Three weeks had passed since Itsuki Nozomi opened her eyes.
Radiance had long since returned to its rhythm. The markets were alive again, the guild hall loud with voices and clashing mugs, adventurers coming and going with stories of success, failure, and everything in between. To anyone watching from the outside, nothing had changed.
But for Illumina everything had.
They had taken time.
Not out of weakness.
But necessity.
The Shadow Elf Dungeon had pushed them beyond their limits, and what came after had demanded something slower. Something steadier. Training resumed, but carefully. Missions were discussed, but postponed. They rebuilt, not just strength, but balance.
And now they were ready to move again.
The six of them walked together toward the guild hall, their presence drawing quiet glances from those nearby. Not the curious looks given to rookies anymore but something more measured.
Recognition.
At the front was Shunjiro Tenzai.
His steps were confident now, grounded in a way they hadn’t been before. The restless energy that once defined him had sharpened into something more controlled. His eyes still carried that same fire, the drive to grow, to reach higher, but now it was steadied by experience. By failure. By fear he had already faced and survived.
Beside him walked Itsuki Nozomi.
Her long black hair moved gently with each step, her presence quieter than before, yet somehow more noticeable. There was a calmness to her now, a depth beneath her soft expression that hadn’t been there before the dungeon. Her blue eyes held warmth, but also clarity. Whatever had shifted within her during that week of sleep had settled into something… stronger.
Yoshinori Raikawa followed just behind, his gaze sweeping the area with quiet precision. Nothing escaped him. Not the way adventurers glanced at them. Not the subtle shifts in energy around the guild hall. His eyes moved constantly, sharp and calculating, taking in every detail without drawing attention to it.
To the side, Tetsuo Shinseki stretched his arms lazily behind his head as they walked, posture relaxed as always. But the ease in his movements hid something denser beneath the surface.
Aiko Hanabi walked with a light bounce in her step, her energy returning to its usual brightness, though it carried a sharper edge than before. Her eyes moved constantly, taking in everything with quick curiosity, but there was focus behind it now. Her flames once wild had grown more precise.
And at the back, Ryuji Sayo walked with a calm demeanor, hands tucked loosely into his pockets, gaze steady and unreadable.
A small group of girls near one of the tables noticed him almost immediately.
Their voices dropped to hushed whispers.
“Is that him?”
“That’s Ryuji, right?”
“He’s… kind of cute”
One of them let out a quiet laugh, nudging the other as their eyes lingered a little too long.
In the past, Ryuji would’ve noticed instantly.
He would’ve turned.
Smiled.
Said something corny without even thinking about it.
That was who he was.
But this time he didn’t even glance their way.
His focus stayed forward, attention grounded on the path ahead, on the team walking with him. The noise around him, whispers, attention, admiration, passed by without catching hold.
Together they were Illumina.
No longer just a group of promising rookies.
Something more defined.
Something that had been tested and endured.
The doors of the guild hall opened before them with a familiar creak.
Noise spilled out immediately.
Voices. Laughter. The scrape of chairs and the clatter of mugs against wood.
They stepped inside.
Illumina moved through the hall stopping in front of the quest board.
Sheets of parchment overlapped one another in uneven layers, requests pinned, torn, replaced, updated. Ink varied from rushed scribbles to clean, official script. Some jobs were simple: escort duties, supply runs, low-tier monster clearing. Others were marked with heavier ink, reinforced corners, and higher rewards, danger written between the lines.
No one reached out immediately.
They read.
Carefully.
Ryuji leaned in slightly, scanning a cluster of mid-tier requests. “These look normal again,” he muttered. “No more ‘we might die for no reason’ type stuff.”
Aiko tilted her head, eyes bouncing quickly from one posting to the next. “Normal doesn’t sound very fun.”
“That’s because you like things exploding,” Ryuji added calmly.
She grinned. “And you don’t?”
He didn’t answer, but the faintest smirk tugged at his expression.
Yoshinori stepped closer to the center of the board, eyes narrowing slightly as he scanned the structure rather than the jobs themselves.
“Notice the markings,” he said.
