The surf rolled in gentle crescents now, as though the ocean itself were ashamed of the havoc it had just helped unleash. Fires along the waterfront sputtered into smoky embers, and broken docks creaked like tired lungs finally catching breath. Where moments ago two guilds had fought side‑by‑side for survival, there was only the hush of wind and the soft slap of tide. The Titans, an S‑rank guild whose name alone could still a tavern, moved among the battered streets, checking civilians and kicking aside loose rubble. Beside them, The Strongest guild lingered on the sand, bruised yet buzzing with the afterglow of victory. Lines of rank and reputation blurred; tonight they were simply comrades who’d stared down the same nightmare and won. Hikari broke the silence first. The dwarf slapped her palm against a ruined piling, then threw back her head in a laugh bright enough to scatter gulls. “Well, I must say, I’ve never had a beach day quite like this one!” Her grin was so infectious that Shunjiro, still kneeling where Itsuki had finished patching his ribs, couldn’t help but answer with one of his own. “Next time, let’s just stick to building sandcastles, huh?” Laughter rippled through both guilds, washing the last dredges of fear from the shore. Even Rei’s stern profile eased, her shoulders dropping as she surveyed the ragtag circle. Aira strolled among the fighters, palms glowing aquamarine. Salt‑sweet water orbs floated at her side like obedient bubbles. She pressed one into Yoshinori’s hands, another to Tetsuo’s. “Hydrate before your muscles seize,” she said, soothing as sea‑foam. Across from her, Ryuji straightened despite the bandages wrapping his cracked ribs. He tried to look casual, failed, then cleared his throat. “Aira, since you saved my life twice tonight… dinner? Tomorrow? Somewhere dry?” Aira’s eyes crinkled kindly above her smile. “You’re sweet, Ryuji, but I’m afraid I have to decline.” Ryuji sighed, half‑dramatic, half‑sincere. “One day, ocean angel,” he muttered, eliciting a snicker from Hikari and a theatrical eye‑roll from Daichi. Tetsuo groaned while wringing seawater from his tunic. “This is why I hate water fights,” he complained. “Sand everywhere!” Daichi, arms folded, leaned against a toppled mast. “You think that was bad? Try fighting ice drakes in Cosmic‑Continent blizzards. Your sweat freezes in mid‑air.” Tetsuo puffed up. “Oh yeah? We cleared the Goblin King’s lair ten‑to‑one and came out without a scratch.” “Ten‑to‑one?” Daichi scoffed. “Slow day where I’m from.” Their playful boasting earned another round of laughter, proof that victory could knit strangers into friends. Rei finally stepped toward The Strongest’s trio, Shunjiro, Yoshinori, and Itsuki, her boots crunching on broken shells. Hikari padded after her, still dripping seawater but beaming. Rei’s gaze swept over them, assessing; nothing in her posture invited false bravado. “Your intervention was… unexpected.” She paused, eyes narrowing slightly on Shunjiro’s bruised knuckles. “Bold, too.” Shunjiro rubbed the back of his neck. “We were actually here on another errand when the big guy showed up. Figured we couldn’t just watch the town get flattened.” Hikari gave him a hearty slap on the arm. “That punch of yours packed some wallop for a C‑rank, lad!” Yoshinori offered a respectful nod. “Speaking of speed, Rei, you said your unit was assisting a village north of here. The nearest settlement is at least forty kilometers. The fight lasted twenty minutes at best, impressive response time.” Rei’s lips quirked, part pride, part relief. “We were delivering medical supplies when a runner brought news of a ‘moving mountain in the surf.’ Hikari insisted we double‑time.” She tilted her head toward the dwarf, whose grin widened. Hikari shrugged. “Couldn’t let a good fight go to waste.” Itsuki stepped forward, eyes bright with gratitude. “If you hadn’t come when you did, we… might not be standing. Thank you.” Rei’s sternness softened. “Courage meets opportunity. You bought us the window we needed. Consider the gratitude mutual.” She extended a gloved hand; Itsuki shook it, cheeks flushed. Under a half‑collapsed pier, Akima knelt by Ryuji’s side, tapping his temple gently. “Head’s clear,” she announced. “But maybe save the flirting until you can breathe without wincing.” Ryuji managed a grin. “I’m multitasking.” Meanwhile, Aiko drifted