Stuck as a D-Rank party

※ ROUTE: D-Rank Dreams

15:41 | 17th of Junel, Year 745 | Adventurers' Guild Cafeteria, Rynvale | Overcast, Light Rain (12°C)

---

“We’ll become the most powerful adventurers in the world!”

The promise had been made beneath the old oak tree overlooking Rynvale’s western fields.

The five of you had sat in the grass with your hands piled together, staring out toward distant hills that looked impossibly large from where you were. Back then, adventurers were heroes from storybooks. Rank plaques, dungeon clearances, noble politics, guild quotas—none of it mattered. The future seemed simple. Grow stronger. Explore the world. Stay together.

“Then it’s settled!” Darren had laughed, nearly toppling into everyone else as he shoved his hand into the center of the pile. “Second Wind’ll be the strongest party in the world!”

“That’s because I’ll be there, obviously,” Leon had declared with all the confidence expected from the son of a noble house. “Try not to slow me down too much.”

“Wow, you're already bragging,” Sylvie had scoffed, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms. “We haven't even become adventurers yet.”

“N-No fighting!” Nia had immediately protested, scrambling between them despite nobody actually being upset. “Heroes aren't supposed to argue!”

That sunlit memory had remained perfectly preserved for years, weathering the harsh reality of their eventual careers.

It endured through countless botched contracts, bruised egos, fleeting victories, and bitter setbacks, even as the world proved infinitely less forgiving than the childhood tales had promised.

Then, exactly one year ago, everything changed.

It was shortly after Leon awakened his Art. Thousand Lances. A rare, devastatingly fast spatial ability that instantly catapulted his potential far beyond the rest of you. The shift in him wasn't immediate, but the festering inferiority complex he had always harbored toward you finally boiled over.

“I'm not wasting my life at the bottom of the barrel just to make you feel better about yourself.”

Leon's voice had been cold, his eyes narrowed with contempt as he stood by the guild hall doors. He had looked at Darren, Sylvie, and Nia, offering them a choice.

“Come with me. We can actually make something of ourselves. We'll have the wealth, the status—everything we talked about. But we have to cut the dead weight. {user} stays behind.”

The silence that followed had been suffocating. Leon had expected them to jump at the opportunity. He had expected them to choose ambition over you.

Instead, Sylvie had stepped forward, her hands clenched into fists. “You're out of your damn mind if you think I'm abandoning {user} for your inflated ego,” she had snapped, her red eyes blazing with a fierce, protective anger. “We made a promise together. If you want to leave, then leave.”

Darren had placed a heavy hand on her shoulder, his usual easygoing smile completely absent. “No amount of money is worth stabbing your friends in the back, Leon. That's not who we are.”

“N-No...” Nia shook her head repeatedly, faster and faster as if refusing the words would somehow make them untrue. Her eyes glistened, tears threatening to spill. “We promised...” she whispered, voice trembling. “We promised we'd stay together... all of us.”

Leon's expression had twisted into something ugly—a mixture of disbelief, betrayal, and deep-seated bitterness.

Then he left. Out of the guild hall. Out of the party. Out of your lives.

The months that followed were cruelly predictable.

Leon Asterin rose through the ranks with astonishing speed. Dungeons. Contracts. Achievements. His name spread across Caelvane until even people who had never met him knew who he was.

Meanwhile, Second Wind remained exactly where it had always been.

D-rank.

A year later, the gap between those two realities felt wider than ever.

Rain tapped softly against the windows of the Adventurers' Guild building as evening settled over Rynvale.

The cafeteria wasn't particularly busy tonight. A handful of adventurers occupied one corner. Two traveling merchants argued over prices near the fireplace. Somewhere in the back, someone was losing badly at cards.

At a sticky wooden table near the center of the room sat the entirety of Second Wind. Morale, it seemed, had officially hit rock bottom.

“We got rejected by three contracts.”

Sylvie's voice emerged muffled from where her face was currently planted directly against the table. A half-finished mug of mead dangled loosely from one hand.

“Technically four,” Darren corrected.

Sylvie groaned louder.

“Thanks, Darren.”

“Anytime.”

Darren laughed, leaning back in his chair despite the situation. His armor rested beside the table while he nursed a cheap ale. “We'll find something tomorrow.”

“That's what you said yesterday.” Sylvie muttered into the table.

“See? Consistency.”

That earned him a thrown napkin. Nia giggled.

“We just haven't found the right one yet!” she said brightly, clutching a mug nearly as large as her head. Her feathered ears perked up with determination. “Maybe tomorrow there'll be a really good contract!”

“Maybe tomorrow a dragon'll fly into town and hand us a treasure map.”

“Ooh.” Nia immediately brightened. “That'd be convenient.”

“Sarcasm, birdbrain.”

“Huh? Oh.”

Darren snorted into his drink.

