Night fell, but the seaside city of Sena didn't sleep.
If anything, it woke into a different kind of life as the lamps came on.
Windproof oil lamps spilled warm haloes along the streets; the slow sea breeze carried tavern chatter and the smell of fish on the grill. Sailors, arms over shoulders, bellowed out-of-tune shanties; adventurers clustered to trade stories and brag.
The four of them wandered a few blocks and finally picked a bustling tavern called The Siren's Song.
"Kind of a questionable name for a tavern…" Gauss muttered, eyeing the sign.
This world had the same tales of sirens luring sailors onto the rocks. Unlike his previous life, those weren't airy myths; they were blood-and-tears lessons from the sea. Not that the captains, mates, and sailors inside seemed to mind—there were plenty of them at the tables. If the seafolk didn't care, land-running adventurers cared even less.
They'd be in Sena a short while—scouting local monster spawns and job boards—but Gauss wasn't planning to go to sea just yet. Sure, it would feel like a waste to reach the coast and not explore the ocean at all… but going to sea needed planning.
Outside of Serandur, none of them—including Gauss—knew a thing about sailing. Even if you set aside experience, they lacked the right gear and crew. They could hitch a ride on someone else's ship to a special reef or island, but that left them at someone else's mercy. And the ocean isn't the land—too many variables. Out on the open water, a shady captain or a sudden storm can make things far worse than any road ambush.
Inside, a quick ask turned up a few private rooms. Since they had real business to discuss, Gauss skipped the chaotic common room this time.
Once the door closed, most of the din outside dropped away. A server in an apron came in with menus. "What can I get you, honored adventurers? Our seafood at the Siren's Song is the freshest in Sena—half the boats unload right here!"
He spoke with that particular pride of a port-town local—and from his tone he'd pegged them as newly arrived.
The menu was packed—and unlike inland taverns, it was heavy on the sea: fish platters, the signature chowder "Neptune's Kiss," garlic-butter roasted giant claw-shrimp, fried thunderfish, seaweed salad, laver bread…
New place, new dishes—it'd be a shame not to try them.
"Take a look—what do you want?" Gauss passed the menu around.
With their current strength, the team had long since achieved "meat freedom," so order anxiety wasn't a problem. They picked a tableful, plus a pot of coconut water and a jug of briny mint water.
Silence fell for a moment.
Gauss had noticed since they met up that evening: Shadow had opened her mouth a few times as if to speak, then let it go.
"Ahem." He cleared his throat. "We wrapped the Blackfang job cleanly. Shadow—do you have plans from here?"
He looked her way. Alia and Serandur blinked—right. With the commission over, the temp teammate would likely part ways. Alia glanced at Shadow.
In these days together, Shadow's cool face had hidden a decent person. On the night of the goblin raid, while Gauss held off the elites head-on, Shadow and Serandur had taken the wolf riders—and the bat rider circling overhead.
More than once, when the Bat Rider couldn't get to Shadow, it set its sights on her. If not for Shadow's power, Alia might have died several times. Before the danger even landed, Shadow had already yanked them out—watching every teammate while fighting.
After that night, Alia knew: beneath the chilly surface, Shadow was someone you could rely on. When they thanked her later, she brushed it off as nothing and claimed no credit.
If… she stayed, wouldn't that be a huge boon to the team? Especially for Gauss. The party composition meant Alia handled control and buffs, Serandur healed and blessed, and Gauss—frontline blade—took most of the incoming heat. If Shadow watched the sky and the angles, then when something truly ugly came, she could yank him out in an instant. That would let her breathe easier too.
Thinking of a private chat with Gauss the other day, Alia suddenly realized what tonight's "celebration" was really for.
Serandur, meanwhile, calmly sipped coconut water, forked tongue tapping the surface, a look of content nostalgia on his face—unbothered by the captain's machinations, or fully trusting them.
Across the table, Shadow heard Gauss's question. Her plans… She shook her head.
"Then—" Gauss began, but Shadow—after a heartbeat's hesitation—spoke at the same time.
"You first."
"You go."
They looked at each other, both deferring. Meeting Shadow's slick black gaze, Gauss caved first.
"Alright, I'll go." He wet his lips. He'd sounded out Alia and Serandur about Shadow—but not Shadow herself. He honestly had no idea how she felt. But relationships don't move if no one takes a step.
He met her eyes, voice steady. "Shadow, this commission proved to all of us how capable—and dependable—you are. If you're willing, I want to formally invite you to become the fourth full member of our team."
Shadow's eyes widened instinctively.
Gauss paused, thinking she needed to digest it, then continued, choosing his words. "I know you're used to being on your own. But please think about it. We may not be the strongest party inviting you—but we will be the most trustworthy."
He glanced at Alia and Serandur. Alia nodded hard; Serandur dipped his head.
"Of course, it's only an invitation. Whatever you decide, we'll respe—"
"I'm willing to join," Shadow said suddenly.
"Eh?" Gauss blinked. He'd been about to say there was no rush—that she could sleep on it and tell him in a day or two. Being cautious about joining a just-met team made sense. He hadn't expected an answer now.
"Don't you want to think it over?" he asked, well-meaning.
Alia had just raised her hands to clap. Hearing that, she shot him a look—Captain, what are you doing? You want her on the team—don't talk her into cooling off. Ever heard of don't drag it out?
Shadow shook her head decisively. "No need to waste time. I like being alone, but… being with you doesn't feel bad. And I came here tonight to ask you the same thing." A faint smile touched her lips. "Thank you for letting me join."
She'd spent two days debating how to ask Gauss—and fretting, uncharacteristically. She hadn't expected him to invite her first.