near Daichi, curiosity sparking despite exhaustion. “So storm‑guy, ever tried mixing your wind with my spatial swaps?” Daichi lifted a brow. “Teleporting tornadoes? Sounds disastrous.” Then he smirked. “Let’s test it after breakfast.” Tetsuo, hearing that, cracked his knuckles. “Sign me up. I’ll punch the tornado.” Hikari whooped. “I like this one!” At the group’s center Yoshinori turned to Rei. “We appreciate the lesson in battlefield coordination. If there’s ever a way to train with the Titans-” Rei cut him off with a measured nod. “When you’re ready to spar, send word to Titan‑HQ. We don’t turn away guilds who show promise.” Her gaze flicked to Shunjiro’s glowing fist prints etched into distant stone. “And you have promise.” Shunjiro’s heart thudded, pride mingling with exhaustion. He caught Aiko’s eye; she offered a weary thumbs‑up. “We still have a lot to learn,” he admitted to Rei. “But today… we proved we have what it takes.” Aiko, propped against Yoshinori’s shoulder, echoed with a small but certain smile. For tonight, the monster was gone, the city still standing, and two guilds, one legendary, one rising, shared the quiet satisfaction of having saved countless lives together. Guild Hall of Radiance – 5:30 a.m. Akira, still dressed in travel leathers, paced beneath the great tapestries. She had been awake all night, again, mind circling Renjiro and his tainted scythe. Kaito, on pre dawn patrol, spotted her restless stride. He approached softly. “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, voice low to match the hour. Akira shook her head, a tight smile on her lips. “Every time I close my eyes I see that scythe cutting down my Knights. Renjiro’s still out there, and I hate waiting.” Kaito nodded, leaning against a marble balustrade. “Worry keeps sharper hours than any watch bell. Thought talking might ease it.” They spoke in hushed tones, lanterns flickering above them, recounting rumors, theories, anything to keep the dark thoughts orderly. The conversation broke when the inner doors burst open. A breathless courier skidded across the polished floor and saluted. “Master Kaito, Lady Akira, urgent sky‑mirror from the Coastal Kingdom!” Kaito straightened; Akira’s hand went to her sword. “Report,” Kaito ordered. “The Shore Reaver, the leviathan from the old records, has surfaced at 5:02,” the courier gasped. “They request Gilded Blade assistance immediately.” Akira’s eyes widened. “It appears every fifty years, today’s the cycle…” Kaito’s pulse spiked as realization struck. “And Shunjiro’s guild left for that coast yesterday.” Without another word he unbuckled the heavy ankle weights he wore to curb his speed within city walls. Blue‑white aura flared around him. Akira stepped forward. “We’ll get the horses ready-” “No time,” Kaito cut in. “That will take all day, I can run it in minutes.” She frowned. “Superspeed that far will drain you.” “I’ll endure.” He clasped her forearm, brief, firm. “Rally whoever’s awake. Follow as fast as you can.” Akira exhaled, worry etched in the lines around her eyes. “Bring them back alive, Kaito.” He managed a half smile. “That’s the plan.” Then he became a blur of light, streaking out of the great doors and into the early morning sky, wind cracking in his wake. Akira turned to the courier. “Sound the ready‑horn. Every Blade on morning roster saddles up, now.” As footsteps thundered through the waking fortress, she whispered to the empty hall, “Hold on, kids. Backup’s coming.” Rooftops, northern quarter of the Coastal Kingdom, Lars hauled himself over a cracked parapet and crouched against the cool tiles, crimson cloak fluttering in the breeze. Sora, Yuki, and Ryota followed in swift succession, boots thudding softly as they joined their guild master on the ruined roofline. Below them, the waterfront sprawled like a wounded beast, piers splintered, fishing shacks flattened, and huge gouges carved into the sand where the leviathan’s limbs had struck. Gulls wheeled over the wreckage, their cries sharp in the still‑raw morning air. Ryota whistled, running a clawed hand through his mess of hair. “Yeesh. Looks like a storm chewed the place up.” Sora leaned on the hilt of his short sword, silver hair whipping across his eyes. “Whoever dropped that thing did a number, though. Ocean’s calm again.” He flashed a half‑smile. “Maybe we head down, toss the heroes a