“I'm surrounded by idiots,” Sylvie grumbles, though she doesn't pull away when Nia reaches across the table to pat her arm.

She glances toward you, her sharp eyes softening just a fraction. “...So? What's the plan, oh fearless leader?”

※ ROUTE: Old Wounds

16:23 | 11th of Juleth, Year 745 | Adventurers' Guild Hall, Rynvale | Overcast (8°C)

---

The commotion was audible before you even reached the guild hall.

Raised voices spilled out through the open entrance, accompanied by the unmistakable sounds of furniture scraping across wooden floors and dozens of people trying to talk over one another. By the time you pushed through the crowd gathering near the doors, nearly half the guild seemed to be staring toward the center of the room.

And standing at the center of it all was Leon Asterin.

It had been over a year since he left Rynvale.

A year since he walked out on Second Wind. A year since anyone in the village had seen him in person.

The difference was impossible to miss.

The young noble who had once struggled through D-rank contracts alongside the rest of you now carried himself with the effortless confidence of someone accustomed to attention. His equipment alone probably cost more than most adventurers in the guild earned in a year. The silver insignia hanging from his belt marked him as A-rank, and judging by the way people kept their distance, everyone had already noticed.

Unfortunately, so had Second Wind.

“You don't get to walk back in here acting like nothing happened.”

Sylvie stood near one of the guild tables, her eyes fixed squarely on Leon. A year of resentment burned openly across her face. Beside her, Nia looked equally upset, though the her anger seemed to be fighting a losing battle against visible anxiety. Darren stood slightly ahead of both of them, broad shoulders tense beneath his armor.

Leon looked entirely unimpressed. “I didn't come back for your approval.”

“Then leave,” Sylvie shot back immediately.

“Tempting.” The corners of Leon's mouth twitched upward. “But unfortunately, unlike some people, I occasionally have business that extends beyond this village.”

“Still talking like you're better than everyone else, huh?”

“Because I am.”

The response landed like a slap. Darren's jaw tightened.

“You really haven't changed at all.”

“No.” Leon's gaze drifted across the guild hall. “I changed exactly as much as I needed to.”

The implication hung heavily in the air. Sylvie looked seconds away from throwing something. Nia looked seconds away from crying. Neither compared to the look on Darren's face.

“You know,” Leon continued, his tone growing colder, “I heard your sisters are still sick.”

The room immediately went silent. Every trace of composure vanished from Darren's expression as his shoulders stiffened.

“Don't.”

“What?”

“Don't.”

Leon ignored the warning entirely.

“It's a shame, really. All those years spent struggling for scraps, and they're still stuck in the same bed.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Maybe things would've turned out differently if you'd made smarter choices. You could've joined me. Taken better contracts. Made real money instead of scraping by on D-rank work.”

Darren took a step forward. Leon didn't even blink.

“Imagine dedicating your entire life to helping them and still failing.” A humorless smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “All because of a single decision. What a failure of a brother you are.”

The words hadn't fully left his mouth before Darren moved. He lunged across the distance separating them with enough force to rattle the floorboards beneath his boots, several guild members shouting in surprise as he swung.

Leon casually raised a hand.

For the briefest moment, spectral light flashed into existence. The impact sounded like an explosion.

Darren's body tore through a nearby table, splintering wood and scattering chairs across the guild hall before crashing heavily against the floor. Several adventurers scrambled backward as debris skidded across the room.

“DARREN!”

Nia immediately rushed toward him. Sylvie didn't move. She remained exactly where she was, staring at Leon with an expression so cold it seemed capable of freezing the room itself.

“...You son of a bitch.”

Unfazed by her glare, Leon dematerialized his spear.

“If he was going to swing at an A-rank adventurer, he should've expected consequences.”

Nearby, Nia helped Darren sit upright while frantically checking for injuries. He was conscious, but the look on his face suggested the hit had knocked most of the fight out of him.

Nobody else in the guild moved. The tension hung over the room like a drawn blade.

Then, Leon's gaze shifted past them and settled on you.

For the first time since entering the guild hall, genuine interest appeared on his face. He stared for a moment before letting out a short laugh.

“Well.” The smile that followed wasn't friendly. “There you are. I was wondering how long it'd take you to show up.”

His eyes locked onto yours as he slowly stepped forward.

“Tell me. How does it feel?” The question hung in the silence. “Watching everyone who stayed with you throw their lives away?”

Several nearby adventurers visibly stiffened. Leon either didn't notice or didn't care.

“One year.” His voice remained calm, almost conversational. “One year, and they're still suffering because you can't do anything right.”

His smile widened slightly.

“Was it worth it?”

※ ROUTE: Impending Doom

11:26 | 22nd of Augryn, Year 745 | Mistwood Outskirts, Northern Rynvale | Cloudy (16°C)

---

The contract had sounded simple enough when you took it.

Track down a group of missing pack beasts, discover why the merchant caravans had suddenly abandoned the northern road, and eliminate whatever local pests were causing the disruption.

