Sun-streaked dust still clung to their boots when the Strongest Guild pushed through the brass-framed doors of Radiance’s Guild Hall. Brughor had already been hauled off by city watch. Now only paperwork, and promised coin, stood between the six adventurers and a well-earned feast. On the marble check-in counter sat two objects: a linen pouch that jingled when the clerk nudged it forward, and the iron-banded chest Ryuji had lugged all the way from Dungeon Valley. “Contract bounty,” the clerk announced, sliding the pouch toward Shunjiro. “One hundred dragon coins, courtesy of the municipal defense budget.” Shunjiro weighed the purse in his palm, eyebrows lifting. Exactly what the contract poster promised. But the chest was heavier still, packed with dragon coins they had rescued from Brughor’s vault. Yoshinori cleared his throat. “About the chest, normally loot is tithed, yes?” The Guildmaster himself leaned out from a side doorway, eyes twinkling. “Normally. But the Dungeon Registry lists that forge hall as ‘unclaimed salvage.’ What you pried out belongs to whoever lived to haul it out. So…” He gave a theatrical little bow. “Double pay day. Don’t spend it all in one place.” Ryuji whooped. Tetsuo’s grinned. Aiko mouthed the words double pay and immediately swung the chest off the counter. “I know exactly what to spend it on.” The clerk lifted a cautionary finger. “Paperwork first. Treasure valuation forms, incident report, leader capture statement.” A collective groan filled the hall, half annoyance, half relief that the fight was truly over. Thirty signatures later, the Strongest Guild stepped back into afternoon sunlight with bulging coin bags, rumbling stomachs, and one single unanimous priority. They wound through the market quarter until a slate-roofed tavern called The Lucky Lantern spilled roast-meat smoke and fiddle music onto the street. The signboard featured an ale mug wreathed in bolts of lightning, prophetic, Yoshinori quipped, considering their current state of static-singed clothing. Inside, adventurers from every badge color toasted, boasted, and occasionally arm-wrestled for free pitchers. Aiko marched straight to the bar. “Three stone-mugs of Fire-Berry Ale, two ciders, and whatever sweet thing she likes,” she told the barkeep, hooking a thumb at Itsuki. “I’m pre-spending my cut.” Itsuki blinked. “Oh, mulberry fizz, please.” Shunjiro found them a long table. While Tetsuo and Ryuji counted coins into neat piles, Aiko returned, balancing a tray of foaming drinks. She slid one ale to Shunjiro, one to Ryuji, kept a third for herself, and patted the last two ciders toward Tetsuo and Yoshinori. “You drink?” Shunjiro asked, half-teasing. “Love to drink,” Aiko corrected, downing half a mug in a single pull. “Clear head for swapping, full heart from barley.” Tetsuo stared. “That’s… inspiring.” Then he tried to match her chug for chug, and failed, sputtering foam while Aiko laughed so hard she nearly swapped places with the bench itself. Plates of herbed chicken and spiced potatoes arrived. Between mouthfuls, they re-lived best moments. “The berserker’s halberd almost took my head off,” Shunjiro said, twirling fingers through black strands as proof. “You were showboating,” Yoshinori remarked, cutting chicken with surgical precision. “We need to tighten formation next time a brute fields reach advantage.” “Still cracked his helmet, didn’t I?” Shunjiro countered, flashing bruised knuckles. Itsuki shook her head fondly, re-bandaging Shunjiro’s hand even while chewing bread. Tetsuo recounted how he used a broken anvil as a bowling ball in the forge hall. Ryuji claimed half the credit, insisting he set them up like pins. Aiko insisted the real victory was her five-swap combo that left three captains bludgeoning each other. The clamor around their table rose with each brag until nearby patrons leaned over to listen. During a lull, Shunjiro’s ear caught a quieter conversation at the next table, a trio of S-rank adventurers mulling over route logistics. “-shadow crossway opens in two weeks…,” one said. “Need a navigator who’s survived the realm before,” another answered. Shunjiro’s curiosity ignited. He scooted his chair, prompting raised brows from his own guild. “Back in a sec.” They greeted him cautiously. He flashed his friendliest grin. “Sorry to intrude. I overheard you mention the Shadow Realm. Mind if I ask questions?” “Only fools ask about the Shadow Realm,” the eldest, a flint-eyed woman, murmured. “Wisest keep silent and stay home.” Shunjiro laughed. “Well, our guild has a talent for foolish courage. What is it exactly?” The youngest sighed. “A boundary dimension you cross to reach other continents. A