Half a month passed after the announcement.
Celes City changes.
It does not grow louder all at once. It swells, hour by hour, street by street, until the city can no longer contain the weight of what gathers inside it.
By the third morning, the roads leading into Celes are no longer roads.
They are rivers of people.
Adventurers arrive in endless waves, banners tied to packs, weapons slung openly over shoulders. Cloaks mark guilds. Emblems flash—iron, silver, gold, adamantine, diamond. Camps spread beyond the outer walls, tents packed so tightly that smoke rises like a second skyline.
Nearly three hundred thousand adventurers answer the call.
Inside the city proper, noble banners dominate the eastern districts. Two hundred thousand soldiers assemble under different colors—Marquises, Counts, Dukes—all flying their pride side by side. Armor gleams in disciplined ranks. Spearheads align with mechanical precision. War beasts stamp and snort, reins held tight by sweating handlers.