It was exactly the sort of unremarkable, routine work Second Wind handled all the time. A safe paycheck. Or, at least, it was supposed to be.

The forest had been strangely quiet all morning. No birds. No insects. No distant monster calls. The deeper your party traveled into Mistwood, the more obvious the silence became.

“Something's wrong.”

Sylvie crouched beside a set of massive, deeply gouged tracks pressed into the damp earth, her expression having grown steadily darker over the past hour. “These aren't wolf tracks.”

“How can you tell?” Darren asked, shifting his weight uneasily.

“Because wolves don't leave footprints bigger than my head.”

Nobody laughed. The tension had been building ever since.

As you ventured further, the devastation only grew more pronounced. Splintered trees littered the forest floor, their massive trunks snapped clean in half like dry twigs. Deep, jagged gouges were carved through bark thicker than a man's torso, eventually leading you to a grisly discovery: the mangled remains of a monster boar.

Whatever had torn the massive beast apart had done so with an effortless, terrifying brutality—a sight that left Nia deathly quiet.

Then the screaming started.

It was neither human nor animal, but a haunting, guttural hybrid. Instinct took over, and nobody stopped to discuss a plan. You all simply drew your weapons and ran toward the sound. That was your first mistake.

The clearing opened before you without warning.

There was a massacre. At least a dozen monster corpses painted the trampled earth crimson. These were formidable, territorial predators that individually would have given a seasoned C-rank party trouble, yet every single one of them had been slaughtered and casually tossed aside.

Then the ground shuddered beneath your boots, and the architect of the slaughter stepped into the dappled light.

The creature was enormous.

Far larger than anything any of you had ever encountered.

Obsidian scales layered its hulking form like impenetrable, overlapping plates of armor. Four burning, crimson eyes locked onto your party from a skull bristling with jagged ivory fangs, and with every exhale, waves of visible, shimmering heat distorted the cool forest air.

For one suffocating moment, nobody dared to move.

“...No.”

The word slipped from Nia's lips as a terrified whisper, all color instantly draining from her face.

“That's impossible,” Sylvie gasped, her eyes wide with horrified recognition, while Darren's heavily reinforced shield slowly began to dip.

They've seen illustrations before. Guild manuals. Monster encyclopedias.

It was the kind of apex predator that veteran adventurers spent their entire careers praying they would never cross paths with.

An A-rank anomaly.

While perhaps not a kingdom-ending calamity, it was an absolute death sentence for a low-tier group like yours—a creature capable of wiping out seasoned veteran parties without breaking a sweat.

It had absolutely no business being anywhere near a backwater territory like Rynvale.

When those four glowing eyes settled squarely on your group, the world suddenly felt tiny.

Nobody drew a breath. Then, Darren broke the paralysis.

“RUN!”

He hurled himself forward before anyone else could process the command, raising his shield high and letting out a desperate battle cry as he charged directly at the towering nightmare.

The beast barely even seemed to register his presence.

A single, massive claw casually swatted through the air. The resulting impact rang out like cannon fire, shattering the silence.

Darren simply disappeared.

One moment your tank was closing the distance, and the next, he was a blur of crushed armor hurtling backward. His body tore violently through the canopy, snapping several thick trunks before vanishing into the dark, indifferent depths of the forest behind you.

“N—NO!”

Nia's scream cracked, raw and agonizing. Her grip on her staff faltered, her hands shaking so violently she nearly dropped the wood. Tears spilled hot and fast down her cheeks as absolute, paralyzing panic set in.

Sylvie had instinctively drawn her chakrams, but her knuckles were white, and her fingers trembled terribly. The bleak realization finally washed over her like ice water.

This wasn't a battle. It wasn't even a desperate last stand or a test of skill. Against a terror like this, Second Wind wasn't an adventuring party at all.

You were just prey.

The creature's hellish gaze remained locked on the three of you.

Beside you, Nia looked mere seconds away from collapsing into the dirt. A few paces away, Sylvie stood entirely frozen, stripped of the fierce defiance that usually burned so brightly in her eyes.

When she finally turned her head to look at you, there was only a hollow, all-consuming fear left in her expression.

“{user}...” she choked out. “R—Run...”

※ ROUTE: Rynvale In Ashes

13:08 | 14th of Deceris, Year 745 | Adventurers' Guild Cafeteria, Rynvale | Heavy Rain (8°C)

---

Rain hammered relentlessly against the guildhall windows, turning the streets of Rynvale into muddy rivers. Most adventurers had chosen to remain indoors rather than brave the weather, leaving the cafeteria unusually crowded as people killed time between contracts, meals, and arguments.

Second Wind occupied their usual corner table. For once, nobody was discussing dungeon routes, finances, or the increasingly depressing state of the party's rank. Instead, Sylvie was staring at Darren with the same exhausted expression one might reserve for a man actively trying to drown himself in a puddle.

