The Shadow Realm pulsed quietly, no longer a battlefield but a sanctuary. The war was over. The void entity had been vanquished. And for the first time in weeks, the Citadel gates opened not to war—but to rest.
Minwoo stepped through the obsidian archway, the Nexus Blade now sealed in its sheath across his back. His armor flickered, shadows peeling away like mist. The weight of the Realm still lingered in his bones, but his expression was calm.
Inside, Shadow Fang had already begun to unwind.
Kinro lounged near the central flame pit, roasting skewers of voidbeast meat with his silver fire. "You know," he said, flipping a chunk, "for a cosmic horror, that thing tasted surprisingly tender."
Kuzuki rolled his eyes. "You say that about everything. Last week you tried to eat a cursed mirror."
Minwoo chuckled softly, settling into his seat at the high table. The Citadel's interior had shifted—walls now pulsed with living shadow, attuned to his will. It felt… alive. Like the Realm itself was watching, listening, resting with them.
A soft knock echoed from the side chamber. It was Lira, the guild's strategist, carrying a stack of scrolls and a steaming cup of shadowleaf tea.
Minwoo nodded. "I'm not a god."
The room fell into a comfortable silence. No alarms. No screams. Just the hum of the Realm and the quiet laughter of warriors who had survived the impossible.
Kinro raised a toast. "To Shadow Fang. To victory. And to Minwoo—our Realmwalker."
Everyone raised their cups.
Minwoo didn't speak. He just smiled, eyes glowing faintly, and let the moment linger.
Outside, the shadows curled gently around the Citadel, no longer weapons—but guardians.