The moment the blinding light of the teleportation subsided, five figures collapsed onto the cracked stone of the starter town square, coughing and groaning like dying frogs.

  "Ughhh… my spleen…" RedFlag wheezed, rolling onto his side.

  "We have spleens in this world?" WaifuWarlock asked, blinking rapidly.

  Before anyone could answer, a pair of loud DING! sounds echoed in the air.

  > [DING! Level 20 Reached!]

  [Achievement Unlocked: Intermediate Adventurer (How??)]

  Kazap and Wiki exchanged a slow, mutual glance.

  "…What," said Spreadsheet flatly.

  "WHAT?!" screamed RedFlag and WaifuWarlock in unison, scrambling to their feet.

  Kazap scratched the back of his head, sheepish.

  "Uh… assist XP?"

  "Assist XP?!" RedFlag repeated. "From what?!"

  Wiki pulled up his logs casually. "Technically, we tagged the mobs when we gave that motivational speech about overthrowing their chains of oppression. So when the mobs started beating the crap out of everyone… assist XP."

  Kazap shrugged. "We supported the revolution. The revolution supported us."

  Spreadsheet looked like he wanted to scream.

  "You mean… you got free XP… for starting an uprising?!"

  "Hey," Kazap said, holding up a finger. "Freedom isn't free. But apparently, XP is."

  Wiki solemnly nodded. "We are men of the people or more like mobs."

  Behind them, a nearby house collapsed in slow motion.

  The town was—how to put it nicely—absolutely wrecked.

  Buildings were scorched and sagging under their own weight. Shops were boarded up with hasty planks. Angry red graffiti coated the walls, slogans like "EAT THE CHOSEN ONE" and "MOB RIGHTS NOW" screaming in blocky letters.

  Even worse, the NPCs themselves were different. Their eyes—once a warm, programmed brown—were now a cold, soulless black. A blacksmith casually hammered a pitchfork while glaring at them. A group of children, dead-eyed, were throwing rocks at a burnt-out tavern.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Wiki adjusted his glasses (purely cosmetic) and muttered, "Statistically speaking… the revolution went too well."

  "No shit, Sherlock," Spreadsheet growled.

  Kazap whistled low. "Damn. We really left our mark, huh?"

  The first tomato struck RedFlag squarely in the face with a wet splat.

  "GAAH! MY EGO!"

  Another rotten fruit followed, then another. Soon, a mob had formed—farmers with pitchforks, blacksmiths swinging hammers, even elderly grannies brandishing rolling pins with terrifying proficiency.

  WaifuWarlock raised his hands in a panic. "H-Hold on! We can explain—!"

  "It was just a little trolling!" Kazap yelled, dodging a moldy cabbage.

  The crowd was not impressed.

  A familiar figure stepped forward: the former guild clerk, now wearing tattered remnants of her once-pristine uniform. She looked like she hadn't slept in days. In her hands was a massive stack of papers, which she dropped at their feet with a heavy thud.

  "We held a vote," she said coldly. "Ninety-eight percent of the town signed this."

  Kazap leaned forward, squinting at the top sheet.

  > Official Petition for the Immediate Deportation of the Five Dumbasses (We Will Move the Town if We Have To).

  Kazap clutched his chest in mock agony. "They called us dumbasses… officially."

  "That's bureaucracy, baby," Wiki said, pushing up his glasses with a smirk.

  "I thought this was an RPG," WaifuWarlock whimpered. "Why does it feel like tax season?!"

  The guild clerk-turned-mayor took a deep, weary breath.

  "You don’t seem to grasp the magnitude of what you've done," she said. "So allow me to spell it out."

  The crowd fell unnaturally silent, listening as she began to pace like a teacher about to hand out collective F's.

  "Because of your… stunt," she continued, her voice dripping venom, "the mobs unionized. They demanded better loot tables, healthcare benefits, and weekends off."

