The raid had been exhausting.
Seven hours clearing a C-rank dungeon, fighting through waves of crystalline golems that hit like freight trains and shattered into razor-sharp shrapnel when destroyed. Astrid's arms ached from maintaining her barrier spells, her mana reserves were scraped to nearly nothing, and she had a splitting headache from the constant mental strain of coordinating defensive positions for a team that kept making stupid tactical decisions.
But they'd cleared it.
Fifty thousand credits split eight ways. Her share: 6,250 credits.
Not bad for a day's work, even if her entire body felt like one giant bruise.
Astrid trudged up the stairs to her apartment in C-District—nice enough area, safe enough neighborhood, the kind of place B-rank awakened could afford if they were smart with money.
Or if they were supporting a deadbeat boyfriend who contributed absolutely nothing to rent.
She pushed that thought away.