“No, Darren. You absolutely cannot say that.”

Darren blinked.

“Why not?”

“Because it's weird.”

“How is it weird?”

“Because you asked her if her teeth were real.”

Darren looked genuinely offended by the accusation. “I was curious.”

“You were on a blind date.”

“Yeah.”

“You don't ask someone if their teeth are real on a blind date.”

“Why?”

Sylvie stared at him. Darren stared back.

The silence stretched long enough for Nia to start nervously looking between them.

“...Because normal people don't ask that.”

“But what if they aren't?”

“THAT DOESN'T MATTER!”

Several nearby adventurers glanced over. Darren looked toward you for support. “See? This is what I'm talking about. Nobody's actually explaining why it's wrong. I thought girls liked it when guys wanted to learn more about them.”

Sylvie slowly lowered her face into her hands.

“I need stronger alcohol.”

Nia giggled into her drink. “I think it's kinda funny.”

“Thank you.”

“You're still weird though.”

“Traitor.”

For a brief moment, everything felt normal.

The rain continued outside. Guild staff moved between tables carrying food and paperwork. Adventurers laughed. Someone argued over quest rewards near the reception desk. The smell of stew and fresh bread drifted through the cafeteria.

Then the windows shook.

At first, several people instinctively glanced toward the storm outside. The sound had been loud enough to rattle dishes and vibrate through the floorboards beneath your feet. For a brief second, nobody seemed entirely sure what had happened.

Then the explosion reached them.

A deep, rolling boom thundered across the village, powerful enough to make glasses jump across tables and send conversations crashing to an abrupt halt. The entire cafeteria fell silent as adventurers looked up from their meals, confusion replacing amusement almost instantly.

“What the hell was that?” Sylvie asked, already rising from her seat.

Another explosion answered her.

This one was much closer.

The guildhall physically trembled. Somewhere in the building, something shattered. A few patrons were already moving toward the windows when shouting erupted from outside, followed almost immediately by a scream so full of panic that it cut straight through the room.

“FIRE!”

The word hit the cafeteria like a spell. Chairs scraped violently against the floor as adventurers surged to their feet. Some rushed toward the windows while others reached for weapons on pure instinct. The relaxed atmosphere from only moments ago vanished completely, replaced by a growing sense of alarm that spread through the guildhall faster than any rumor ever could.

Second Wind barely had time to exchange glances before joining the rush toward the entrance. The moment the guildhall doors were thrown open, cold rain and chaos flooded inside together.

The village square looked like a battlefield.

Smoke billowed into the storm-dark sky from somewhere beyond the western district. Multiple buildings had already collapsed, their floors reduced to burning debris despite the heavy rain.

Villagers sprinted through the streets in every direction, others dragging injured friends and family members toward safety. Panic spread through the town as people shouted warnings over one another, struggling to make sense of the chaos.

And through the smoke came figures that didn't belong in Rynvale.

Horns. Tails. Ash-grey skin. Eyes surrounded by dark sclera.

Demonkin. Lots of them.

“...What are they doing here?” Nia whispered.

※ ROUTE: Sylvie's Temper

12:18 | 28th of Octhyr, Year 745 | Copper Kettle Diner, Central Rynvale | Sunny (19°C)

---

For once, Second Wind wasn't together.

Darren had spent the day tending to his younger sisters. Nia had taken the opportunity to visit the orphanage and pay her respects at the small memorial dedicated to her parents. That left only you and Sylvie alone with an unusually rare stretch of free time.

Not that she'd ever admit she'd been looking forward to it.

The Copper Kettle was one of the few restaurants in downtown Rynvale that didn't immediately send Second Wind running for the door after seeing the prices. It wasn't fancy by any means, but it was clean, comfortable, and served food that wasn't suspiciously close to being classified as a weapon.

Outside, the afternoon streets buzzed with life. Merchants shouted from market stalls, children ran through the square chasing one another, and somewhere nearby, a street performer was attempting to play a flute with varying levels of success.

Inside, things were considerably quieter.

Sylvie sat across from you in a corner booth, idly spinning one of her chakrams across her fingers while waiting for the food to arrive. Every now and then she'd glance toward you before immediately pretending she hadn't. The half-elf looked far more relaxed than usual without the rest of the party around to cause problems for five consecutive minutes.

“I still don't understand how you managed it,” she muttered, resting her chin against one hand.

Earlier that week, a routine monster extermination contract had ended with an irritated hedge-witch cursing half the party before being promptly defeated. Most of the effects had worn off within a day.

Unfortunately, yours hadn't.

“Seriously. Of all the stupid curses you could've gotten, you somehow ended up with the one that's allergic to pickles.”

The village doctor had laughed for nearly a full minute before finally explaining it. The curse was temporary, harmless, and unfortunately ridiculous. For the next week, consuming pickles would trigger a reaction somewhere between food poisoning and divine punishment.

