The return to Solmere was not a celebration.
It was a revelation.
The town they returned to was not the same town they had left.
Between Frostveil and Crystalshire, the portals pulsed with steady traffic. Merchants moved through in disciplined waves. Wagons rolled in organized lanes. Guards were posted. Ledgers were kept with professional precision.
Trade no longer drifted through Solmere.
It flowed.
The Darquebane Gate Network had done what decades of royal policy never had.
It made Solmere central.
And central towns do not stay poor.
A Town Rebuilt
The dirt roads were being paved.
Properly.
Stone laid with precision. Drainage carved beneath. Sidewalks emerging along main streets. Wooden scaffolding wrapped buildings mid-renovation. Market squares were expanding. Public bathhouses were under construction.
Workers bustled everywhere.
Signs hung in storefront windows:
"Proud Supporter of the Darquebane Restoration Fund."
Jax's clause had been simple.
Twenty percent ownership in exchange for infrastructure investment.
Every business that partnered with him contributed to a shared town fund.
Roads.
Schools.
Market expansions.
Public baths.
Training yards.
Security patrols.
Solmere was no longer surviving.
It was rising.
Expansion
Kaelor Fangmere made it official upon their return.
S Rank.
The promotion was quiet but absolute.
Clearing a dungeon that even the great Argent Vanguard failed to conquer left no political room for hesitation.
Jax and the Vixens were now officially ranked among the continent's elite.
And word spread. Even without fanfare, the town knew. The guild knew.
Legends were being built. No longer was the label of The Vixens a joke to be laughed at, during drunken nights at the guild.
Now, it was a badge of honor that others, especially females, aspired to be.
Little girls playing in the streets, would some day be pretending to be adventurers all calling themselves Vixens.
The bounty they collected on this mission was huge.
Grathok nearly wept when he saw the Frost Giant specimens.
Brannic and Merriweather nearly wept when they saw what could be forged from them.
Upgrades came swiftly.
Cold immunity layered seamlessly into their armor.
Weapon enchantments doubling damage against frost-aligned enemies.
Refined mana channels that reduced spell drain and stabilized spellcasting.
Their equipment was no longer simply rare.
It was approaching myth.
And Brannic and Merriweather stood taller each day, proud to have their craftsmanship tied to something historic.
The Eight-Month Surge
It didn't slow.
It accelerated.
New raids.
New gates.
New towns.
Sixteen cities connected through Solmere.
Sixteen.
Each one with Darquebane-backed inns, warehouses, restaurants, and trade hubs.
Jax never took more than twenty percent ownership.
But every contract carried one clause:
Infrastructure first.
Local prosperity mandatory.
Within eight months:
Roads were paved.
Schools funded.
Training academies established.
Market districts doubled in size.
Merchant guilds reorganized around gate routes.
Prosperity spread outward like ripples in water.
And people noticed.
Not just merchants.
Not just guilds.
Governments.
The Shadow Network
Jax never stopped preparing.
His new skill emerged quietly.
NEW SKILL UNLOCKED: SHADOW EXCHANGE
Instantly swap positions with any active shadow of Jax's.
It did not work with Nyxian's shadows.
That was fine.
It wasn't the important one.
That came from Shadow Deployment.
Silently.
Without announcement.
Jax began embedding B-Rank shadow guardians inside the shadows of those he cared about.
The Vixens.
Brannic and Merriweather.
Grathok.
Barb.
Eldrich.
Billy of Frostveil.
Kaelor of Solmere.
Gate supervisors.
Restaurant managers.
Transit coordinators.
They did not know.
The shadows did not report back.
They had one directive:
Emerge only in mortal danger.
Protect.
Nothing else.
Jax never told anyone.
He did not want gratitude.
He wanted insurance.
Months passed.
The guardians remained dormant.
Unseen.
Unused.
And that silence reassured him.
A Myth Forms
By winter's edge, Solmere was no longer considered a frontier town.
It was a capital in the making.
Some began whispering:
"The Vixens bring victory."
Others whispered:
"Darquebane brings prosperity."
A few — the observant ones — whispered something else.
"Power follows that man."
Jax ignored it.
He continued building.
The Call
It happened on what should have been an ordinary raid.
A mid-tier dungeon.
The Floor Boss was nearly defeated.
Zee's buffs pulsed through the team like a living heartbeat.
Llandra's arrows pinned the creature's limbs with surgical precision.
Nyxian's shadow summons overwhelmed the flanks.
Bunny hovered midair, hammer glowing.
Jax air-walked upward.
Requiem pistols holstered.
Peacemaker in hand.
He descended in a clean arc.
One strike.
The boss's head separated in a perfect cut.
The body fell.
System notifications began to cascade—
LEVEL UP.
LOOT ACQUIRED.
SKILL PROFICIENCY INCREASED.
And then something interrupted them.
A Tele-Stone.
Emergency frequency.
Only a handful of people possessed that stone.
It vibrated violently at Jax's belt.
Not once.
Not twice.
Continuously.
Jax caught it mid-fall.
The air in the dungeon shifted.
The Vixens felt it instantly.
His expression changed.
No smile.
No calm amusement.
Flat.
Focused.
He activated the stone.
Brannic's voice came through.
Strained.
Tight.
Not the voice of a man negotiating.
Not the voice of a craftsman excited about a new forge.
The voice of someone holding something back.
"Jax…"
There was noise in the background.
Metal.
Shouting.
Something heavy breaking.
"We've got a problem."