My Ex-Girlfriend is the Strongest Guild Master and I'm the Weakest!

Chapter 127: Healing Capitalism (Part 1)

Chapter 127: Healing Capitalism (Part 1)

There comes a time when Guilders stop raiding Dungeons. When a guild has already covered all the necessary jobs to gear up all of their members head to toe, like smithing, jewel-crafting, and enchanting, there is only one thing to do: Brag... In PVP, of course.

Ah, yes... The fine art of ranked Players vs Players matches, streamed to all the Navinet. The Novus' equivalent of sports. The universal fascination of watching well-trained players compete with each other, no matter the format--or where it's being held--had not been lost.

Currently, in Eurola's central region, 15 guilds have registered for the Emberforge Trials tournament that holds preliminary matches before an even bigger event during summer.

For those who cared, each match was important... and especially stressful. It was not uncommon for guilds to tragically disband mid-season after a post-match disagreement or for some of their members to suddenly quit. Some people were not built to endure the pressure, some did not like to receive orders, and some just really, reaaally were not good team players.

So there was a market for 'Temp Players'.

[ "Did you find out that your resident Healer was sleeping with your girlfriend so you have to kick him out of the guild--After literally kicking the crap out of him first? Is the next important match in two days and you're in urgent need of filling that spot? Oh, do I have news for you, hypothetical, troubled Guild Master! I can fill all your healing needs and I promise not to glance at your beloved even once! Hire someone with experience. I have references! Hire someone that is not afraid of getting their hands dirty. Just ask anyone that had the pleasure of working with me. Hire me!" ]

Temp Players... They usually get offended for being called that. Some prefer to be called Freelancers, Hired-Competitors, and even Mercenaries--although this was not a real war.

Nicholas Laflamme did not find the term 'Temp' offensive in the slightest and instead embraced it. Once, a drunk guilder called him a 'dirty Temp' loud enough so that everyone in the pub could hear him. In response, the cleric snickered and toasted, "At least you didn't call me a 'healing-capitalist whore'. So cheers for that!" Which prompted the entire place to erupt in laughter.

But that was six months ago. In the present, Nicholas had been contracted to enter the PVP arena once again by a Guild Master that only cared about the results. And Results with capital R he's got...

Nicholas checked his reflection in the restroom's mirror, finding a man with curly black hair and tired pale blue eyes staring back at him. A cleric of average physique and average height. A White Mage whose tunic made him look even shorter and puny. So that my contractor's masculinity doesn't feel threatened... But what marvelous dimples he had! Which helped him achieve the perfect smile. Even more perfect to sell them whatever shit I want them to believe.

He then examined his facial features, enhanced by the Novus' Avatar rendering by default, giving him a relatively handsome appearance. It'd be more suspicious if I was ugly, wouldn't it?

And after practicing his smile for a tenth time, someone knocked at the door and called him aloud, "Raven, the boss wants to see you before the match!"

"In a sec!" Nicholas replied in a squeaky voice, glancing at Raven one last time. "It was a pleasure working with you..." he murmured to the mirror before walking out.

Henrik was waiting outside and with a grunt gestured Raven to follow him. They crossed the long hallways of the Idunia stadium without uttering a word to each other. The floor was exquisitely polished and their path was completely illuminated by golden lights that made the posters plastered on the walls stand out. The faces of the most successful players looked back at Nicholas, making him snicker. Too bad that my face will never appear in one of these.

He watched his custodian's large, muscular back. The back of someone who surely had worked hard to come this far. What a pity.

A couple of minutes later, they crossed a double door adorned with golden intricacies. Inside, a single man awaited in front of a wide window that offered him a complete view of the arena; the festive voice of the announcer was carried by speakers installed at every corner of the room. A table full of snacks and a bucket filled with iced bottles of beer stood out in the center.

"Raven," the man called, deviating his gaze from the current match.

"Friedrich," the cleric responded, taking a seat in front of the snacks table. Henrik did the same and immediately grabbed a handful of nuts.

"What is going to be then, Raven?" Friedrich began, turning around to show a wide smirk. His blue eyes reflected a palpable youthful energy. "Will this be your last rodeo with us, or have you finally come to a decision? Will you join us?"

Nicholas could feel the other set of eyes staring at him. He looked back at Henrik, the one who had always been in opposition to hiring him. Nicholas lowered his head. "Is that okay with you, First Officer?"

"I eat my words, okay?" Henrik gruffly said, wrinkling his nose. "Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Something more elaborate would've been nice, but that's okay too," Nicholas replied in a soft voice, turning his attention back to the Guild Master. "Look, I'll be honest with you. I haven't come close to an answer just yet. But that doesn't mean I won't give my everything in this match. I'll perform at my 100% in the arena, like always, and think about your offer after we're done celebrating. Okay?"

"Is that your cordial way of rejecting me?" Friedrich sighed, his smile never leaving his face. "I thought that after all this time working together you'd stop being stubborn. But that's the way you are... I guess. Speaking of offers..." Friedrich paused and manipulated his User Interface. Seconds later, a pop-up window appeared in front of Nicholas. "What about this one? Help me train a healer as good as you before the Inferno Cup II begins, and you'll get this. In addition to a biweekly salary, of course."

Nicholas examined the virtual window's content, showing an Epic-tier white mage staff. Its stats aren't half-bad, eh. I could sell this at a very good price.

Raven chuckled nervously. "T-This is quite generous! Let me please think about--" A second window popped up beside him.

"And this brand new Flying Mount," Friedrich interrupted while he prompted a third virtual window to appear. "Plus this robe."

Nicholas came out with a quick estimate of the three promised gifts' values and pursed his lips. This is a little fortune... And yet...

"Friedrich," Nicholas giggled, barely able to look his contactor in the eye. "Are you trying to bankrupt the guild?" He then stood up slowly and grabbed three iced bottles. "Let's see tonight's results before making a commitment like this, please?" Nicholas smiled modestly and offered them a beer. Henrik stared at the bottle consciously before accepting it, and Friedrich took his without hesitation.

"Sure! Think it through all you want. But would you really reject an offer from the soon-to-be winners of the next Inferno Summer Cup?!" Friedrich exclaimed at the top of his lungs as he toasted.

"I'd be a fool, wouldn't I?" Nicholas muttered as he sipped his beer and made sure that the others did the same.