Newbie's Quest: Awaiting Challenge
Chapter 3: A War God from the Rotten Zone

"A 3S-rated instance???"

"Damn, what luck this newbie has!"

"A 3S instance seems to have been opened less than 50 times across all districts, right?"

"The last one was opened by the Avalon Guild, wasn't it? I remember it took over 70 hours to complete."

"And the casualties were severe... even their deputy guild leader, who was least injured, had to recuperate for over a month." "District 1089 is in too deep. How are they going to survive this?"

"Sigh, they're doomed."

The comments were filled with laments, and the players' faces mirrored this despondency.

A tall, hot-tempered youth rushed forward, grabbing Ethan by the collar.

"What the hell were you thinking pulling a 3S? How are we supposed to get through this?"

The other players in suits and hoodies hurried over to defuse the situation.

"Let's not fight! There has to be a way!" the suited man played the peacemaker.

"Yeah, yeah," agreed the hoodie-wearing young man, before curiously turning to the suited man, "Bro, what's a 3S?"

"..." The man in the suit hesitated, lost for words.

Ethan, roughly handled then released, coughed twice but didn't take offense.

The comments continued to revel in the drama.

"Internal conflict?"

"Fight! Fight!"

"Stop fighting, please!"

Ethan's throat was still a bit hoarse. He gestured towards the storage lockers just as Red Riding Hood began to speak.

"Mommy said there are many bad people in the Happiness District, so please choose a weapon to defend yourselves, brothers and sisters." Ten people, ten different weapons.

Ethan was pushed aside by the tall youth.

"You pick last."

Ethan shrugged.

Fine.

No one would choose his pink, squeaky inflatable hammer with star patterns anyway.

During the weapon selection, they exchanged names.

Emily needed no introduction. The other female player, a white-collar worker, was Emma Thompson.

The somewhat clueless hoodie-wearing student was Oliver Wright.

The honest and straightforward suited man was Grace Evans.

The tall, irritable youth was Max Turner.

Among the remaining four people, there included a pair of brothers surnamed Smith.

The last two seemed timid and distrusting, reluctant to reveal their names.

No one pressed the issue.

Perhaps because few harbored hopes of survival, the weapon selection process was relatively harmonious, with no competition.

After everyone else had chosen, the only weapon left for Ethan was the inflatable hammer.

"An inflatable hammer? What kind of useless weapon is that?!"

"Such bad luck for the newbie! At least with an axe or scythe, you can fight or choose your end!"

"Is this Ethan guy not right in the head? Why isn't he afraid?"

"Could he be a high-risk NPC from the White Tower? I know NPCs are ranked from high to low risk..."

All but Ethan, who lacked the device, could see the comments streaming on the smart bracelet. Eight people cast doubtful glances at Ethan, the ninth being Oliver, who was clueless about the situation. Oliver approached Ethan.

"Bro, are you a high-risk NPC from the White Tower?"

His blunt question caused the other eight players and the live audience to tense up.

"Woah, woah! This newbie is too bold!"

"Where did this simpleton come from..."

"Oh no, is Ethan about to transform?"

Ethan looked back expressionlessly at Oliver, studying him for a long moment before speaking.

"Brother, what's the White Tower?"

""

...

Oliver hung his head.

"Bro, the comments are all about 'sleeping dragons and young phoenixes.""

"They're praising us, but don't get cocky."

Ethan hoisted his pink inflatable hammer onto his shoulder with a squeak, starkly out of place amidst the tense atmosphere.

Emily couldn't help but step forward, her hand gripping an iron axe.

"Ethan, how about I swap with you?"

"No need, I like this one."

Ethan was stubborn about it.

With everyone equipped, the game officially began.

Red Riding Hood led them out of the security room and into the Happiness District.

The group of nine was neither large nor small, but due to their unfamiliarity with each other, they walked loosely, without any formation.

"The best position for strangers in a team is in the middle. The suit guy and hoodie guy have it right, good for offense and defense." "The tall guy is reckless, taking the lead?"

"Those brothers at the back, that's the most dangerous spot, easy prey for mist or traps, no time even to cry for help."

"...why is someone sticking so close to the NPC?!"

The one close to the NPC was none other than Ethan.

