I Became a Raid Boss-Chapter 130: Raid (1)

Fine blinked.

As he looked up at the white domed ceiling that rose higher toward the center, a thought crossed his mind.

What was that construction technique called again?

He was sure he had learned about it in school, but it had been so long that he couldn’t recall. Not that he’d ever been particularly interested in architecture to begin with.

“Aah... what a strange ceiling,” he muttered.

Rising to his feet, Fine took in the tranquil scenery of the shrine, which seemed to soothe his mind. The fact that he had woken up here meant only one thing: he had died.

“Gaaaargh...”

“Uwoooaaah...”

Other raid members who had died alongside Fine began waking up one by one, groaning in bizarre ways. To an outsider, the noises might have sounded concerning, as though someone were gravely ill, but Fine paid no attention. He’d seen this too many times to bother reacting.

It was just one of their silly jokes, and he had no reason to waste energy indulging it.

“Graaaaah!”

As Fine ignored his teammates and checked his inventory, a sudden zombie-like growl reached his ears.

“Ugh... Aren’t you tired of doing that?” he asked.

“It’s part of my concept. Please respect it,” came the retort.

“Feels like I should perform an exorcism,” he quipped.

“Well, if you feel like it, then go ahead.”

Fine attempted an impromptu physical exorcism, but the “zombie,” who had already caught on, pulled their head back dramatically and avoided it. His effort was in vain.

...A mosquito?

It reminded him of those summer mosquitoes that would buzz around incessantly, disappearing as soon as he turned on the light but coming back the moment he gave up and lay down again.

Look at that—it was creeping back toward him as though he had surrendered.

“Enough. Everyone, come sit down,” Fine commanded, his tone resembling a parent catching their kid’s hidden report card.

This content is taken from fгeewebnovёl.com.

Hearing him, the raid members quickly gathered. Once everyone was present, Fine opened his mouth to speak.

“I’m not the only one who thinks something’s off, right?”

“Well, our raid group has always been weird,” one member joked.

“...No, not that.”

Yeah, the name’s already weird, tbh.For real lol, who even eats Hawaiian pizza? (Message deleted.)AAAAH someone’s dead!!!OMGGGGG.“Heresy is punishable by death,” Fine declared.

It was one of the chat rules on Fine’s stream: “No insulting Hawaiian pizza.” Violators were swiftly purged. As he dealt with a wave of offenders, Fine let out a sigh.

“You’re the ones missing out on the greatness of Hawaiian pizza,” he muttered.

Honestly, we’re not the pathetic ones...Shhh!Hush...!Hawaiian pizza is the world’s best pizza; it’s even in Goguryeo’s ancient texts.Is that why Goguryeo fell? <<<<< You’re out. Bye.Though there were some signs of rebellion, it was nothing he couldn’t tolerate. After all, Fine hadn’t named his raid group or himself out of a deep love for Hawaiian pizza; he simply enjoyed how much people hated it. He wasn’t genuinely offended.

Clap.

“Of course, it’s natural for our raid group to be weird, but is that really what you’re asking?” someone remarked.

“Should you really be saying that so confidently?” another retorted.

“Why not? We’re already known as the ‘No-Taste Raid Group.’”

From the back of the group, Lemonie hesitantly raised her hand.

“I... I think I know what you mean. You’re saying it feels like a raid, right?”

“Exactly.”

No one disagreed with Lemonie’s statement. They had only been joking around earlier, but deep down, they all felt the same.

If the definition of a raid was “a group working together to face a powerful foe,” then their previous encounters technically qualified. But that wasn’t what Lemonie meant.

“She attacked the person with the highest aggro instead of targeting the backline first, didn’t dodge or block attacks, and didn’t respond at all until we initiated. She even had attacks that seemed to follow a pattern.”

In other words, the Canary they had just fought acted in complete opposition to her previous behavior.

“She felt like any other raid boss,” Lemonie continued.

If the old Canary had been an unpredictable NPC who acted on a whim, now she seemed like a boss strictly following a preset behavior pattern designed by the developers.

“We’d need to try a few more times to be sure, but from what we’ve seen so far, the difference is obvious.”

“I even found myself wondering, ‘Is this the same boss?’”

“...Wasn’t her old form better?”

“Huh?”

All heads turned toward the raid member who had spoken, freezing him in place. Under the sudden pressure, he scratched his head awkwardly.

“She was... cooler, you know? She had that untouchable, absolute power vibe. I thought it was unique. Kinda disappointing.”

“Guess even Demonins thought the old version was over the top.”

Sure, high difficulty needed to stay within reasonable bounds.

