“You know, Sharon, I didn’t think you would look even hotter after a workout,” a man in fancy black and silver robes said with a smirk.

“You know, Joseph, I didn’t think you were attracted to boar’s blood and intestines. You sure are kinky, huh?” The woman under the bloodied metal armor responded with an indifferent attitude. Although her attire looked heavy and durable, giving others the impression that she had the role of “tank” in the team, her actual job is that of a [Blade Dancer]. Sharon was not particularly good at it. While it looked cool to swing around two swords in a fight, she never had the right balance of natural agility and dexterity to prevent herself from getting hit. Too scared to get into serious fights with this impediment, she took a highly frowned upon route for a [Blade Dancer] and invested heavily in armor. She figured that if she couldn’t avoid getting hit, then she might as well reduce the damage she takes as much as she could while dishing it out herself.

Other [Blade Dancers] see her build as an absolute waste. Still, with the way that she teases and flirts with others for favors, not many bother to call out such a ridiculous set-up to her face. She might flirt a lot with people, but Joseph wasn’t one of them. He never took the hint though, and he was too good of a mage to kick him out of the group. When he was sober, at least.

Joseph was another odd one. As impressive as his robes may look at first glance, a second or third would easily reveal that it is all flash and no substance. With his job of [Barrier Mage] he should have been a top pick for any adventuring party, easily complementing or even replacing a traditional tank as needed. However, his addiction to Moonglow and his constant drunken - but sometimes sober - advances on women marked him as one of the least desirable members on any team. The best he could do is act as a tank for this group.

“Honestly, that does sound a little hot,” remarked Yazmine, decked out in her leathers and metal bracers for additional protection. An unorthodox choice of protection for a [Healer]. It was unknown why she refused to take one of the stronger support jobs, like [Cleric] or [Priestess], and instead rely on the barely magical [Healer]. One eyebrow raised, she continued, “All sweaty and messy and begging to be cleaned...yum.”

The last woman of the group, wearing metal plated leather armor in a proper balance, shook her head. “Sometimes I can’t tell when you’re joking and when you’re serious,” Rachel said, her long rather long hair joining the motion, “but either way, you sound nasty.” She then giggled suddenly, despite no one saying anything funny. It was a side effect of her rather unusual job, [Dragon Breather]. Many unfamiliar with the job would think it far more impressive than it actually is. While some would imagine her breathing flames powerful enough to melt stone, in reality, it simply fits her smoking habits. Rachel keeps a stash of various herbs on her person and lights them up in her pipe during battle, breathing out long plumes of different types of smoke. Often enough she is only good for two or three such actions before the effects of the herbs hit her, and then she is lost in happy day dreams until the end of the fight. It is a job that, for those who are aware of the details, makes people really wonder why it exists.

Louis, discreetly leering at all of the women, or at least he thought he was being discreet, opted not to comment. His mind was more focused on selling off his share of the loot and getting his next fix. It wouldn’t be too long before the shakes began again and he didn’t want to let his dexterity drop too low. As a [Knife Fighter], he needed to be able to accurately stab his enemies’ vital spots and cause as much damage as possible. If his attacks missed too often or got too sloppy, he would likely be kicked off the team. And that’s saying a lot, considering how screwed up each person here already was.

The leather clad man actually did not need to worry so much. All five adventurers, if they can barely be called that, were the lowest dregs of society in one way or another. Some of them hid their flaws well enough to avoid scrutiny, but their skills, or lack thereof, were much more difficult to conceal. Thus, they slowly migrated together and formed their own group, more out of desperation than any real desire to work together. So far they did not tear each other apart, and even survived a handful of dungeon dives together. That was enough to solidify their bond.

Their party had just finished a run in the F ranked boar dungeon, the lowest ranking dungeon on the planet. Despite it being F rank, it provided a fairly stable, if low, income. They could easily hunt for boar skins to sell to leather workers, meat to save or sell, and experience points to raise their levels. It was a slow, uneventful grind, but slow progress is better than none. At the end of each run, they would gather up the loot, sell what they could, trade or discard what they couldn’t, and split the profits among each member. They typically just manage to make enough to settle in the cheapest room and board they could find, and a little extra for their own...side activities.

As they made their way to the tunnel leading back up to the surface, completely ignoring the other dungeon entrances around them, they passed a rather large stalagmite. If Joseph was a more competent mage. If Louis, the group’s scout, was not distracted by his fixation on his next Speedwort dose. If the party as a whole were not exhausted and actually paying attention to their surroundings. Maybe, if one of those details were different, the future would have been far different from what it became. Maybe, just maybe, so many lives could have been saved. Maybe not theirs, but untold others.

But this is not a world of “maybe”s. Instead, they walked past, oblivious to the harbinger of doom lurking just behind it.

And thus, the best chance to prevent the greatest disaster this world has ever faced was lost forever.