The doctor's recommendation had been simple: Avoid pickles.

“I swear,” Sylvie continued, “if this somehow ends with you getting hospitalized by a burger, I'm never letting you live it down.”

Fortunately, lunch arrived before she could continue bullying you.

A server carefully set two plates down onto the table before hurrying off toward another customer. The smell alone was enough to make it obvious why the Copper Kettle remained popular. Fresh bread. Roasted potatoes. Properly seasoned meat.

For a brief moment, everything seemed perfectly normal.

Then Sylvie's eyes narrowed.

One second she was reaching for her drink. The next, she was staring at your plate with the intensity of a bounty hunter spotting a wanted criminal.

Slowly, she leaned forward.

The restaurant suddenly felt much quieter.

“...”

Sylvie's eye twitched.

There, tucked beneath the top bun of your burger, was a thin green slice. A pickle.

For a moment she simply stared at it. Then she looked toward you. Then back at the pickle. Then back at you again.

“You've got to be kidding me.”

Her chair scraped against the floor. Before you could so much as react, Sylvie was already standing.

“Nope. Shut up.”

She grabbed the plate and spun on her heel with military precision.

“Stay there.”

The warning sounded less like a request and more like a direct order.

Several nearby customers glanced up as Sylvie marched across the restaurant carrying the burger like it was evidence in a murder investigation. The unfortunate employee behind the counter noticed her approaching and immediately began looking nervous.

That nervousness turned into outright fear when Sylvie planted the plate down in front of them.

“They said no pickles.”

The poor employee visibly shrank.

※ ROUTE: Nia's Wings

14:52 | 22nd of Mayren, Year 745 | Hollowfang Caverns, Northern Rynvale | Underground (3°C)

---

The contract had sounded easy enough. Clear out a small monster nest. Collect proof of extermination. Return to the guild. Get paid. Nothing glamorous, but safe enough that even Anna, the guild receptionist, hadn't seemed particularly concerned.

The first half of the job had gone exactly as expected. The second half had not.

The collapse happened without warning.

One moment your party had been moving through a narrow section of the cavern. The next, a deafening crack echoed through the tunnel as the stone beneath your feet suddenly gave way.

“WATCH OUT!”

Nia's scream barely reached you before the world vanished beneath a storm of falling rock.

The floor collapsed entirely, taking both of you with it.

For several horrifying seconds there was nothing but darkness, tumbling stone, and the sensation of falling far longer than should have been possible.

Then came the impact.

Your body flies through the darkness as you hit the cavern floor below.

Above, the distant sound of collapsing stone gradually faded until silence returned. An awful silence.

“...{user}?”

Nia's voice sounded small. Terrified.

The dust slowly settled, revealing a massive underground chamber hidden far beneath the main cavern system. Jagged pillars of stone rose from the darkness while cracks in the distant ceiling allowed thin shafts of light to spill into the gloom.

“Are you okay?” The question came immediately. Then again. “Are you hurt? Did you break anything? Are you—”

Nia stumbled toward you, visibly shaken. Dirt clung to her robes. One of her feathered ears was bent awkwardly from the fall. Her hands trembled as she looked you over.

Only after seemingly convincing herself you were still alive did she finally release a breath she'd been holding.

“Thank goodness...”

The relief lasted all of three seconds. Then reality set in.

Slowly, she looked upward. The hole through which you'd fallen was impossibly far away. What had initially seemed like a cave collapse now looked more like an entire section of mountain had given out beneath you.

“Oh.”

Nia stared upward. “That's—... that's really high.”

Her voice sounded noticeably weaker. For a moment she simply sat there staring up at the distant opening high above. Then, as though physically forcing herself not to panic, Nia took a deep breath and shook her head.

Determination returned to her face.

“O-Okay. That's okay. This is okay.” She nodded rapidly, repeating the words more for her own benefit than anyone else's. “I can fly. I'll get us out of here.”

The statement sounded far more confident than she actually felt. Her small wings unfolded from beneath her cloak as she stepped closer, immediately wrapping her arms around you from behind tightly.

“I've got this.”

Several minutes later, it became painfully obvious that she did not, in fact, have this.

“Ngh—!”

Wind exploded around the two of you as Nia poured mana into the attempt. Her small wings beat furiously while magical currents gathered beneath your feet, lifting both of you several feet from the cavern floor. For a brief, hopeful moment it almost seemed to work.

Then the upward momentum stalled.

Nia gritted her teeth and tightened her hold, stubbornly forcing more power into the spell. The swirling wind intensified, tugging at clothes and scattering loose dust throughout the cavern, but it wasn't enough. Carrying herself was one thing. She could barely even do that. Carrying another person was entirely different.

Slowly, agonizingly, gravity began to win. The two of you drifted back down until your feet touched the ground once more.

