Aiko pushed through the tavern’s swinging door with a satisfied sigh, the last notes of sea‑shanty fiddle fading behind her. Ryuji followed, cheeks warm from laughter more than ale. “Good night’s work,” he said, stretching his arms overhead. “Three pubs, six bartenders, and a dozen sailors, still zero clues on Squad 8, but at least we know the stout in this town is honest.” “We also know the tavern’s dice are loaded,” Aiko muttered, jingling a lighter coin pouch. “Now, where did Itsuki say they were staying? The Sea Fern… Sea Foam… something‑Fern maybe?” Ryuji squinted down the moonlit street. “No idea. But how many inns can there be?” They started along the cobblestones. Gull‑wyverns wheeled overhead, crying into the dark. Half a block later, they passed a neat blue‑shuttered building with a wooden sign: Sea Fern Inn. Lantern light glowed through curtained windows, and the smell of fresh bread drifted from the kitchen vent. Aiko yawned. “Cozy place. Too bad we still have to find the one the guild picked.” Ryuji nodded, oblivious, and they carried on. Ten minutes later the street opened onto a wide crescent beach. Moonlight spilled across damp sand, and small waves hissed up to kiss their boots. “Well,” Aiko said, unbuckling her shoes, “if we can’t find a bed, salt water will do.” She waded in up to her knees with a squeal at the chill, then splashed Ryuji. He dodged, lost footing, and landed with a laugh. They chased each other like kids, splashing water onto each other. Out of breath, they sat on a drift‑log. The water whispered in and out. “Funny,” Aiko said, watching the bright line of the horizon. “We ditched a palace for this… and I don’t miss the marble halls one bit.” Ryuji leaned back on his hands. “Same. Father always said a second prince’s life is to be seen, not heard.” He snorted. “Bet he never imagined I’d be sleeping on beaches and punching goblins.” “My parents measured worth by family name,” Aiko recalled. “Tom always said worth is brewed over time and shared, never forced.” Her smile softened. “Joining Shunjiro feels more right than any royal banquet.” “Imagine when we hit SSS rank,” Ryuji mused, eyes bright. “We’ll stroll back home, drop our guild badges on the throne room rug, and say, ‘Keep your titles; we’ve made our own.’” Aiko laughed, clinking her flask to an invisible goblet. “To making them choke on pride.” The night wind calmed. Salt air and tired muscles pulled them down; they lay side by side on the cool sand, gazing at scattered stars until sleep claimed them. Back at the Sea Fern Inn the hallway clock struck five. Itsuki paced the lobby. “They should have been back hours ago.” Shunjiro knotted a boot lace. “All right, let’s find them.” Tetsuo shrugged on his coat. “Late‑night swim, guaranteed.” Yoshinori slipped arms through his vest. “You idiot, why would they pick the ocean over a warm bed?” Shunjiro swung the door open. “Still worth a look.” They hurried down empty streets. Fishing boats were already sliding from the docks, their lamps flickering across the dark water. At the first breath of dawn they reached the beach, and there, twenty paces from the tide line, lay two familiar shapes. Tetsuo pumped a fist. “Ha! Called it.” Yoshinori sighed but couldn’t hide a hint of relief. “Pure luck.” “Luck of genius,” Tetsuo whispered, elbowing him. Aiko stirred as Shunjiro knelt beside her. “Morning already?” she mumbled, sand in her hair. Ryuji blinked up at the pale light edging the sea. “Guess we lost track.” Shunjiro sat on the log. “No harm done. Sit and enjoy before the day runs away.” Itsuki settled on his right, hugging her knees. Tetsuo flopped near Ryuji, still smug. Yoshinori remained standing, arms folded, though his eyes softened at the horizon fire. For a long minute nobody spoke. Seagulls cried overhead; small waves rushed and fell like calm breathing. The guild’s worries, the missing brother, tomorrow’s quests, rested quiet beneath the shared sky. Shunjiro exhaled. “People pay fortunes for views like this. We get it free.” Aiko brushed sand off her sleeve. “Add a tavern breakfast and it’s perfect.” Ryuji grinned. “And maybe after naps we find that warehouse.” Tetsuo punched his shoulder. “Then train for the beach race.” Yoshinori finally sat, slipping his boots off to feel the sand. “Five minutes. Then we get some sleep.” Itsuki smiled at them all, eyes shining. “Five perfect minutes.” They watched the stars