The guild hall smelled of ink, wood polish, and wet leather.
Sunlight filtered through high windows, catching dust motes in the air as the twelve heroes stood in a loose line before the reception counter. Behind it, an elderly clerk with half-moon spectacles adjusted a stack of parchment, his pen scratching steadily as he spoke.
"Marsh Howler suppression… confirmed," he muttered. "Seven adults eliminated. No nest expansion detected near the river villages."
He paused, finally looking up.
"…You lost no members."
The way he said it made it clear that this was unusual.
Haruto nodded. "Thanks to our healer."
The clerk's gaze flicked—just for a fraction of a second—to Ilyrien, who stood slightly behind the group. Her white scales reflected the hall's light softly, her four eyes calm, unreadable.
He said nothing about her.
Instead, he slid a small wooden tray forward.
"Standard I-rank rewards," he announced. "Coin allocation, materials, and contribution points."
Akira leaned forward, peering at the contents. "That's it?"
"You're alive," the clerk replied flatly. "That is the bonus."
A few of the heroes laughed awkwardly. Others didn't.
Outside, the city felt louder than before.
Street vendors called out prices, carts rattled over stone roads, and people stared—some openly, some with careful discretion. The heroes were becoming familiar faces now. Not legends. Not saviors.
Just… useful.
Naoki counted the coins again as they walked. "We barely covered repair costs."
"Armor replacement isn't cheap," Takumi said. "Especially after getting bitten."
Shun touched his side unconsciously. The memory of his ribs breaking still lingered, sharper than the pain itself.
"I shouldn't have rushed," he said quietly.
"No," Kenta replied. "You did what you thought was right."
Shun shook his head. "That's the problem."
No one argued.
They stopped at a small food stall near the guild plaza. The owner, a stout man with flour-dusted sleeves, gave them extra portions without being asked.
"Heroes eat more, right?" he said with a grin.
Yui smiled politely. Mio thanked him twice.
Ilyrien watched the exchange with mild curiosity.
"They give you more because they think you are strong," she said once they sat down.
"Is that strange?" Hana asked.
"In marsh culture," Ilyrien replied, "food is given to those who cannot hunt. Strength takes what it needs."
Emi tilted her head. "So… this is kindness?"
"Or investment," Ilyrien answered. "I am still observing."
That earned a few quiet chuckles, easing the tension just a little.
The next two days passed without missions.
Training resumed—lighter this time.
Spell practice focused on control rather than power. Weapon drills emphasized positioning and stamina. Shun was restricted to observation, something he clearly hated more than the injury.
At night, conversations grew softer.
Less excitement. More questions.
"Do you think we'll ever go back?" Souta asked one evening.
No one answered.
On the morning of the third day, a guild messenger arrived.
"Next assignment," she announced briskly. "H-rank."
The room went still.
"H… already?" Akira asked.
The messenger shrugged. "You've got a healer. That changes expectations."
Ilyrien looked away.
The mission board described it simply:
H-Rank Monster Elimination
Target: Stonehide Boar
Location: Forested foothills, north of Argen Vale
Threat: Aggressive, territorial, reinforced hide
Note: Multiple adventurer injuries reported
"Boars?" Takumi frowned. "That sounds—"
"—worse than it looks," Haruto finished. "Big. Fast. And stubborn."
Kenta smiled faintly. "At least it's not a pack."
Ilyrien spoke up then.
"Stonehide Boars are solitary," she said. "But they do not flee. When wounded, they charge until either the threat or themselves no longer moves."
Yui swallowed. "That's… comforting."
Preparations were quieter than usual.
Armor straps were checked twice. Spell books reviewed again and again. Even Akira was serious, restringing his bow with deliberate care.
As they left the city gates, Haruto glanced back once.
The walls stood tall. Safe.
Ahead lay trees, shadow, and something that did not care whether they were heroes or not.
He tightened his grip on his sword.
"Stay together," he said. "No glory. No risks."
Ilyrien walked beside them, silent, white scales faintly gleaming.
The road narrowed.
And with it, the margin for error.