Shunjiro glanced over. “What about them?”
“The ink color. The stamps. The corner seals.” Yoshinori gestured subtly. “These aren’t just random postings. They’re categorized by guild priority and internal evaluation.”
Itsuki leaned in beside Shunjiro, following Yoshinori’s line of sight. “Evaluation… of us?”
“Of everyone,” Yoshinori corrected. “Every active squad is tracked. Performance, mission difficulty, completion efficiency, adaptability… it’s all recorded.”
Tetsuo raised a brow. “You’re saying we’ve got a score somewhere?”
“More than a score,” Yoshinori said. “A ledger.”
That word lingered.
Shunjiro’s eyes shifted back to the board, but he wasn’t really reading it anymore.
“A ledger…” he repeated quietly.
He imagined it for a moment, everything they’d done written down somewhere. The dungeon. The risks they took. The mistakes. The victories.
Sylleth.
A faint unease mixed with curiosity.
“What do you think ours looks like?” he asked.
Aiko perked up immediately. “Oh, I want to see that.”
Ryuji chuckled. “Probably says ‘don’t let these idiots near anything above their rank.’”
Tetsuo shrugged lightly. “Or ‘surprisingly still alive.’”
Itsuki smiled faintly at that, but her eyes drifted back to Shunjiro. She could see it, the curiosity wasn’t casual.
It mattered to him.
“You want to check, don’t you?” she asked softly.
He hesitated for half a second.
Then nodded.
“…Yeah.”
Yoshinori glanced toward the back offices of the guild hall. “Those records wouldn’t be public. You’d need permission.”
“From who?” Tetsuo asked.
“Whoever’s assigned to oversee us,” Yoshinori replied. “Most likely a guild officer.”
Aiko crossed her arms, thinking. “You think they’ll just let us see it?”
“Probably not,” Ryuji said.
Shunjiro exhaled lightly. “Still… I want to know.”
Itsuki stepped forward slightly, standing beside him rather than behind. “Then let’s ask.”
He glanced at her. “You sure?”
She nodded but there was a quiet determination behind it.
“If we’re going to move forward,” she said, “we should understand where we stand.”
That settled it.
Shunjiro straightened slightly, something more focused settling into his posture. “Alright,” he said. “Let’s go.”
Tetsuo waved a hand lazily. “We’ll hold the board down while you’re gone.”
Aiko grinned. “Try not to get kicked out.”
Ryuji added, “Or do. Could be interesting.”
Yoshinori gave a small nod. “Pay attention to how they respond. That’ll tell us more than the ledger itself.”
Shunjiro smirked faintly. “Got it.”
He turned.
Itsuki moved with him.
Together, they stepped away from the quest board, heading toward the quieter section of the guild hall where decisions were made, records were kept, and answers, if given at all, were rarely simple.
The decision didn’t take long.
Shunjiro and Itsuki approached the back of the guild hall, where the noise of the main floor softened into a quieter, more controlled atmosphere. Fewer people moved through this section, mostly officials, record keepers, and higher-ranking adventurers who had business beyond simple quest selection.
A man stood behind a long counter, sorting through a stack of documents. His posture was straight, his expression neutral, the kind of person who saw everything and reacted to very little.
Shunjiro stepped forward. “Excuse me.”
The man glanced up briefly. “State your business.”
Shunjiro hesitated for a fraction of a second, then spoke clearly. “We’re from Illumina. We wanted to request access to our guild ledger.”
The official’s eyes lingered on him for a moment, then shifted to Itsuki beside him.
“…Illumina,” he repeated, as if confirming something in his mind.
He set the papers down.
“Your rank?”
“C-rank,” Shunjiro answered.
Another pause.
Then, unexpectedly, the man nodded.
“Follow me.”
Shunjiro blinked once, slightly surprised at how easily that went, but didn’t question it. He and Itsuki exchanged a quick glance before stepping behind the counter.
They were led down a narrow hallway lined with doors and shelves, the air growing cooler and quieter the deeper they went. Eventually, the official stopped in front of a large wooden door and pushed it open.
Inside were rows upon rows of shelves filling the room.
