The sea monster hammered inland, each ponderous stride carving tidal channels through the waterfront streets. Storm‑born waves smashed fishing shacks to matchwood, lifted market stalls, and hurled them like driftwood into burning storehouses. Lantern poles snapped; flame met overturned barrels of lamp‑oil, and ribbons of fire licked skyward, casting the night in a trembling orange glow. Panicked villagers sprinted in every direction, some hauling children, others clutching ledgers or heirlooms, while the creature’s roar rolled over the city like distant thunder. The Strongest guild limped clear of the main boulevard, hearts hammering. They crouched behind a toppled marble fish‑statue on the promenade, breathing in smoke‑tainted air. Aiko collapsed first, spine against the crumbling base. Sweat and seawater soaked her tunic; every swallow tasted of salt and fear. Ryuji sagged onto a boulder, one arm hugging cracked ribs. “Damn it,” he muttered, voice gravelly with pain. “That thing’s a freaking monster. What the hell are we even supposed to do?” Yoshinori stood rigid, shoulders trembling with contained frustration. Faint lightning still danced around clenched fists. “We’re not ready for this,” he admitted, bitterness roughening each word. Itsuki knelt beside Shunjiro, who had only just regained consciousness after Aiko’s desperate swap. She finished a weak healing spell; the glow flickered out like a candle starved of air. Exhaustion painted violet shadows beneath her eyes. Flames crackled somewhere to the east; distant screams pierced falling embers. Shunjiro forced himself up to a knee and froze. A strange, low hum pulsed through the ground, growing louder, steadier, as if a giant drum beat beneath the cobblestones. “What’s that?” he murmured. The others turned. Beyond the shattered archway that framed the coastal highway, a broad dust‑cloud rolled across the moonlit dunes, hoofbeats? No, too synchronized… footfalls. Silhouettes resolved: half‑a‑dozen figures advancing at a pace somewhere between a sprint and a march, their cloaks snapping in the salty wind. Moonlight flashed on steel pauldrons stamped with a crest shaped like concentric rings, the mark all guild kids knew from posters and story scrolls. Aiko’s weary eyes widened, a tiny spark of hope reigniting. “Backup?” she whispered. Yoshinori peered, recognition blooming. “It’s them,” he breathed, awe and relief tangling in his voice. “The Titans.” The name alone carried weight. An S‑rank guild, the only S‑rank team assigned to the western seaboard. The dust hissed away, revealing six distinct warriors striding abreast like the spear‑tip of fate. At their center marched Hikari, a stocky dwarf no taller than Yoshinori’s chest. She hefted a hammer larger than herself as easily as a mason swings a mallet. Reaching the ruined plaza, she planted boot‑heels and threw her head back. “Don’t worry, folks!” she boomed, voice cutting through fire and surf like a victory bell. “The Titans are here now!” The confidence in that single shout felt like a barrier spell over frightened hearts; cries along the street quieted as civilians dared to hope. Flanking her left strode Hiroki, a lion‑mane beast‑kin nearly eight feet tall. Broad shoulders flexed beneath scale armor the color of sunset embers. Despite the inferno around him, a shy flush colored his golden cheeks. “Um, hi,” he rumbled, eyes lowering like a bashful cub. “We’ll take care of this.” To Hikari’s right moved Rei, statuesque and steel‑eyed. Air shimmered around her palms as shattered carts, chimney stones, and fractured roof‑tiles levitated, orbiting like moons ready for launch. “We need to establish a perimeter and assess the creature’s movements,” she declared, her clipped cadence that of a commander who expected instant obedience. A step behind, serene Aira drifted over puddles, azure magic dancing between her fingers. Already she diverted a wave of healing water to a limping dockworker, whispering reassurance. On the perimeter, Akima walked with head slightly tilted, eyes half‑lidded in concentration; a ripple of empathic aura brushed every terrified mind she passed. Last came Daichi, tall and lean, perpetual scowl deepening as he surveyed the wreckage. “Why does it always have to be a giant monster?” he grumbled. Wind eddied about his cloak, echoing his irritability. Shunjiro’s jaw dropped at the casual synergy radiating from them. He leaned toward Aiko. “Looks like we just got upstaged by the big leagues,” he whispered, nudging her shoulder. Aiko forced a breathy laugh. “At least we’re in good hands now. Maybe Daichi can blow the monster back into the ocean with a gust of his bad mood.” The Titans wasted zero heartbeats. Rei’s voice snapped orders: “Hiroki, Hikari, frontline. Anchor its attention. Aira, full triage behind the fish market. Akima, feed me its intent every three seconds. Daichi, sky harass.” Hikari twirled her hammer until it blurred, then shot forward like a cannonball, dwarf legs a blur. Hiroki exhaled, flames licking from his mane; with a shy nod he bounded after her, each step carving craters. Rei vaulted upward on a column of debris she lifted beneath her feet, Daichi riding a spiral of wind beside her, palm outstretched launching slicing gusts. The Strongest guild, still kneeling in sand and soot, watched the choreography unfold with open‑mouthed awe. A tidal surge barreled in. Hiroki met it with a roar, exhaling a sheet of fire that flashed steam, buying seconds. Hikari leapt onto the monster’s forelimb and slammed her hammer; the strike reverberated like church bells. Scales cracked, salt spray and ichor spraying outward. Rei’s telekinetic barrage followed, chimney bricks, wagon axles, shattered marble, every projectile guided to soft joints. Overhead, Daichi whipped air blades that whistled past gaps in plates, drawing streaks of blood. Akima’s calm voice rang through the guildstones clipped to each Titan’s collar. “It fears flame. Its next swipe is left.” Their formation adjusted before the monster even growled. Aira’s healings waves swept through fleeing townsfolk, sealing gashes, numbing terror. She directed a boy’s wide eyes toward safety while conjuring a shell of water that deflected falling rubble. Watching, Ryuji managed a pained whistle. “She’s… incredible,” he muttered. Shunjiro’s fists clenched unconsciously. Every hammer‑blow, every fire‑burst carved conviction into his heart. “We have a lot to learn if we’re going to reach their level,” he said quietly. “This is what we’re striving for,” Yoshinori agreed, lightning still flickering faintly in damp curls. “We need to get stronger. All of us.” Aiko exhaled, exhaustion slumping her shoulders yet leaving a spark in tired eyes. “And maybe… one day… we’ll be the ones they call for help.” Shunjiro glanced at his own trembling hands, then back to the incandescent battlefield where titans clashed by torchlight and moonshine. One day, he vowed, as Hikari’s hammer struck home again in an explosion of sparks, we’ll stand with them. We’ll become legends, too. And beneath that silent oath, distant thunder rolled, not from the storm, but from the footfalls of heroes carving a path the young guild now knew they must follow.