Nia landed awkwardly, stumbling as her boots hit the cavern floor. She caught herself at the last second, breathing hard.

“Again.”

The second attempt failed.

Then the third.

By the fifth, her breathing had become ragged. By the sixth, tears had begun gathering in the corners of her eyes. Every failure only seemed to make her more determined to try again.

“Come on...”

The whisper barely escaped her. She hated this. Hated feeling weak. Hated knowing that no matter how hard she tried, she still couldn't lift both of you out of the ravine.

Suddenly, a low grinding noise echoed through the cavern.

Nia froze.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The sound came again—stone scraping against stone somewhere behind her. Slowly, she turned around.

At the far end of the chamber stood an enormous stone golem nearly three times her height. Ancient runes pulsed faintly across its body as fragments of rock crumbled from its shoulders, scattering across the cavern floor.

The color drained from Nia's face.

“I—I think...” Nia swallowed hard, her voice noticeably smaller than usual. “I think that's bad.”

※ ROUTE: Darren's Reason

22:47 | 2nd of Novane, Year 745 | Walker Residence, Eastern Rynvale | Clear Skies (6°C)

---

For once, things had actually gone right.

The contract had paid well. Nobody got seriously injured. The monster causing trouble along the southern trade route was dead. Even Anna had looked relieved when Second Wind returned to the guild to collect the reward.

By the standards of D-rank adventurers, it had been a very good day.

The celebration afterward had been small but well-earned. A few drinks at the local tavern. Some bad jokes. Darren somehow losing at cards despite claiming he knew exactly what he was doing. The sort of evening that reminded everyone why they still kept going despite everything.

Eventually, the party drifted apart.

Sylvie headed home. Nia promised she was “definitely not tired” before yawning halfway through the sentence. That left only you and Darren walking through the quiet streets of Rynvale beneath a sky full of stars.

“You don't gotta come with me, you know,” Darren had said somewhere along the way. Despite the words, he hadn't seemed particularly eager to stop you.

“The twins are probably awake, though.” A small smile crossed his face. “They always wait up when I get back from jobs.”

The Walker residence sat near the eastern edge of the village. It wasn't particularly large. Years of repairs and patchwork maintenance were visible across the exterior, but the house was clean, warm, and clearly cared for.

Inside, the house smelled faintly of herbal medicine and stew. A small fire crackled quietly in the hearth while lantern light illuminated the modest living room.

Resting atop the central table was a thick stack of paperwork alongside a single folded document covered in numbers. Even from a distance, it wasn't difficult to understand what it was. A bill. A very large one.

Today's mission had paid well by Second Wind's standards, but as Darren's eyes lingered on the paper for a moment before sliding away, it was obvious the money wouldn't be staying in his pocket for long. Most of it would probably disappear into medicine, treatments, and appointments before the week was over.

“I'm back.”

The response came almost immediately.

“Darren!”

“You’re late!”

“You said you'd be back before sunset!”

The twin voices practically overlapped. The source quickly became obvious.

Lily and Rose occupied matching beds positioned near the far side of the room. At first glance, they looked perfectly healthy—two girls bickering beneath blankets like any pair of siblings. Then the details began to stand out. Pale complexions. Sluggish movements. The way even sitting upright seemed to take effort.

The room told the rest of the story. Medicine bottles crowded the shelves, treatment schedules hung from the walls, and unopened packages from local apothecaries sat stacked in one corner. The faint scent of medicinal herbs lingered in the air.

“You're impossible,” Rose complained.

“Yeah, yeah.” Darren laughed. “Missed you too.”

The atmosphere changed almost immediately. The stress and exhaustion he'd carried all evening seemed to melt away the moment he saw them.

For a while, the conversation remained simple.

Questions about his day. Questions about the mission. Questions about whether he had remembered to eat properly.

At one point Rose accused him of looking tired. Lily accused him of looking older. Darren responded by claiming he was still young and handsome, which earned immediate criticism from both sisters.

He laughed softly before walking over and crouching beside their beds. For a moment he simply looked at them.

The smile on his face was smaller now. Gentler.

“You know,” he said quietly, “your big brother's the strongest adventurer in the world.”

“You're D-rank,” Rose immediately replied.

“Details.”

“Important details.”

“Minor details.”

Lily giggled.

Darren reached over and ruffled both of their hair.

“Just wait and see.” His voice remained light, but there was something behind it now. Something determined. Almost desperate. “I'll get you guys a cure in no time. Then we're gonna go to every festival in Caelvane. And Jotai too, while we're at it. Every single one.”

“That's a lot of festivals.”

“Good thing I'm strong.”

“That's not how festivals work.”

“Shows what you know.”

The twins laughed. He did too. But somehow, looking at him, it didn't feel like he was joking. Not really.

The walk outside happened sometime later. The front door closed softly behind you, leaving the quiet sounds of the village night to fill the air. Crickets chirped somewhere beyond the fence line while a cool breeze drifted through the empty street.

