The morning came gently—soft light filtering through the lodge windows, touching every surface like a whisper. The mountain air was cold, clean, and heavy with dew. Birds sang faintly in the distance, their songs bouncing off the valley walls.
Inside the shared room, chaos had become serenity.
Ash was sprawled across his bed, one arm hanging over the edge, snoring so softly it barely counted as noise. Kieran was on the floor, blanket wrapped around him like a cocoon, half-buried under a pillow he'd pulled down during the night. Valen was still and neat, sleeping on his side with a blade within reach. Aurelion slept upright against the wall, expression serene as if meditating even in rest. Seraphine had somehow curled up at the foot of Lunaria's bed, muttering something about breakfast in her dreams.
And Lunaria Vale—silver-haired, moonlit even under the daylight—was already awake.
He had been for an hour.
There was something about morning that suited him. The quiet. The stillness. The fragile pause before the world remembered to breathe again.
He slipped silently out of bed, careful not to disturb the others. His bare feet made no sound against the wooden floor as he tied his pink ribbon loosely around his hair, the soft strands falling to his waist. His movements were delicate, precise—like a ritual.
Then he made his way to the kitchen.
The lodge's kitchen was rustic and large, with wide counters of stone and shelves packed with preserved goods. Mana-powered stoves hummed faintly in the corner, and an enchanted pot simmered gently, responding to Lunaria's quiet commands as he began to prepare breakfast.
He didn't need to cook. They could have conjured rations with a simple spell.
But he preferred this. The human rhythm of it.
The sound of sizzling. The smell of herbs. The soft clatter of knives against the board.
Aurelion woke first. He emerged silently, golden eyes half-lidded, hair tousled. He leaned against the doorframe, watching Lunaria with that soft, unreadable look he reserved for rare moments.
"You're up early," Aurelion murmured.
Lunaria glanced over his shoulder, smiling faintly. "Someone had to make sure everyone eats properly."
"…You enjoy it, don't you?"
He nodded once. "It's peaceful."
Aurelion chuckled quietly. "You make peace out of everything."
One by one, the others began to stir.
Kieran stumbled in next, rubbing his eyes, hair standing in every direction imaginable. "Why does it smell good already? Don't tell me you cooked—"
He froze mid-sentence when he saw Lunaria calmly setting food on the table.
"…You did cook," he said in awe. "Saints above, I'm keeping you forever."
Lunaria blinked. "Please don't."
Kieran laughed, unoffended.
Ash appeared shortly after, looking distinctly more awake and immediately suspicious. "You didn't put anything strange in there, did you?"
"No," Lunaria replied innocently.
"Last time you said that, Seraphine's tea changed color."
"That was her own doing," Lunaria said softly.
By the time everyone gathered, the table was a quiet feast: warm bread still steaming, roasted meat glistening with herbs, fruit arranged like art, and a faintly sweet aroma filling the air.
They ate together, as they had the night before.
Only this time, they were quieter—not from tension, but contentment. There was something sacred about mornings like this. Simple. Uncomplicated.
Even Ash, ever the stoic, seemed to let his shoulders drop for once.
Valen leaned back with a sigh, expression unguarded. "If peace had a taste," he murmured, "this would be it."
Lunaria tilted his head. "It's just breakfast."
"Exactly," Aurelion said softly. "That's what makes it beautiful."
Kieran grinned, tearing another piece of bread. "Kid's gonna ruin all other meals for me. I'll be dreaming about this when I'm old and gray."
Lunaria smiled faintly but didn't answer.
When the meal was done, he began collecting plates. None of them stopped him. They had learned by now that arguing over chores with Lunaria was like trying to outstare the moon—it wasn't going to happen.
Seraphine leaned against the window frame, content. "I could stay like this forever."
Ash gave a low hum of agreement. "For once, I wouldn't mind the world staying quiet."
But the world never stayed quiet for long.
The stillness shattered.
It began with a hum. Low. Wrong. Like the sound of a string being plucked deep beneath the earth.
Aurelion froze mid-motion. His eyes narrowed. "...Mana distortion."
The light through the windows darkened.
Outside, the air thickened—space itself trembled, like the world's skin being stretched too thin.
Lunaria turned toward the door, his expression still and unreadable. "...It's a gate."
Ash was already moving. "Everyone out."
They stepped outside in a rush, the quiet morning replaced by chaos.