glisten off the water. For those moments, the Strongest Guild needed nothing else, just salt air, steady friends, and the promise of another day to chase their dreams. A calm hush still wrapped the dawn when Yoshinori’s head snapped toward the open water. “Do you feel that?” he whispered. At first it was only a subtle pull, like the sea inhaling. Then the shoreline trembled. Foam lines ripped backward, exposing slick sand. Anchored fishing boats forty meters out began to spin in place, their masts creaking. “It’s a back‑surge,” Aiko breathed, scrambling to her feet. “Water never does that unless-” A pulse deeper than thunder rolled through the bay. The retreating sea reversed in an instant, heaving forward as a wall of black‑green. The first wave struck the outer boats; hulls pitched sky‑high, nets and lantern rigs flinging like toys. One craft somersaulted, casting silver fish and gear into the air before vanishing in the churn. Tetsuo’s jaw dropped. “That wave just threw a big ass boat!” A second swell rose. Mid‑swell, the surface bulged, scales reflecting sunrise like shards of broken mirrors. Something enormous breached, larger than any whale, its ridge‑backed silhouette blocking the horizon. Spray exploded off stone‑thick plates; water sheeted down a chest as broad as a city gate. One hundred meters offshore the monster straightened, towering six stories. Jagged dorsal fins ran from skull to tail like shattered battlements. Two huge blue eyes burned in its shadowed face, cold and searching. The beast drew a breath, chest expanding like a forge bellows, then unleashed a roar so deep it rattled bones. Sand leapt. Windows in the dock town clattered. The guild clamped hands to ears, sound still punched through palms, a living shockwave. Itsuki’s staff shook in her grip. “Light help us…” Her voice quivered. She stepped behind Shunjiro, knuckles white around the carved oak. Shunjiro swallowed hard. Fear clawed his gut, yet his feet edged forward as if challenge called him. “Stay calm,” he forced out. “We’ve handled surprises before.” Yoshinori’s gaze glazed with calculation, then dread. He felt the creature’s spiritual pressure rolling in crushing tides, dwarfing even Makoto’s corrupted surge. “This thing is beyond class rank,” he murmured. “Beyond any level we know. If we fight, we die.” Aiko’s breath came quick. She tucked her flask away with shaking fingers. “I believed the ocean was meant for drinking games and sun‑kicks, not death lizards!” “I don’t want to die!” Ryuji yelled over the wind, eyes wide. “Not before I find the love of my life, preferably someone sane!” Tetsuo, hair whipping across his face, actually grinned. “Biggest punching bag I’ve ever seen.” He slammed fists together, eager sparks lighting his eyes. “Tetsuo, no!” Yoshinori barked. “Look at the boats, it tossed them like driftwood. You’re flesh and stone, not a mountain.” “You underestimate me, Yoshi,” Tetsuo shot back, rolling his shoulders. “I am the Mountain God.” Another wave crashed, spraying their legs with icy foam even at this distance. Houses up the beach lit lanterns; alarm bells began clanging inland. Itsuki stepped beside Shunjiro, voice trembling but clear. “What do we do?” Shunjiro locked eyes with Yoshinori, the only one steady enough to think. Yoshinori shook his head once. “Right now? Nothing. Move civilians, take cover, pray it leaves.” The monster’s blue gaze swept the shoreline, unhurried, as if weighing whether the ants on the sand mattered. Each slow blink felt like thunderclouds rolling. Shunjiro clenched his fists, torn between rushing the surf and protecting his friends. “Not backing down,” he whispered to himself, though fear sweated down his spine. Wind howled around them, tasting of salt and something ancient. The villagers’ shouts echoed beyond the dunes. Still the titan watched, waves hissing at its knees. No one in the guild spoke; hearts hammered too loud. They stood half‑kneeling on wet sand, six small shapes before a living cliff, waiting to see if dawn would turn into doomsday. Lightning flickered across Yoshinori’s knuckles as spray whipped around them. “Okay, team,” Aiko snapped, forcing a laugh she didn’t feel. “Ideas on how to get close without being breakfast?” Ryuji squinted at the towering monster. “Could swap something big in its face. Aiko, see any wrecked boats handy?” “Plenty,” she muttered, scanning the beach. “Just remember, I’m not swapping