compliment, and snag ourselves a little credit for cleanup?” Yuki scanned the shoreline through narrowed eyes. “Careful. Anything that takes out fishermen’s docks this bad could still be lurking.” Lars, fingers steepled before his chin, spoke at last. “All the more reason to check. We may have been late at muster, but we finish the job.” He had barely finished the sentence when the air thickened, first a subtle prickle across exposed skin, then a crushing weight, as if the very dawn light had congealed. Tiles beneath their boots vibrated; loose mortar rattled down the gutter. “What… was that?” Yuki whispered. A low, thrumming pulse rolled over the rooftops. From the eastern horizon bloomed a faint red glow, weak at first, then throbbing brighter, boom‑boom, like a gigantic heartbeat. Sora’s smirk faded. “Uh, Lars? That look normal to you?” “No,” Lars answered, voice flat. The glow condensed into a single line of scarlet light that raced along the sea’s edge, arcing inland with impossible speed until it met itself, click, and sealed shut. In the span of a heartbeat, a translucent crimson dome spanned the entire beach district. Inside, shattered boardwalks and flooded streets shimmered eerily beneath the barrier’s sheen. A collective silence gripped the four. Ryota’s ears flattened. “Barrier magic that big? That’s… beyond A-rank.” He flexed his hands, uneasy. “Feels like it’s squeezing my lungs.” Sora swallowed, tongue suddenly dry. “Spiritual pressure’s insane.” “Look at the runes, see those filaments in the red light? That’s binding enchantment, not shielding. It’s meant to trap, not protect.” Yuki added. Lars steadied his breathing, pale eyes reflecting the scarlet glow. “All right, Mars Guild, listen up.” He planted his fist against the roof tiles. “Whatever did this, we’re not charging blind. We regroup at ground level, gather intel, and locate survivors on the perimeter.” He glanced over his shoulder, voice lower. “No lone‑wolf moves, understood?” Three nods answered him, though Ryota muttered under his breath, “Yeah, well, I liked it better when cleanup only meant hauling driftwood.” Sora forced a shaky grin. “Guess the day’s not done after all.” A hush swept the shoreline the instant the dome sealed. Fishing shacks half-collapsed by the earlier battle now reflected a deep scarlet glow, and breakers sloshed against the barrier’s inner wall with a hiss like steam on iron. Both guilds stood ankle-deep in damp sand, staring at the living cage that had materialised around them. Hiroki was the first to admit what everyone felt. “What… what is this?” The lion-man’s usual thundering confidence drained from his voice, leaving it thin and unsteady. He took an involuntary step back until his heel brushed Daichi’s boot. Daichi’s usual sarcasm died in his throat. He simply breathed, “Pressure’s brutal,” rubbing his forearm where goose-bumps prickled beneath scorched armour. Rei closed her eyes, brow furrowing. Invisible threads of telekinetic sense spread from her like sonar. When she opened her eyes again their steel-grey focus had lost a shade of certainty. “It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt. It’s powerful… and dark.” Aiko tried to lighten the mood, voice wobbling as she elbowed Ryuji. “Well, at least it’s not another sea monster… right?” She chuckled, but the laugh cracked halfway. Ryuji managed a crooked grin and muttered, “Could still be worse, we could be sober doing this.” No one joined the laugh this time; the joke died under the dome’s oppressive hum. Shunjiro inhaled, forcing his shoulders square. “Okay, everyone, let’s stay calm. We’ve handled a lot together. We can handle this too.” The statement was simple, yet coming from him, wide-eyed and still bruised, it anchored wavering nerves. Members of both guilds edged closer, drawing strength from the young fighter’s steadfast tone. Itsuki slipped her hand into Aiko’s, fingers ice-cold. “Yeah… at least we’re all in this together.” The dome’s pulsing grew louder, a slow boom-boom that rattled loose shingles on nearby roofs. Sand vibrated under their boots in time with each throb. Red light strobed across their armour, turning sweat into glowing rivulets. Standing apart, Yoshinori inspected the barrier’s surface, a translucent film that churned like liquid glass. Tiny arcs of static snapped between his fingertips and the crimson field. “We