Folders. Ledgers. Stacks of bound parchment organized with near-perfect precision. Some were thin, barely more than a few pages. Others were thick enough to require reinforced bindings, their spines worn from years of additions.
Shunjiro’s eyes widened slightly. “…All of this…?”
“Guild records,” the official replied simply. “Every registered group. Every mission. Every evaluation.”
Itsuki stepped in beside him, her gaze moving across the room, taking in the sheer scale of it.
It wasn’t just records.
It was history.
“Come,” the official said, already walking.
They followed him through the rows.
As they moved deeper, small labels appeared along the shelves.
D Rank.
Then further to C Rank.
But before they reached it, Shunjiro’s eyes caught something else.
Another section.
Marked clearly.
S Rank.
Next to it, SS Rank.
And further down, SSS Rank.
He slowed without realizing it.
The ledgers in those sections were…
Massive.
Thick, layered, reinforced with heavier bindings. Some looked less like folders and more like entire volumes. The weight of them alone made it clear, they held years, maybe decades, of experience.
Shunjiro stared for a moment longer than he meant to.
“…That’s insane,” he murmured under his breath.
Itsuki followed his gaze.
Her eyes softened slightly. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”
He let out a quiet breath, not denying it. “…What the top guild’s ledger looks like.”
His eyes stayed on the SSS section.
For a second, his imagination ran ahead of him.
A ledger so large it wouldn’t fit on a shelf.
Something bigger than the room itself.
Stacked with countless pages.
Endless missions.
Endless growth.
A record of something far beyond where they stood now.
He huffed quietly, shaking his head at himself. “…Probably ridiculous.”
Itsuki let out a small laugh beside him. “You’re already thinking that far ahead.”
He glanced at her.
A faint smile formed.
“…Yeah.”
She looked back at the shelves, then at him. “Then let’s make sure ours gets there one day.”
Something about the way she said it made it feel less like a dream and more like a promise.
The official cleared his throat lightly, drawing their attention back. “This way.”
They reached the C-rank section.
Compared to the others, the ledgers here were smaller. Thinner. Less worn. Still growing.
The official ran a finger along the spines before stopping.
“Illumina.”
He pulled the folder free and handed it to them.
Shunjiro took it carefully.
It wasn’t heavy.
But it felt important.
They stepped aside, moving to a nearby table.
For a second, he just held it.
Then slowly opened it.
Pages.
Ten of them.
That was all.
But every page mattered.
Every mission they had taken.
Every quest completed.
Every detail from Dungeon Valley.
Even the Shadow Elf Dungeon.
Documented.
Written cleanly in ink.
Real.
Shunjiro flipped through the pages slowly, eyes scanning each line, each note. He recognized moments instantly, the way things were described, the way events were broken down into structured observations.
“…This is crazy,” he said quietly.
Itsuki leaned in beside him, reading over his shoulder.
“It’s everything,” she murmured.
At the end of one page, a separate note caught his eye.
The handwriting was different.
Sharper.
More direct.
Kaito.
Short evaluations.
Observations on their decisions.
Strengths.
Weaknesses.
Moments where they adapted.
Moments where they almost failed.
Shunjiro stopped on one of them, reading it more carefully than the others.
He didn’t speak.
But something shifted in his expression.
Itsuki noticed.
“What is it?” she asked softly.
He shook his head slightly, but a small smile formed.
“…He was watching closer than I thought.”
She looked at the notes herself.
Then smiled faintly.
“He still is.”
Shunjiro exhaled, leaning back slightly in his chair, the open ledger resting in his hands.
Ten pages.
That was their entire story so far.
And yet it felt bigger than that.
“…We’re really doing this,” he said quietly.
Itsuki turned her head toward him.
“Yeah.”
Her voice was soft but certain.
“We are.”
He closed the ledger gently, holding it for just a moment longer before setting it back down on the table.
The official stepped away the moment another presence entered the room.
Footsteps firm and measured echoed softly against the stone floor as a higher-ranked individual approached from the far end of the archive. The air shifted subtly, the kind of quiet authority that didn’t need to announce itself.
