The morning sun washed Tierwyn's walls in amber, the city alive with voices that mixed relief and unease. Refugees streamed through the gates under watchful guard, their carts stacked with the remains of lives burned away. Merchants haggled, smiths clanged at their forges, and adventurers boasted of hunts over mugs of ale even as the memory of the Orc King's roar lingered in the minds of those who fought.
For Drathan, Kenshin, Seme, Mira, and Velra's squads, the return was quieter. Muscles ached, armor carried dents, and the scent of poultices still clung to their clothes. They had survived, but not all had—the empty spots in the ranks were reminders sharper than any wound.
The guild hall swelled with noise when they entered. Cheers broke out, some genuine, some edged with fear. Eyes followed Drathan in particular, whispers spreading like wildfire: the one who erased ogres in seconds… the one who bent time itself.
Kenshin smirked, leaning toward his brother. "Yo, you got groupies now. Bet half these dudes think you're gonna eat the city if you sneeze too hard."
Seme grunted, adjusting his gauntlets. "And the other half probably plotting how to jump him in his sleep."
"Relax," Drathan said with a lazy grin, though his eyes flicked across the hall, catching every sideways glance. "If they try, they gonna find out why void don't play fair."
Aelira, the guild master, stood at the dais, her presence silencing the hall. Her eyes lingered on Velra's squads, then on Drathan and his brothers. "The orc threat is broken, but far from gone. Scouts report scattered bands regrouping. Tierwyn will need every sword, spell, and strategy to hold the borders. For your deeds, you will all be rewarded—but I warn you, greater storms are coming."
The hall murmured, half in pride, half in dread.
Velra stood among her squad, her lips pressed thin. Outwardly, she was composed, her voice steady when she rallied her people. Inwardly, her thoughts spiraled. That power Drathan showed… it wasn't human. Not natural. Not something a city, or even a kingdom, could cage. She hated to admit it, but some part of her was drawn to it—the raw, undeniable force of someone who could break armies alone. It terrified her as much as it fascinated her.
Later that evening, when the trio returned to their villa, the atmosphere shifted. The moment they stepped through the gates, their servants rushed to greet them. The elven twins, Lyari and Sylwen, bowed gracefully, their platinum hair catching the firelight of the courtyard torches. The older white-haired elf, Serenya, stood behind them with a dignified poise, though her silver eyes softened when they landed on Drathan. The wolfkin siblings, Kaelen and Veyra, carried baskets of freshly laundered linens, their tails swishing nervously until Kenshin clapped Kaelen on the back and cracked a joke about "home guard duty." Nyla, the dark-elf halfling, leaned against a column with her usual sharp smirk, though her gaze lingered a moment longer on Mira, as if silently measuring the beastkin's mood.
The villa hummed with life, its halls warm and lit with the glow of enchanted lanterns. The hearth roared in the main room, and the scent of roasted meat and fresh herbs filled the air. Mira lingered near the fire, her tail flicking anxiously, eyes darting to Drathan more than once. She had bared her burden the night before, and though they'd promised to help, the weight hadn't lifted.
Kenshin dropped into a plush chair, stretching with a groan. "Finally, back home. Real food, real chairs, and no damn bugs crawling into my boots."
"Don't get too comfy," Seme said, setting his greatsword against the wall. "We still gotta hit the guild tomorrow, claim rewards, and figure out our next move."
"Speaking of moves," Drathan added, settling into a seat with his usual lazy sprawl, "we gotta make a plan for Mira's problem. We can't just charge in blind."
The servants went about their duties quietly, but their ears twitched at the mention of Mira. Kaelen paused with a jug of water, and even Serenya's serene mask slipped for an instant. Mira's ears flattened, her voice soft but steady. "I know it's asking a lot… but I trust you. My brother and sister deserve better than being chained to that gang."
Kenshin leaned forward, a rare seriousness cutting through his grin. "Yo, Mira, we told you—we gotchu. Don't matter if it's monsters in the wild or scum in the city. Ain't nobody extorting family while we around."
Her lips curved into the faintest of smiles. "You make it sound so simple."
"'Cause it is," Drathan said, his tone calm but weighty. "We handled an Orc King. Some street trash don't even register on the scale."
Seme tapped the table, his gaze sharp. "Still, we don't underestimate. We go in knowing the ground, the numbers, and the risks. Then we clean it."
Velra, who had accompanied them for the debrief, lingered near the doorway, arms crossed. She studied Drathan as he spoke, the way his words carried weight even when he played them off casually. Does he even realize how dangerous he is? Or does he just not care? A shiver ran down her spine, but beneath it was something else—a pull, a curiosity she couldn't shake.
The fire crackled, shadows stretching long across the polished floors. The villa's air carried laughter, clinking cups, and whispered worries all at once. They had faced monsters, ruins, and an Orc King, but now their eyes turned inward—toward Tierwyn itself, toward gangs in the slums, and toward the unseen war Mira had dragged into the open.
The night stretched, heavy with unspoken promises. The trio had found their next battle, and it wasn't waiting outside the walls—it was waiting within them.