cross from the ceiling.