The official gave Shunjiro and Itsuki a brief glance.
“Stay here,” he said. “Do not touch anything beyond your assigned section. I’ll return shortly.”
Shunjiro nodded. “Understood.”
The official moved off to speak with the newcomer, their voices lowering into a quiet exchange somewhere between the shelves.
For a moment there was silence.
Then Shunjiro slowly turned his head toward Itsuki.
She was already looking at him.
She didn’t need to ask.
Didn’t need to say anything.
She knew that look.
Itsuki exhaled softly, a faint, knowing smile tugging at her lips. “…You’re going to do something you’re not supposed to.”
Shunjiro scratched the back of his head, grinning slightly. “Just… a quick look.”
Her eyes flicked toward the far sections of the room, the ones they had passed earlier.
The ones marked with heavier ranks.
“This is a bad idea,” she said.
“…Yeah,” he admitted.
A pause.
Then she stepped forward anyway.
“…Make it fast.”
That was all the permission he needed.
They moved quickly, footsteps light against the floor as they slipped past the C-rank section and deeper into the archive. The shelves grew heavier the further they went, larger bindings, thicker spines, older material.
SSS Rank.
Even standing in front of that section felt different.
The ledgers here weren’t just records.
They were legacies.
Shunjiro reached out slowly, scanning the names engraved along the spines until one caught his eye.
“Squad 8.”
He grabbed it.
And immediately felt the weight.
“…This thing is insane,” he muttered, adjusting his grip as he pulled it free. It was far heavier than anything in the C-rank section, dense, packed, as if it carried more than just paper.
Itsuki stepped closer, glancing toward the hallway behind them. “Hurry.”
They moved to a nearby table, and Shunjiro set the ledger down with a soft thud.
For a second, he just stared at it.
Then opened it.
Page after page filled the inside.
Neat documentation but on a completely different scale than theirs.
Quests listed in clean, structured detail.
From B-rank to SSS-rank
Shunjiro’s eyes lingered on those entries longer than the rest.
“…SSS-ranked missions…” he murmured. “There’s so many.”
Itsuki leaned in beside him, her expression tightening slightly. “Those aren’t normal missions.”
“No,” he said quietly. “They’re not.”
SSS-ranked operations weren’t just difficult.
They were rare.
The kind of assignments that involved entire regions. Political conflicts. Wars between territories. Things that shaped continents, not just cities.
He flipped through more pages, faster now.
And then he noticed it.
“…This isn’t like ours.”
Itsuki looked closer. “What do you mean?”
“The format,” he said, tapping lightly against one of the entries. “It’s different. The way it’s written. The structure.”
He flipped back a few pages, comparing.
“They’re not operating under one system,” he realized. “These missions… they’re from different continents.”
Itsuki’s eyes widened slightly.
“They’re not tied to one place,” she said.
Shunjiro nodded.
“That means they move freely. No restrictions. No assigned region.” His grip on the page tightened slightly. “They go wherever they’re needed.”
He leaned back slightly, letting out a quiet breath.
“…How strong do you have to be for that?”
Itsuki didn’t answer.
She didn’t need to.
They both knew.
His eyes drifted back to the title on the cover.
“Squad 8…”
A faint frown crossed his face.
“You think it’s eight people?” he asked.
“Probably,” Itsuki replied.
Shunjiro looked back down at the pages.
Eight people.
And this…
This was what they’d done.
“…Eight monsters,” he muttered.
Itsuki nudged his arm lightly. “Shunjiro.”
He blinked, snapping back.
“Right. Right.”
He flipped toward the back of the ledger quickly, fingers moving faster now as a quiet urgency settled in. The official wouldn’t be gone long.
“Just one more thing,” he said under his breath.
The final pages came into view.
Summaries.
Evaluations.
Leadership notes.
And then a name.
Shunjiro froze.
His hand stopped mid-turn.
The world seemed to narrow to a single line of ink.
Itsuki noticed immediately.
“…Shunjiro?”
He didn’t answer.
His eyes were locked on the page.
The name stared back at him.
Clear.
Unmistakable.
Takeshi Tenzai – EX Rank.