need to figure out what we’re dealing with. Fear won’t solve anything,” he said, blue sparks skating along his knuckles. “Let’s start by understanding the barrier’s nature and find a way out.” Rei met his gaze, her own strategic mind shifting gears. “Agreed. Data first.” Aira raised both palms toward the shoreline. Sea-water obeyed, curling into twin serpents that slithered over sand before rocketing toward the dome. “I can try to manipulate the water around the barrier,” she said. “If it reacts to external forces, we might learn something.” Streams hit the crimson surface with a hiss. Instead of splashing, the water flattened, spread across the membrane in luminous blue veins, then was violently repelled, spraying salty mist back over the group. The dome’s heartbeat quickened, pulses hammering every second. Rei’s eyes tracked the oscillation. “It’s reactive,” she murmured. “But its energy signature feels… ancient.” Akima stepped forward, closing her eyes. Her psychic reach brushed the construct, and recoiled. A gasp escaped her. “It’s not just ancient,” she whispered, voice quivering. “It’s alive. And it’s watching us.” A tremor ran through the assembled fighters. Tetsuo’s smirk vanished; even Hikari’s hammer wavered at her side. Shunjiro planted a foot into the shifting sand, fists clenching. “Then we’ll show it we’re not afraid.” A low rumble rolled out of the surf, deep, distressed, and entirely too familiar. Hiroki’s ears flattened against his mane. “Tell me that’s not what I think it is…” Foam churned where the shoreline met the scarlet wall. Then the sea erupted. The Shore Reaver burst through in a geyser of black water, its scales scorched and cracked from earlier blows. Trapped inside the dome with them, the beast thrashed in panic, battering its own snout against the inner surface and sending crimson ripples racing up the arc like lightning in stained glass. Shunjiro’s bruised knuckles whitened around clenched fists. “It’s scared,” he breathed. “And cornered.” The creature’s tail whipped sideways, pulverising an abandoned fish market and flinging shattered crates the length of a city block. Where fragments struck the barrier they ricocheted inward, everything was sealed tight. “Everyone, fall back!” Rei commanded, her voice slicing through the new chaos. “We can’t mount a fresh assault in this condition.” Exhausted Titans formed a rearguard while The Strongest helped drag injured sailors and townsfolk toward the eastern seawall, the farthest point from the raging leviathan. Aiko stumbled beside Ryuji, who clutched his splinted ribs. “I’m officially out of swaps,” she confessed between ragged breaths. “We need distance.” Yoshinori’s mind raced even as he supported Itsuki, whose healing reserves were spent. “The dome didn’t appear because of the Reaver,” he muttered, half to himself. “It trapped it, just like us.” Daichi, hovering overhead on a cushion of wind, surveyed their shrinking safe zone. “Two hundred metres of ground left before we hit the barrier’s back wall,” he called down. “After that? Nowhere else to run.” Hikari planted her hammer in the cracked cobblestones, leaning on the haft while she sucked wind. “Anyone got a plan B? Preferably one that doesn’t involve getting turned into seafood chowder?” No answer came. The Reaver slammed its head against the dome again; a spider-web of luminous fissures flashed, then healed, as though the barrier itself breathed and mended. Shunjiro watched the spectacle, heart hammering. Who put this here? he wondered. And why now, right after we beat the thing? Akima’s voice drifted across the group, eerie and distant as she skimmed the barrier with her mind. “I feel… intent. Something, or someone, is steering this.” Yoshinori’s gaze sharpened. “A prison?” he posited. “Or bait?” Rei turned toward him, eyes cold with calculation. “Either way, we’re inside it. Until we learn what powers the dome, assaulting the Reaver again is suicide.” Behind them, the monster roared, a howl raw with fear rather than rage, then smashed its tail into a warehouse, timber and slate exploding outward. Exhausted fighters took position along the eastern brink, weapons ready yet arms trembling. The battered heroes stared at one another for answers none of them yet possessed, the Reaver’s distant roars echoing their own unsettled thoughts as the mystery of the crimson dome deepened.