Five hours had finally passed, and Ren had managed to collect a decent haul.

  A bunch of horned rabbit horns, a small pile of herbs, and—miraculously—seven thistle roses.

  Not quite enough for the secret quest, but close.

  Ren checked the time and sighed.

  Reed’s six-hour session was almost up.

  “Looks like your time’s about to run out,” Ren said, glancing over at him.

  “Yeah,” Reed said, stretching his arms tiredly. “Should we head back to town?”

  They agreed and started trekking back toward Greenwild Cross, moving quickly through the now-familiar fields.

  Once they reached the town, Ren led Reed to the hunter mentor—a grizzled old NPC standing near the main training grounds.

  The mentor’s quest was a simple one: collect Horned Rabbit Horns and turn them in for a small reward.

  Ten rabbit horns earned ten XP and a slight bump in favorability with the Hunter’s Guild.

  Nothing fancy.

  Just another background side mission that most players knocked out without thinking.

  Still, it was better to hand them in than to waste inventory space. And better rewardwise than just selling the horns.

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  Ren planned to exploit all the guys professional classes, so they’d make the most of things. But that was at level 10. So, it was no big deal to just get EXP now.

  Because, unless you were a blacksmith who could process rabbit horns into beginner-level daggers, they weren’t worth much.

  And Ren wasn’t expecting anyone from his soon-to-be slum guild to use blacksmithing any time soon.

  Hell, they couldn’t even afford to repair their weapons yet, much less start crafting new ones.

  “Alright,” Ren said, stretching as the quest completed. “Time for a quick break in real life.”

  “Yeah, I gotta get ready for my laundromat shift anyway,” Reed said, yawning.

  They logged out—and immediately reappeared in the dingy dormitory, blinking under the harsh fluorescent lights.

  And what they saw surprised them.

  Two of the other dorm guys were standing near the cracked communal table, shouting at each other.

  Folo and Kanuka.

  Apparently, they knew the six-hour timer for VR helmet usage had just ended, and tensions were already boiling over.

  Technically, Folo was supposed to be next in line.

  They had a whole timetable sketched out on a piece of battered cardboard hanging by the beds.

  Only Ren was exempt from the rules, he was allowed 18 hours a day—he was the organizer behind the whole plan, after all.

  But even the best schedule in the world didn’t mean shit in the slums.

  Shift changes in real life didn’t happen neatly.

  Bosses called you in early, or cut your hours, or dumped you on the curb halfway through the day if business was slow.

  And today?

  Kanuka had just gotten sent home early from his barbecue shop job.

  Which meant he was technically free—and he wanted to grab a helmet shift before the next random work wave hit.

  Folo wasn’t having it.

  “It’s my fuckin’ turn!” Folo was shouting, his face red.

  “You’re not even working today!” Kanuka yelled back. “I need to log time before I get dragged back into another twelve-hour shift!”

  “I don’t care, Kanuka! We agreed! Six hours each!”

  Ren sighed, leaning back against the wall and rubbing his temples.

  The project hadn’t even fully launched yet and people were already losing their minds over helmet time.

  And he knew—

  if they didn’t figure out a better system soon?

  This slum guild of his was going to tear itself apart before it even had a chance to get off the ground.

  ***