The Great Western Kingdom: Re-Estize.

Surrounded by mountains, forests, and lakes, it was often praised as a peaceful and secure nation.

But those who truly understood the reality knew better—it was a kingdom quietly crumbling in real-time.

Yet, at least on the surface, its capital showed no signs of such decay.

Street vendors called out to passersby, crowds bustled through busy roads alongside rickshaws, and livestock-drawn carriages rolled along neatly paved stone streets. At a glance, it looked like a prosperous capital of a thriving empire.

And in truth, the city of Re-Estize—bearing the same name as the kingdom—was still intact.

As the royal capital, directly ruled by the king himself, the influence of the nobles was somewhat restrained.

More importantly, nobles and commoners alike dared not stir up public disturbances within this city.

Over half of that order could be attributed to the towering man now walking down the street.

"Tch. This filthy, stinking city never gets any better…"

Snorting loudly and scowling with clear disdain, the massive man drew wary glances wherever he looked.

People instinctively lowered their heads or hurried to the side, clearing a path for him without needing to be told.

It wasn't out of fear of retribution. Their bodies simply reacted before their minds could. That's how overwhelming, how dangerous, how utterly untouchable the atmosphere around him felt.

"If I weren't so close to going back, I'd just ignore it… tch."

His name was Monkyspanner.

Monkyspanner El Dragondream. Current head of the famed and unmatched adventurer clan, Dragon's Dream.

His name was known to everyone in this city—save perhaps for infants and complete fools. Even enemy spies couldn't help but know it. He was the head of a clan so powerful that its name shook the world. Even in foreign lands, his reputation echoed like thunder.

And yet, Monkyspanner himself couldn't care less about such fame. What use was glory to him? What could he possibly gain from it?

Frankly, he usually never bothered stepping outside at all. Most matters were dumped on others. Why should someone of his stature walk through this filthy city in person?

"Well, not like I had a choice. I sent all the others back."

He sighed quietly.

As the leader of the strongest adventurer clan in the world, Dragon's Dream, his power—and the strength of his clan—was beyond any reasonable comparison by conventional standards.

Even excluding the various international branches, the adventurer parties stationed just within Re-Estize alone were overwhelming in scale.

One Adamantite-ranked party

Three Orichalcum-ranked

Seven Mithril-ranked

Sixteen Platinum-ranked

A total of twenty-seven elite parties operated under the Dragon's Dream banner.

Each party had at least five members, sometimes more than ten.

Even so, the total number of adventurers under their name in the capital barely exceeded 200. But all of them wielded magic items and were high-ranking adventurers.

Even a typical Gold-rank party was considered equivalent to a small army. So what did that make the likes of Dragon's Dream?

Moreover, these adventurers weren't simply self-made.

They had been carefully selected—people with promise, talent, or trustworthiness—regardless of their prior rank.

They were trained, evaluated by performance, and granted magic items—refined and reforged time and again in Divine City—before being officially recognized.

Among them, some even went on to start families, raising their children to follow in their footsteps. For most adventurers, the job was a gamble—a way to get rich or die trying.

But for the members of Dragon's Dream, adventuring was life itself. It was their profession, their pride, and their legacy.

They owed everything to the clan. And so they offered their loyalty and reverence in kind—almost like religious devotion passed down through generations.

Unlike most free-spirited adventurers, their loyalty to the clan was absolute.

They willingly took on the most dangerous missions, even risking their lives without hesitation.

They had been seen, acknowledged, and rewarded accordingly—so they threw themselves fully into their cause.

Over the past 150 years, nobles and powerful elites had tried to win them over, tempting them with wealth or influence—but few ever defected. After all, what could a noble offer them? Gold? Status?

What's that compared to everything they already had?

But the clan offered more than just strength and experience. Simply belonging to Dragon's Dream was enough to earn reverence from the world.

The reputation and legacy built over 150 years—the weight of an unseen but undeniable name—instilled in its adventurers a powerful sense of pride and identity.