Experienced players know it's best not to follow NPCs too closely, as they might turn into bosses at any moment. But for Ethan, who had completed the instance a thousand times, pale-faced Red was the only 'person' he knew. Their conversation was strangely cordial.

"Red, how old are you this year?"

"I don't know."

"Red, have you eaten?"

"I don't know."

"Red, is Grandma Wolf surnamed Wolf?"

"I don't know."

The comments paused for a moment, then erupted.

"Is he flirting with the NPC?"

"Such a meaningless conversation."

"The White Tower's NPC voice pack is so limited, only this one line."

"What's with Ethan's nonsensical questions?"

"So, is Grandma Wolf surnamed Wolf?"

The others also eavesdropped on Ethan and Red Riding Hood's conversation.

"Ethan," Emily whispered, cautiously not getting too close, "aren't you afraid of her?"

Ethan thought to himself, she's an old acquaintance.

He smiled slightly.

"Don't be afraid, such a cute little girl, everyone loves her."

Red Riding Hood, in tune with his words, flashed a row of eerily sharp teeth.

Although still in the guise of a little girl, this grimace was unsettling.

Emily stepped back two paces.

Emma Thompson grabbed her arm, whispering, "Don't get too close. I have a feeling this guy is off."

Emily, a naive college student, hesitated.

"Emma, I don't think Ethan's a bad guy."

"Do bad guys write 'bad' on their faces? Don't be too naive."

"But..."

Emily and Emma returned to the group, while Oliver jumped in again, his curiosity about Ethan seemingly endless.

"Bro, your hammer looks cool."

"Pretty, right?"

"But it doesn't seem practical."

"Ah," Ethan said with a meaningful look, "Young man, you don't understand. When you repeat something too many times, you get so bored that practicality doesn't matter anymore. You just want to do something different." "Bro," Oliver looked at him with undisguised admiration, "such a philosopher!"

"Did you understand?"

"No."

"Still a college student," Ethan sighed, "Aren't you a bit silly? How did you even pass your exams?"

"Bro, you're overthinking it. I was the only living person left in my class. The admissions office called me begging to enroll."

By this time, the team had passed the first street corner and was about to leave the second.

On the side of the road, a stack of delivery boxes twitched unnoticed by everyone, except for Ethan, whose reflexes were honed by experience.

Ethan remained unflustered, continuing his aimless chatter with Oliver. As he stepped over a half-torn red banner at the street corner, a human-faced spider, as large as a washbasin, screeched and lunged from mid-air!

The human-faced spider, true to its name, was a grotesque fusion of a distorted human face and a spider's body. Its bite was lethally poisonous, capable of sending its victim to the afterlife in an instant. How Ethan knew this was a story for another time.

The spider, nimble and cunning, targeted Oliver and Ethan, who were absorbed in their conversation. Oliver, facing Ethan and gesticulating animatedly, was oblivious to the imminent danger behind him.

Ethan reacted swiftly. With a slap, he pushed the unsuspecting Oliver aside. Simultaneously, he swung his left hand, switching the mode of his inflatable hammer to a vertical chop. The hammer now transformed, heavily punctured the spider's human face, splattering dark red blood!

"Damn!"

"Damn, damn!"

"What just went by? A spider?!"

"He took it down? With that flimsy hammer, and it's inflatable?"

"What's this newbie's background? Is he a newbie?"

"No wonder they say gods of war come from the worst districts."

"This reaction speed, these combat skills, pure genius! The major guilds must be scrambling for him."

"Not necessarily, could just be a lucky hit."

"The guy calling it a lucky hit is just sour! Wait till the live stream ends and watch the replay. That kind of strike takes a decade of skill."

The comments erupted wildly, and the viewer count in the livestream jumped from tens of thousands to hundreds of thousands in moments. Following the hot post "Life-and-Death Battle for District 1089 - Open Box and Enter Grave," a new topic exploded: "War God of the Rotten District 1089."

Inside and outside the instance, discussions swirled around Ethan, his weapon, and even the hidden meanings behind his conversation with Red Riding Hood.

Ethan, however, was preoccupied. He was being pointed at by Oliver, who was now sitting on the curb, his other hand covering his reddened face. "Bro... you... slapped me."

The impact of a big blow on a male college student's pride was immense.