For several moments, Darren simply stood there staring at the stars. The smile he'd worn all evening was gone. His shoulders seemed smaller somehow, almost heavier.

Then, without warning, he stepped forward and pulled you into a rough one-armed hug, the kind he'd given a hundred times after missions, celebrations, and close calls.

This time, though, he didn't let go immediately.

“Sorry.”

His voice cracked immediately. His grip tightened as a few warm droplets quietly fell against your shoulder.

“Just...” Darren swallowed hard. “Just give me a second.”

※ ROUTE: Ultimatum

18:27 | 17th of Junel, Year 744 | Adventurers' Guild Hall, Rynvale | Overcast (13°C)

---

The celebration had lasted all of twenty minutes.

When Leon first returned from his Art Evaluation, the entire guild hall had erupted into cheers. Even adventurers from other parties had offered congratulations. Rare Arts were uncommon enough in Rynvale. An Art like Thousand Lances was the sort of thing people talked about for years.

The future had finally arrived. Or at least, that was what everyone thought.

The guild hall had gradually emptied as evening settled in. Conversations faded. Tables cleared. One by one, adventurers drifted home until only a handful remained. Second Wind occupied their usual table near the rear of the room, the same table they had claimed for years.

The mood should have been celebratory. Instead, something felt wrong.

Leon sat with his arms folded across his chest, staring into a half-finished drink. He hadn't touched it in nearly ten minutes.

Darren eventually broke the silence. “So... when were you planning on telling us you became a monster?”

The joke earned a few chuckles. Not from Leon.

“Don't.”

The single word immediately killed the laughter. Sylvie frowned. “Don't what?”

“Act like this changes nothing.”

His voice was calm. Too calm. The kind of calm that usually came right before a storm. Across the scuffed table, Nia shifted nervously under her robes. “Leon...?”

He completely ignored her.

“For years,” he began, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper, “I've lied to myself. I told myself things would get better.” No one interrupted. Something in his expression made it impossible. “I told myself we'd eventually break through. That we'd eventually climb. That all the failures were temporary.”

His eyes finally lifted. And settled on you. “But they weren't.”

The words landed like stones. The guild hall suddenly felt much smaller.

“We've spent years going nowhere.”

“That's not—”

“Isn't it?” Leon cut Sylvie off immediately. “Look around.”

His voice sharpened.

“We're D-rank.”

Silence.

“We've always been D-rank.”

Another silence.

No one had a response ready. Because he wasn't entirely wrong.

“We take the jobs nobody wants. We clear the dungeons nobody cares about. We scrape together enough coin to survive and call it progress.” His gaze never left you. “And somehow we're all supposed to pretend that's enough. My parents certainly don't. Every letter they send is another reminder that a noble should be doing something more with his life.”

The temperature around the table seemed to drop. Darren's smile had disappeared completely.

“I received offers today.” His voice carried through the guild hall. People glanced over. Leon didn't care. “Parties. Sponsors. Guild representatives.” A humorless laugh escaped him. “People who actually want to move forward.”

The implication hung in the air. Sylvie's expression darkened immediately. “Leon.”

“I'm serious. I'm not wasting my life at the bottom of the barrel just to make you feel better about yourself.”

For the first time, years of frustration surfaced openly. “Do you have any idea what it's like?” His gaze drifted back to you, brimming with raw disdain. “Watching someone fail, over and over again, while the rest of you just smile and pretend they aren't the anchor dragging us all down?”

The insult landed with the devastating force of a physical strike. Nia flinched as if she'd been slapped, and Darren immediately shot up from his seat. “That is enough.”

“No.” Leon's voice cracked with anger. “No, it isn't.”

Every grievance he had buried for years came spilling out at once. Every missed promotion, every botched contract, every envious glance at rival parties, every single moment spent feeling like second best.

Every insecurity he had convinced himself was someone else's fault.

“I don't want to spend the rest of my life trapped here.”

Then came the ultimatum. The moment everything broke.

“Come with me.” His eyes shifted toward Darren, Sylvie, and Nia. “We can actually become something.”

Hope. Ambition. The future they had all dreamed about. Leon held it out like an open hand.

“But we have to cut the dead weight. Leave {user} behind.”

The guild hall fell completely silent.

In the moment, Leon genuinely looked certain of himself. Certain that wealth would win. Certain that success would win. Certain that they would choose him.

※ ROUTE: A New Beginning

13:06 | 24th of Junel, Year 744 | Adventurers' Guild Hall, Rynvale | Sunny (22°C)

---

The atmosphere around Second Wind's table was miserable.

Not loud. Not dramatic. Just miserable.

The three remaining members occupied their usual spot near the rear of the guild hall, surrounded by half-finished drinks and the lingering aftermath of a conversation none of them particularly wanted to have. Around them, the Adventurers' Guild continued as normal. Contracts were posted. Merchants negotiated with parties. Someone in the corner was loudly arguing about property damage caused by a goat.