myself with it.” The creature’s deep blue eyes fixed on their group. Waves slapped its chest like drum beats. “Fine, loud first,” Yoshinori said. Arcs of crackling power climbed his arms. “Cover your eyes!” He thrust both palms skyward, then snapped them toward the beast. Forks of white lightning speared the dawn, smashing into the titan’s glowing eyes. Steam burst; the monster reeled, bellowing, tail carving an arc of water the height of a building. “Scatter!” Yoshinori shouted. The guild sprang apart. The wave exploded over where they’d stood, smashing driftwood and rolling barrels up the sand. Salt stung eyes and cuts. “Shunjiro, opening, left side!” Yoshinori called. Shunjiro bolted, spirit aura flaring bright. “Eat this!” He leapt and drove a fist into the beast’s scaled thigh. Bone‑jarring impact rang up his arm. “Like punching a wall!” he yelled, stumbling back, hand numb. The titan’s head snapped toward him with a snarl. Itsuki’s staff flared gold, sending a pulse that tightened Shunjiro’s bruised muscles. “Careful!” Aiko reached out and swapped Shunjiro with a broken piece of wood lying nearby, yanking him out of the path of snapping jaws. He re‑appeared, tumbling feet‑first into wet sand. “Thanks, Aiko!” he gasped. Tetsuo, meanwhile, had sprinted forward while the monster raged. “Mountain God coming through!” He leapt, hands gripping a ridge plate. Muscles knotted, he began climbing the scaly wall. “I’ll find a soft spot!” Yoshinori hissed to Aiko, “Distract it again!” She spotted a half‑sunk fishing skiff in the shallows. “That’ll do.” With a flash, the skiff vanished, replaced by a barrel, and re‑appeared crashing against the monster’s jaw. Twin blue eyes blinked in surprise. “Nice throw!” Ryuji cheered, skin hardening stone‑gray. He waded waist‑deep and hammered the beast’s ankle joint with reinforced fists. The hit made it shift its weight, but also swung its tail sideways. “Tail!” Yoshinori yelled. The thick limb slammed, sending Ryuji skidding back in frothing water and flinging Aiko twenty paces across sand. Both rolled to a stop, coughing. Aiko spat grit. “I hate beaches.” The monster reared, chest plates rattling, and roared again. The shockwave bowed palm trees inland; windows fractured along the beachfront shacks. The guild clamped hands over their ears. Itsuki’s eyes widened as her staff’s crystal dimmed. “My energy is nearly gone!” Sweat dripped down her temple. She threw one more beam of healing at Ryuji’s bruised ribs, then staggered backward until her knees hit sand. “I’m out. I’m sorry-” “Tetsuo, status?” Shunjiro called. From halfway up the scaly rampart Tetsuo shouted, “Harder than granite! But I’m loving the view!” His laughter echoed, half wild joy, half strain. The beast slammed its tail again. Aiko swapped a fallen mast with Tetsuo just in time; he dropped safely to the beach as the tail smashed the spot he’d been climbing. The mast splintered like twigs. “Is it just me,” Aiko panted, “or is this thing madder every minute?” “It’s adapting,” Yoshinori answered, dodging a high‑pressure spout that blasted a trench in the dunes. His mind raced, darting through tactics, and finding none. “We can’t dent it, and Itsuki’s out. We’ll die if we stay.” Ryuji wiped blood from his lip. “Without heals, we’re toast.” Shunjiro stood bent, hands on knees, chest heaving. Still, his eyes burned with refusal. “We can’t give up… There has to be a way.” Another roar shook the shore. Water crashed around their ankles. Yoshinori scanned the chaos, heart pounding. The titan towered, impossibly huge, seemingly untouched. “We need a plan,” Yoshinori muttered to himself, brain firing toward blank walls. “Think… think…” But no answer surfaced. The guild was bruised, exhausted, and one healer short of hope, facing a sea god under a sky that was turning from sunrise gold to storm gray. The battle line was a shredded crescent of sand and foaming surf when the titan’s tail blurred. Ryuji never saw it coming. One heartbeat he was braced in the shallows, the next he felt ribs fold beneath a slab of muscle and scale. The hit launched him like driftwood, smashing him against jagged rocks at the cove’s edge. A wet crack echoed; agony flashed white behind his eyes. He slid to the ground, salt water pooling around him while crimson stained his shirt. Damn it… that hurt like hell! He spat copper, one arm instinctively hugging broken bone even as raw resolve