The valley that had been tranquil just moments ago now glowed with pulsing violet light. The ground fractured. Wind howled, pulling at their clothes.
Two rifts had opened—directly in front of their lodge.
One burned with crimson fire, veins of molten light clawing into the air. The other shimmered with cold blue darkness, like frozen glass cracking against unseen pressure.
"Two gates?" Valen muttered, disbelief sharp in his tone. "At once?"
Aurelion's voice turned grim. "They're not just gates. They're S-rank convergence points."
"Here?" Seraphine hissed. "In the middle of nowhere?"
"No," Ash said quietly, stepping forward. "Not nowhere. They found him."
His gaze flicked toward Lunaria.
Lunaria didn't flinch. His expression remained calm, but his hands trembled slightly. "They're after me."
The air split open wider. The scent of sulfur and frost poured out. Shadows writhed. From the first gate emerged the forms of armored demons, their eyes burning with red hunger. From the second came creatures shaped from ice and shadow—void-born beasts that distorted the air around them.
Each step they took twisted the ground, turning grass to ash or frost.
Kieran's grin vanished. "Those aren't normal dungeon spawns."
"No," Valen said grimly. "Those are city-level threats."
Seraphine unsheathed her blade, flames igniting along its edge. "Then we end them before they grow."
Ash raised his hand. "Lunaria—stay back."
Lunaria's fingers brushed his ribbon. For a moment, his expression shifted—something sharp and deadly flickering behind his calm eyes. But then he nodded. "…Understood."
He stepped back, watching as the S-ranked hunters assembled like a storm.
Ash moved first—his blade cleaving through the first wave with brutal precision, his movements sharp as lightning. Sparks flew where his strikes met armor, the air vibrating from the impact.
Kieran followed, fists wreathed in golden aura, every punch shaking the earth. He laughed—wild, fierce—yet there was no joy in it, only the thrill of combat.
Aurelion's magic sang—a storm of radiant energy scattering shadow-born creatures like dust.
Valen's arrows cut through demons mid-leap, exploding into spears of light upon impact.
Seraphine danced through flames, every step poetry in motion.
Lunaria stood apart, silver hair whipped by wind, eyes reflecting the chaos like mirrors.
He wanted to fight.
Every instinct in him screamed to draw his blade, to end what threatened them. But he remembered the command.
[City Threat Level Detected.]
[Engagement restriction: active.]
He couldn't. Not without risking them all.
So he watched.
He memorized every strike, every spell, every drop of blood that hit the earth.
When the red gate split fully open, the ground cracked. A colossal demon emerged—horns like twisted metal, eyes burning with intelligence and rage. From the blue gate came its counterpart—a beast of frozen sinew, its breath freezing the air itself.
Two monsters. Both capable of razing cities.
The S-ranked hunters closed ranks instantly.
"Aurelion!" Ash barked.
"Already—"
A flash of light. Chains of pure radiance erupted from the ground, wrapping around the red demon's limbs. Kieran charged in, striking with thunderous force, cracking bone and molten hide.
Valen's arrows exploded in the other's eyes, blinding it long enough for Seraphine to leap onto its back, her sword sinking deep into its neck.
Ash—at the center—became a blur of motion, every strike precise, efficient, deadly.
Lunaria's ribbon fluttered violently in the wind. His heart pounded.
He could feel their mana burning, flaring dangerously close to their limits.
And then—one of the demons turned its gaze toward him.
It knew.
The chains around it snapped.
It lunged.
Lunaria stepped forward before he could think.
The world slowed.
His ribbon tore in the wind.
Hair flowed freely—silver fire in motion. His eyes sharpened, soft light replaced by cold brilliance. The ground trembled beneath his feet.
Mana flared—so pure it sang.
Even the S-ranked hunters paused, just for a breath, to look.
Lunaria lifted his sword.
"…You shouldn't have looked at me."
He vanished.
The demon screamed—once—before its body split cleanly in half, light devouring the sound.
When silence returned, Lunaria stood in the ashes, ribbon fluttering to the ground.
Ash stared. "…You weren't supposed to fight."
Lunaria exhaled softly. "I didn't."
And though the danger had passed, the air still hummed—with awe, with fear, and with the undeniable truth that the world had just seen something it was not ready to understand.
The morning had broken twice—once with sunlight, and once with revelation.