Today's gate is an E-rank. It showed up two days ago in a city park, a neat, well-kept green space in the middle of downtown, complete with jogging paths, benches, and a dog park. Unfortunately, that last part is where things went sideways.
A couple walking their dog reported the incident. According to them, a goblin snatched their beloved pet right off its leash and sprinted into a small wooded area. Moments later, it vanished into thin air, dragging the terrified animal with it. When they approached, they found the swirling green mist of a gate pulsing faintly between two old oak trees.
The Association investigated quickly. They ran the standard tests, cleared the area, and logged the gate as E-rank. Since it was relatively low-risk, it was classified as a public gate, meaning any registered runner can enter, first come, first served.
That's usually how things go for anything C-rank and below. The bigger, more dangerous gates, B and above, are auctioned off to the large guilds. With high-level threats come high-level profits, and those kinds of stakes attract attention and competition. But for people like me, the smaller gates are where we make our living. Quiet, steady work.
I'm sitting on a worn park bench near the edge of the cordoned-off area, sipping coffee from my thermos while I wait. It's a chilly morning, just before sunrise. The mist still clings to the grass, and the streetlights cast long shadows across the trail. The gate run is scheduled to begin at 6:00 a.m., and it's nearly time.
I spot them before they reach me, a trio of women walking with purpose, geared up and ready to move.
The one leading the group is clearly the tank. Her dark, spiked armor gives off a subtle hum of magic reinforcement. She's carrying a massive tower shield strapped to one arm and a spiked mace in the other hand. Her blonde hair is pulled into a tight braid, and though her gear hides most of her body, her posture exudes confidence and strength.
To her left walks a mage. She's easy to identify, mages always are. This one's an elf with flowing silver hair, long pointed ears, and a tall staff topped with a glowing orb. She's dressed in elegant white and blue robes that shimmer faintly with enchantments.
Elves and other demihumans like her have been part of our world since the gates first started appearing. Some came through willingly from civilizations hiding inside the gates themselves, refugees from worlds lost to the chaos beyond.
The third member is the assassin. She's wrapped in dark leather armor, her face half-covered by a sleek black mask. A hood shrouds the rest of her features, leaving only a pair of sharp, watchful eyes visible. Even her steps are quiet, barely stirring the gravel on the path.
They stop in front of me, and the blonde tank steps forward.
"Hi. Are you Xavier, the porter?"
I stand and offer a polite nod. "That's me. Good to meet you."
"I'm Miria," she says. "I lead this team. Our mage is Sylvia, and our scout's name is Lexi."
Sylvia offers a shy smile and a quick nod. I notice her hands are trembling ever so slightly, her staff shaking despite her effort to steady it. Lexi says nothing, but nods silently, her eyes never leaving her surroundings.
"We can go in whenever you're ready," Miria says. "As discussed, you're strictly support today. Just carry and observe unless you absolutely need to defend yourself."
"Understood," I reply. "I'm ready when you are. Shall we enter before another group shows up?"
We make our way to the gate, a shimmering green oval nestled between the trees. It flickers like a heat haze, flat as a sheet of glass. One by one, we step through.
Passing through a gate is an odd sensation. It's like walking through static. The world twists around you for half a heartbeat, then you're somewhere else entirely.
This one leads to a cave system, standard for E-rank goblin-type gates. The ground is solid stone, uneven in places, with glowing blue and violet crystals embedded in the walls. The air is damp and still, echoing softly with the distant drip of water.
We move cautiously down the tunnel. After fifteen quiet minutes, I spot a pair of mana crystals lodged in the stone.
Mana crystals are different from the normal light-emitting crystals that you find in some dungeons, as gate-runners can feel the mana radiating from them.
I use a small pickaxe from my belt to pry them loose, then store them in my item box with a flick of my hand.
"I'll keep track of everything I store," I say, holding up my small notebook. "If there's ever a dispute, I can use my [Item Box: Empty] skill to prove I'm not holding anything back."
Miria glances over her shoulder and smiles. "No need to worry. Your name came up a lot when we asked around. There aren't many male porters, and yours is the one people recommend. We're glad to have you."
"Good to hear. It's always better working with professionals."
Before I can say more, Lexi raises a finger to her lips, signaling for silence. Her other hand points toward a side tunnel.
"Goblins. Five," she whispers.
We stop moving. Lexi presses herself to the stone wall and disappears into the shadows like mist in moonlight. The rest of us hunker down.
Sylvia trembles again, visibly shaken. Miria leans in and whispers something I can't hear, but it seems to steady her. Still, I get the sense this isn't just nerves. Sylvia looks terrified. Like she's seen this go badly before.
A moment later, we hear them. Soft, raspy voices. Uneven footsteps. Then a high-pitched voice echoes down the tunnel, shrill and mocking:
"Gobbo smells man-flesh! Food and breeding things for us!"
I feel a chill crawl up my spine.
Miria's face hardens. She grips her mace and raises her shield. Sylvia grips her staff with white knuckles. Lexi is already gone, probably flanking them from the darkness.
I shift myself and position myself against the wall, out of the way, but close enough to jump in if things go south.
E-rank goblins shouldn't be a challenge for a competent team, but anyone who's been in enough gates knows that underestimating monsters, even low-rank ones, is how you get people killed.