refused to let him black out. Farther up‑beach, Tetsuo ripped a head‑size boulder from the tidal rubble. “Over here, you oversized tuna!” he bellowed, adrenaline turning the stone into a cannonball hurled straight at the monster’s brow. It struck, stonelike scales chipped, but fury answered. A fore‑flipper bigger than a wagon scythed sideways, swatting Tetsuo into the froth. The shock of freezing water stole his breath; currents tugged him under. Come on, Tetsuo, get up! Don’t let it end like this! He clawed upward, limbs shaking, lungs burning. “Ryuji! Tetsuo!” Aiko’s voice split the wind, fear cracking its edge. She stood ankle‑deep in suds, fists trembling. This is bad. Really, really bad… With two heavy hitters down, only three stood between the shoreline and disaster. Spray‑soaked and panting, Shunjiro, Yoshinori, and Aiko drew close, waves slapping their calves. “We need to hit it where it hurts,” Yoshinori barked, forcing steel into his tone while mind‑mapping the monster’s movements: a slight hesitation whenever those luminous eyes blinked. Target the sight, blind the brain. “Aiko, can you get me close to its eyes?” She nodded, wiping rain and grit from her brow. Power reserves flickered like a dying lantern, but quitting wasn’t an option. She scooped a jagged rock, measured an arc in her head. One shot… got to make it count. She hurled the stone; the instant before impact her aura flashed. The rock vanished, Yoshinori appeared in its place, suspended inches from a glowing socket. The creature’s breath gusted hot and rancid. Yoshinori’s hair whipped back, electricity snapping across his skin. He gathered every spark left in his core; arcs braided around him like white serpents. “Take this!” he roared. A thunderclap of lightning burst point‑blank into the titanic eye. Steam billowed; the beast screamed, a sound that rattled ribs. That’s right, you bastard, Yoshinori thought, shoulders sagging as his vision tunneled. Behind him Aiko sagged to one knee, nails gouging wet sand. She whirled to Shunjiro, voice ragged. “Get ready!” With the last flicker of her swap gift she traded Shunjiro’s position with a plank swirling fifty feet above the monster’s skull. Wind roared in his ears. For an instant Shunjiro floated against bruised dawn clouds, a current of power flooding every vein, the same transcendent surge that had crowned him S‑rank in the exam yard now blazed tenfold. What… What is this?! Fists ignited white, brighter than sunrise. “This is it!” he shouted, diving like a meteor. Both punches met the creature’s face; the detonation split water and sky. A ring‑shock geysered outward, flattening waves, rattling distant fishing huts. For a breathless moment the sea‑giant reeled, then crashed backward, thundering into deep water. Shunjiro hovered amid drifting steam, senses spinning. Did I… did I really do that? A wry smile twitched, Hell yeah, I did… then strength fled. He dropped toward the churning blue, vision dimming. “No, Shunjiro!” Aiko screamed, heart seizing. She ripped at the dregs of her power, one last swap. Sand displaced; Shunjiro reappeared slump‑limbed beside Itsuki on the damp shore. Itsuki, pale and shaking, crawled to him. Her staff flickered a weak glow as she funneled the final threads of her healing into his battered frame. “Shunjiro, please be okay…” Tears cut tracks in the salt on her cheeks. Yoshinori slogged back, boots sinking in suck‑mud. Exhaustion etched deep lines on his face, but his eyes, dark, analytical, flicked from their fallen leader to the sea where two wounded blue lights resurfaced. What was that power? And why now? From the deep the titan rose again, half its face scorched but fury undimmed. It unleashed a roar that crushed the air, rattling loose timbers behind the guild. Foam exploded around its chest; red‑stained water streamed from shattered scales. “It’s still standing?” Ryuji groaned, staggering upright, one hand bracing cracked ribs. Aiko’s shoulders sagged as she took in the behemoth’s returning silhouette. “We’re out of our league here.” Yoshinori’s fists clenched around nothing, knuckles white. “There’s no way we are winning,” he snapped, alarm sharpening every word. “We need backup, and we need it now.” Rain sluiced down, waves pounded, and the sea monster advanced once more, while the battered guild, gathered around their fallen friend, faced the cold truth of limits met under a storm‑striped dawn.