domain where light bends wrong, distance lies, and corrupted spirits hunt fear itself.” “Sounds like my kind of puzzle,” Shunjiro said, half joking. The elder lifted her tankard. “Puzzle pieces devour the players. Bring at least four S-ranks, cognitive anchors, anti-corruption charms-“”-and someone who can read shadow-currents,” added the third. “Those currents shift like rivers.” He tapped the table. “Lose them and you wander until your mind folds inside out.” Shunjiro thanked the adventurers and slipped back to his table, brow furrowed. Itsuki caught the look. “Dangerous topic?” “Shadow Realm,” he said, lowering himself onto the bench. “Travelers insist it’s the only land-bridge to other continents.” Aiko’s ale hovered halfway to her lips. “Shadow Realm? Hard pass.” Tetsuo’s eyes lit up. “The treasure rumors are insane.” Yoshinori set down his untouched cider and laced his fingers. “Rumors, yes, but the peril is documented.” His tone shifted into lecture mode. “When I was twelve, Father and I researched every expedition journal we could find. What they describe is a continent-sized basin where the sun never breaks the clouds and it rains almost nonstop. No crops grow, just rotted husks of trees and black mud.” Ryuji frowned. “No sun at all?” “None,” Yoshinori confirmed. “The sky is a permanent iron lid. Worse, the terrain rearranges itself: valleys sink, ridges slide sideways; any map you draw is useless by the next storm.” He raised three fingers. “But every account agrees on a few constants. First: there are exactly ten way-stations, people call them Shadow Inns, scattered across the Realm. They’re pockets of dry ground, faint lamplight, and thin, breathable air. Miss the next inn and you risk wandering until exposure or madness takes you. “Second: corruption permeates everything. In that rain, even a scratch festers into spirit-rot. Former travelers, already warped, prowl the roads and lure newcomers off course.” Itsuki hugged her elbows. “Like Makoto, but a whole wilderness of them.” “Exactly,” Yoshinori said, nodding gravely. “Third: nothing living grows there. No fresh water but the tainted rain, no game to hunt, just stumps and sludge. Supplies must last the entire crossing.” Aiko topped off her mug, shaking her head. “So the shopping list is rations for weeks, anti-corruption talismans, and at least four S-ranks to swing the swords. I’m going to need triple pay and a lifetime ale tab.” Shunjiro’s eyes sparkled. “Think of the stories. And other continents! Who knows, maybe Takeshi crossed.” The table fell quiet. Itsuki placed a gentle hand on his forearm; she too carried a missing sibling’s weight. “Then we’ll get strong enough to follow… safely.” Yoshinori nodded. “Shadow Realm isn’t tomorrow’s job, but planning can start now. Research charms, train resistance, climb rank. One step at a time.” Tetsuo raised his cider. “To future steps, and to payday!” They clinked mugs. Aiko drained hers in a single gulp, slapped it down, and shouted for a stronger bottle of mountain whiskey. The barkeep raised eyebrows but obliged, impressed by the slim woman’s capacity. “Lightweight,” Aiko teased Ryuji when he declined a second round. He grumbled something about muscles needing water, not poison. By dusk, empty plates and a diminishing whiskey bottle covered the table. They divided the official hundred coins evenly, then stared at the much larger chest. “One sixth each?” Ryuji suggested. Yoshinori shook his head. “No. We pool fifty coins for guild supplies, scrolls, charms, armor repairs. The rest we split.” Even Aiko, buzzed but lucid, agreed. “If the Shadow Realm is future, we need gear, not just booze.” Tetsuo groaned but didn’t argue. Plans made, they signed Yoshinori’s ledger, proof of shared funds. Aiko pocketed her reduced share, winked, and promptly bought another round anyway. When they finally spilled onto moonlit cobbles, laughter trailed behind them. Brughor’s bruises throbbed; exhaustion weighted limbs, but hearts felt lighter than any bag of coin. At the corner, Shunjiro paused, gazing toward dark western skies. “One day,” he murmured. “We’ll stand at the Shadow Realm’s gate, ready.” Itsuki stepped beside him. “Together,” she said quietly. Yoshinori smiled. “And prepared.” Tetsuo cracked his neck. “And stacked with treasure.” Aiko raised the whiskey bottle she’d smuggled out. “And with better liquor!” Ryuji chuckled. “And maybe, just maybe, with a plan that isn’t suicide.” The Strongest Guild turned toward their dormitory, night air cool on flushed cheeks, pockets heavy, and dreams heavier still, dreams of shadowed roads, distant continents, and the unbreakable bond that would carry them all the way there.