Bathed in the honor and glory of that name, as the world looked up to them with awe, they began to realize how lucky they were to be part of it—to feel special.

And from that moment on, they were reborn… not as mere adventurers, but as warriors who would gladly give their lives for the clan.

These were no ragtag mercenaries.

They were battle-hardened, disciplined, equipped with magic gear matching their power, and above all—utterly loyal.

If called upon, they wouldn't hesitate to lay down their lives. Call them a knight order masquerading as adventurers, and few would argue otherwise.

Their combat strength alone was said to rival that of entire nations.

Yet the one at the helm of all this was none other than Monkyspanner, a senior officer dispatched from the capital of Divine City.

While one of the Twelve High Priests resided in the Re-Estize Kingdom's headquarters, other branch leaders in foreign lands were handpicked officers from Divine City.

Except for the notoriously stubborn Theocracy, every human nation housed a branch—and every branch had a designated Branch Head who handled all local affairs.

But now… those officers were gone.

In preparation for Divine City's withdrawal from external affairs, they had begun retracting their influence.

One by one, the key leaders quietly wrapped up their affairs, handed over the bare minimum of succession, and returned home.

It had caused a bit of turbulence, sure, but considering that clan heads rarely showed themselves in public anyway, the transition was smooth.

Any Divine City-related records were wiped clean, a capable successor was chosen, and the former leader simply disappeared into quiet retirement.

Now only Monkyspanner remained.

The last to finish his duties. The one left to tie off all loose ends. As the head of the original bloodline that carried on the clan's 150-year legacy, there was a lot to wrap up—connections, intelligence, succession…

Just thinking about it made his head pound.

"Tch… if only I could just wipe everything clean and be done with it."

He hated desk work. He was no strategist, no administrator. If he had his way, he would've just blown up the whole clan and walked away.

But that was impossible.

A clan with 150 years of history—one that commanded fear and respect worldwide—couldn't simply vanish like smoke in a day.

That would raise too many questions… and possibly draw the attention of those Players who had fallen into this world.

That's why the "shell" of the clan had to remain.

Even if the heads and branches were gone, the public-facing work had always been done by the members.

As long as someone could act as a focal point, the entire structure wouldn't collapse overnight.

By Divine City standards, these replacements were barely children. But out here in the world? More than good enough.

The thought made Monkyspanner smirk bitterly.

He had lived in the outside world for nearly 20 years now. It was filthy, primitive, and full of disgusting savages… or so he'd thought. In hindsight, maybe a few people had earned some measure of human respect from him.

…Had I grown attached without realizing?

Clicking his tongue, Monkyspanner raised his head.

He'd wandered into a place where no one else was in sight. The narrow alley barely had room for two people to pass.

Though it was daytime, shadows clung to the corners, and quiet stares peered out from small, cracked windows.

This was the kingdom's underbelly—a vile, rotten place just a few steps away from the capital's bustling streets.

Monkyspanner's keen senses picked up a stench far fouler than anything on the main roads.

The reek of rotting food and waste, the stench of unwashed flesh, and something even worse—something that made civilized disgust seem quaint by comparison.

It smelled like living things decaying while still alive.

Blood, thick and boiling. Pus, bile, and bodily fluids dried into a sickening crust.

There was a fetid haze of listless, hopeless lives clinging to every breath of air. It was as if the very essence of human depravity had gathered here, condensed into one festering place.

Even Monkyspanner couldn't keep his composure.

His already savage, monkey-like features twisted, revealing a row of sharp fangs. He hadn't fully revealed his nature yet—but he was close.

"Tch… That infuriating woman… One last headache to dump on me before I go, huh?"

Irritation. Revulsion. Anger.

They all boiled up and spilled out in a low, beast-like growl as Monkyspanner ground his teeth.

On his hand, the gold-plated gauntlet he favored when dealing with the outside world shimmered—[Clumsiness Slayer], the Immaculate Executioner.

Gripping it tightly, Monkyspanner released a subtle, chilling bloodlust into the air.

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