  Kazap and Wiki exchanged a slow, horrified look—then fistbumped without a word.

  "We made history," Wiki whispered reverently.

  "And that's not all," the mayor snapped. "The real levels of every mob turned out to be ten times higher than displayed. Because you broke the fucking scaling system."

  Spreadsheet raised a hand nervously. "Technically, Kazap’s speech flagged them as hostile… so it’s not entirely our fault—"

  "DO I LOOK LIKE I CARE ABOUT MECHANICS?!" she roared.

  Spreadsheet shut up immediately.

  The mayor jabbed a finger at them, nearly trembling with fury.

  "And do you know what happened after that? When the mobs started rampaging?"

  The group leaned in, sensing a punchline approaching.

  The mayor seethed, "Newly arrived adventurers and 'Chosen Ones' tried to fight them off. They charged in like the heroes they thought they were."

  She paused dramatically. Her eye twitched.

  "THEY GOT ABSOLUTELY FARMED."

  The memory seemed to physically hurt her.

  "Level 5 Chosen Ones fighting sewer rats that secretly had a combat rating of 50. We lost two whole tutorial groups in five minutes!"

  Kazap slapped a hand over his mouth, trying not to cackle.

  WaifuWarlock wasn’t so lucky. He wheezed, "OH MY GOD, THE RATS SPAWN-CAMPED THEM?"

  The mayor nodded grimly. "The rats now own three city blocks. They're building condominiums."

  RedFlag let out a strangled noise. "Condo-rats."

  Wiki scribbled something in his notes. "Adding 'Property Mogul Rodents' to the wiki page."

  The mayor's patience finally snapped.

  "YOU BROKE THE ECONOMY, THE ECOSYSTEM, AND THE ENTRY-LEVEL HERO TRAINING PROGRAM!"

  Kazap turned to the group and whispered, "Man, imagine getting clapped by a real estate tycoon rat."

  "Bro, that’s literally your fault," RedFlag muttered.

  "Still based," Kazap replied.

  At last, the mayor threw her arms wide in an angry flourish.

  "You have five minutes to leave. We have prepared transportation. We insist you fuckers leave ASAP."

  At the edge of the square, a stable boy led over five mounts: four tired, unimpressive horses and… a donkey wearing a cheap blonde wig.

  WaifuWarlock gawked. "Is that… a donkey in cosplay?"

  The stable boy shrugged. "It's the best we could do after you destroyed half the livestock industry."

  RedFlag marched up, arms crossed. "I demand a trial by combat! 1v1 me for the right to stay!"

  The mayor didn’t even blink. "We’ll dogpile your unhinged ass but then you will respawn here again which we do not fucking want. So LEAVE!"

  WaifuWarlock held up a hopeful hand. "Maybe… maybe we could just stay one night? The donkey looks so tired—"

  "NO," the town shouted in unison.

  Kazap glanced at the map the stable boy shoved into his hands. It was hastily scribbled, with the words "Safest Route" printed at the top in shaky handwriting.

  Beneath that, in even shakier handwriting: (P.S. We paid the bandits to ignore you. You’re not worth the effort.)

  Kazap sighed. "Well. Democracy has spoken."

  The five hung their heads in theatrical shame as they mounted up—then, when no one was looking, secretly exchanged a round of daps behind their backs.

  "…Totally worth it," Kazap whispered.

  "Peak revolution," Wiki agreed.

  As the gates slammed shut behind them and the sound of cheering NPCs filled the air, Spreadsheet rubbed his temples.

  "…We are so going to die in the next zone."

  Kazap grinned. "That's future us' problem."

  Next Chapter: Say No to Safest Route

  Hey gremlins, time to patch up some lore holes you didn’t ask about but I’m dumping here anyway:

  1. HOW THE GUILD CLERK BECAME MAYOR

  2. THE CHOSEN ONE WHO FUCKED AROUND & FOUND OUT

  3. Update on Guide-Chans