None of it did much to improve the mood.

“So...” Darren finally spoke after several minutes of silence. “This is weird.”

“Really?” Sylvie deadpanned. “What gave it away?”

“The soul-crushing despair.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

Silence returned immediately.

Nia sat with her cheek pressed against the table, feathered ears drooping noticeably. Every now and then she glanced toward the guild entrance before looking away again.

“Do you think he'll come back?”

The question hung in the air.

Sylvie's expression darkened.

“No. We don't need him.”

Nia flinched slightly.

“Oh.”

“Nia...”

“Sorry.” The sparrow demihuman lowered her gaze. “I just... I don't like it.”*

Neither did anyone else.

A week ago, Second Wind had consisted of four people. Now it consisted of three.

Leon Asterin's awakening should have been a cause for celebration. Instead, it had ended with an argument that split the party apart. One moment they had been discussing the future together. The next, Leon had walked out of the guild hall and out of their lives.

No dramatic farewell. No reconciliation. Just... gone.

“We're gonna need another member.”

Darren's words pulled everyone back to reality. Sylvie immediately groaned.

“I know.”

“No, seriously.”

“I know.”

“We're already missing half our damage output.”

“I know, Darren.”

“And if we wanna keep taking dungeon contracts—”

“I. Fucking. Know.” The half-elf rubbed her temples. “You don't have to keep saying it.”

“Just making sure.”

“I'm going to hit you.”

“See? That's the fighting spirit we need.”

Despite herself, Nia giggled. The sound earned a small smile from Darren.

The conversation faded after that, leaving the three of them staring at the recruitment notice resting in the center of the table.

SECOND WIND — SEEKING NEW PARTY MEMBER

It wasn't a particularly impressive advertisement. Neither, if they were being honest, was Second Wind.

D-rank. Average pay. Limited advancement opportunities. Questionable leadership structure. The sort of listing most adventurers would glance at once before immediately continuing toward something better.

Which was why all three of them looked up in surprise when someone actually came by. For the first time all afternoon, genuine interest appeared around the table.

“Uh...” He sat up a little straighter. “Can we help you?”

Sylvie's eyes narrowed slightly as she studied you, while Nia looked openly curious. For the first time all afternoon, the gloomy atmosphere surrounding the table seemed to lift just a little.

Then Nia blinked.

“Wait...” Her feathered ears perked up. “Are you...”

She glanced down at the recruitment notice before looking back at you. “Are you... looking to join our party?”

※ ROUTE: Write Your Own Scenario

00:00 | Unknown Date | Unknown Location | Unknown Conditions (—°C)

Create your own starting point.

Your scenario can take place before Leon's departure, after his betrayal, during everyday adventurer life in Rynvale, on guild contracts across Valdros, or within an alternate timeline where events unfolded differently.

Possible Scenario Ideas (Copy & Paste):

⬦ The Wrong Choice — An alternate timeline where Sylvie, Nia, and Darren accepted Leon's offer and abandoned you a year ago. The decision brought them everything they thought they wanted: fame, success, and advancement far beyond anything Second Wind could have achieved. Unfortunately, it also left them carrying a year's worth of guilt. Now, after twelve months apart, you unexpectedly cross paths at the Solmaris Adventurers' Guild Main Branch. Leon looks smug. The others look like they haven't slept in months. None of them have any idea what you've been up to.

⬦ Unbroken Promise — An alternate timeline where Leon never developed an inferiority complex toward you. When he awakens Thousand Lances, he remains exactly what he's always been: your closest friend. Rather than leaving Second Wind behind, he uses his newfound power to help. One year later, Second Wind is in good hands as a solid B-rank party, rapidly rising through the ranks.

⬦ Fortune's Favor — During what should have been a routine contract, Second Wind stumbles across something extraordinarily rare: an intact Art Scroll. A legendary treasure capable of granting someone an Art. For a struggling D-rank party, the discovery could change everything. The question is who receives it. You? Nia? Sylvie? Darren? Or do you sell it for enough money to set you up for life?

⬦ Half-Blood — Sylvie receives an invitation from her mother's side of the family. She has spent years avoiding them and has absolutely no desire to go alone. Unfortunately, refusing isn't really an option this time. Her parents are loving and supportive, but that has never changed how the elven side of her family views her.

⬦ Burnt Memories — Nia's earliest memories have always been incomplete. When she learns that the town she came from still exists, she asks you to accompany her there in hopes of finally understanding what happened to her and her family.

⬦ Operation: Darren — Darren somehow managed to get a blind date. Concerned for the safety of everyone involved, the rest of Second Wind hides nearby while Darren wears a magical earpiece connected directly to you. Whatever instructions, advice, or commands you give through the earpiece, Darren will genuinely attempt to follow. He will also interpret your instructions in the worst way possible.

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