“Honestly, as much as blocking and dodging seems more realistic, it didn’t make sense for her to just stand there like a punching bag before. Not even infamous bosses like the Darkness Spirit or the Royal Ring bosses behaved like that.”

“If they intentionally made her unbeatable...”

“Well, if that’s the case, then I guess it makes sense.”

In games, when developers wanted to make a narrative or world-building point, they often did so through overwhelmingly strong enemies instead of directly spelling it out. Events where players were destined to lose—known as “defeat events”—were a common method.

Faced with such adversaries, players would often rant, “This is broken. How are we supposed to beat this?”

But not everyone thinks that way.

They all understood, even if it wasn’t said aloud: at the end of the day, it was all designed to give players that ultimate rush.

"But Canary isn't the type of NPC meant for that kind of role, is she?"

It was hard to see Canary as an NPC created for dramatic storytelling purposes. If that were the case, shouldn’t she have been more stationary or imposing? Instead, she mercilessly cut down anyone who made eye contact with her. That didn’t align with the usual approach for such characters.

At least, that’s what Fine thought.

Hmm...Grg?Isn’t this just a matter of preference? Who says she has to be imposing?“That’s true. I’m not trying to convince anyone otherwise. All I wanted to point out was that she’s different now. We all agree on that, right?”

“Yes.”

“There’s no soul in her attacks now.”

“So what are you going to do about it?”

“...”

Fine fell silent at someone’s question. If he had just wanted to note the differences, there would have been no reason to gather the raid team for a serious discussion.

Over time, working closely with the same group, you begin to intuit certain things—what someone is thinking, how they’re feeling, whether they’re in good condition or not.

If Fine could understand his team, then it stood to reason that they could understand him as well.

“Do you want to raid?” Fine asked.

“I’m not sure yet.”

Fine, whose thoughts had been laid bare, admitted honestly, “That’s why I gathered everyone. I wanted to hear your opinions.”

There were plenty of reasons to try again: pride, curiosity, revenge. Yet something held him back from making the decision.

Is it fear of overwhelming power?

No, that wasn’t it. While the memory of being effortlessly cut down was still vivid, the transformed Canary lacked the same overwhelming presence she once had.

It was more likely guilt. Or perhaps he was concerned about public opinion.

After setting the topic in motion, Fine paused, giving his teammates time to gather their thoughts. It might seem like he was shifting responsibility, but this was how he had always run the raid group—listening to everyone’s input before making the final decision himself.

“Fine, I’ve got a question,” Lemonie spoke up, tapping her foot as she waited for the others to decide.

“Yes?”

“What’s Journey doing right now? I doubt he’s just sitting still...”

“Oh.”

If you’re curious, why not check the stream yourself? Fine thought but still answered based on what he knew.

“Journey is—”

“...You’re asking me to help with a raid?”

“Technically, I’m asking you to help subdue her, but yes. You enjoy fighting strong opponents, so I thought you’d be interested...”

“I’ll pass.”

“...What?”

Daeun blinked in shock at the immediate refusal, the words barely out of her mouth before they were shot down.

“Do you think I’m some kind of maniac who charges into any fight she sees?”

“...You’re not? Oh, uh, sorry.”

Daeun, who had blurted the words unfiltered, realized her mistake the moment Yuki’s sharp gaze pinned her down.

“Um, well... even if you’re not a maniac, you do like fighting, don’t you?” Daeun hedged.

“Yes.”

“Then—”

“Then.”

Thud!

Yuki slammed her greatsword into the ground, dust kicking up and dirtying the hem of her pants. She leaned against the weapon, completely unfazed by the mess.

“That’s why I’m saying no.”

Talking to Yuki was never easy, but today was particularly difficult. Daeun resisted the urge to clutch her chest in frustration.

High levels and skill didn’t always go hand in hand. But Yuki was both the highest-leveled and most skilled person Daeun knew. Even if her teamwork left something to be desired, her raw talent made her invaluable, which was why Daeun had sought her out. Yet here she was, being denied without a proper reason.

As if sensing her frustration, Yuki began to idly toy with the hilt of her greatsword before speaking again.

“I already went to see her.”

“Her? Wait... don’t tell me...”

“Yes. My master.”

“Your... master?”

The term had changed again. It felt jarring, and Daeun grimaced at the incongruity, but Yuki didn’t seem to notice or care.

“I went to her and crossed swords with her...”

Yuki placed a hand over her chest.

“...but my heart didn’t race.”

“...?”

“I don’t want to fight if my heart doesn’t race.”

What was that even supposed to mean?

Daeun’s mind faltered, once again grinding to a halt at Yuki’s incomprehensible logic.