"That's great!" Alia clapped for real now. She'd been fretting they'd lose a great hand—only to find it was mutual all along. Serandur nodded calmly. This was only natural. Who turns down a captain's invite?
Gauss finally let out a long breath—the weight sliding off his chest. "Welcome aboard, Shadow."
Since she'd thought it through—and it wasn't impulse—he could relax. He grinned. A powerful, mysterious teammate—what captain wouldn't be pleased? He couldn't help a little pride, too. He remembered the first day he came to this world—wood spear and small shield alone, stepping into the forest, excitement and dread braided tight. Back then the loneliness of "no one at your back" forced him to hype himself up just to face the next fight.
And now…
He looked at the friends smiling back at him. He had teammates he could trust absolutely—family, in a way. And the team was still growing—welcoming someone like Shadow. That lonely road was gone.
He drew a breath and steadied himself. "Then—to the new Team Gauss—cheers."
"Cheers!" Alia whooped, raising her cup. Serandur lifted his with a gentle smile. Shadow, seeing their welcome, slowly raised hers.
Glasses chimed. The celebration-slash-welcome dinner officially began.
…
"Ahhh—good weather," Gauss stretched.
Sea wind teased the curtains; beyond the window, sky and water burned the same deep blue. With Shadow officially on the team—three to four—his mood had stayed high from last night to now.
Shame there was business to attend to; otherwise he'd have slept in to burn off the last of the road-weariness.
Downstairs, Shadow was already waiting in the lobby. "Morning, Shadow."
"Good morning."
"Server, breakfast for five, and heavy on the meat."
[Good morning, Captain Gauss.]
Where no one else could see, her shadow stirred and greeted him.
[Why didn't you let me out yesterday to advise you? That little stiff tongue of yours can sell it? Good thing Gauss wanted you anyway—or else… You need to lean on me more.]
Shayde's nagging bristled with grievance over being "sealed away."
[All your ideas are terrible,] Shadow thought back.
Just thinking of Shayde's "plans"—honeyed seduction, bold declarations, pandering—made her mouth twitch.
[You've really grown up cheeky. You used to be so good. I raised you from nothing—remember that,] Shayde scolded like an old auntie.
This time Shadow didn't argue—she muted the nagging instead. For all the iffy advice, Shayde meant well.
They ate quickly and headed for the guild. Shadow needed to finalize her rewards; she'd delayed because she didn't know if Gauss would take her in. If he'd refused and she'd been forced back to solo life, her choices would've been different.
Gauss was on his way for one-on-one training with Adèle. She'd said she'd be around "these few days," but as an adventurer he knew better than to assume: things come up; people leave. With nothing else set in Sena, better to strike while the iron's hot—and level up his swordplay. He'd also bump his adventurer badge if he could.
They told the receptionist, and Adèle arrived promptly—with a colleague carrying the reward catalog. Shadow's paperwork went with staff; Adèle briefed them, then motioned Gauss to follow.
They took a side stair to Third Floor. The stair guards knew her well; with Adèle leading, Gauss crossed into the floor reserved for Black Iron ranks without a hitch.
He peered around—then, despite himself, looked a touch disappointed. It didn't look much different from Second Floor: an open hall ringed with a few shops and lots of shut doors; beyond staff, almost no one in sight.
"Not what you pictured?" Adèle glanced back.
"A bit," Gauss nodded. "Is it always this quiet?"
He'd half-hoped to watch some big-city Black Irons at work.
"More or less," Adèle said. "Black Irons are busy—either honing their craft or out on jobs. Even if they come by, they hole up in rooms; unless there's something special, you won't see crowds of Black Irons milling in the hall."
Fair enough. By Black Iron, most had chosen their road: loners stayed lone; teams stayed with their teams; no reason to mingle.
"Come on, Gauss."
Noticing curious looks from staff, Adèle waved him along. She opened a door and stepped through; Gauss followed. The door sealed behind him—automatically—and he stopped short.
"W—whoa. Big."
The room was… huge. Hundreds of square meters—impossible, given the footprint he'd mapped from Levels One and Two, and this room's location along the Third Floor rim. Cognitive dissonance hit like a hammer.
"Sharp senses," Adèle said, pleased at how quickly he caught it. She slipped off her shoes and walked to the center—polished wood floors, practice dummies, weapon racks.
"This isn't a normal room. It's a special training chamber maintained by spatial folding and stabilizing wards." She smiled. "Think of it as a propped-open space bubble. From the outside, a normal door; inside, expanded by stable space magic. Your teammate redeemed a living bag yesterday, yes? Same principle—much more complex and robust."
She added, "Black Iron fights get messy—too destructive for ordinary arenas, and upkeep would bankrupt us. In here you can cut loose without fear of damaging guild property—well, unless you can rip the ward itself."
Gauss nodded, taking it all in. No wonder the third floor seemed so empty—the real "action areas" hid behind unmarked doors.
"Enough chatter," Adèle said, focus sharpening. She brushed the nearest dummies and racks aside; a flick at her wrist sent a flash down her hand—and a slim woman's rapier leapt into her grip.
A moment later her presence surged—intense and controlled.
A Level 5 swordswoman? Gauss narrowed his eyes.
No—Master.
His brow ticked. Maybe the elderly director back in Lincrown had set the wrong expectation; he'd assumed even in a big city, a mostly administrative director wouldn't be that strong.
He'd underestimated the world.
Adèle read it in his face and smiled. "Welcome to Sena. Before we start on White Falcon Sword, I want to see what you've got. Use everything—spells, skills, sword—go all out. That's the only way I can tailor the training."
"You sure?" Gauss hesitated. "I might be stronger than you think."
She waved it off. "I know you hit Level 4—and though I don't know how you pulled it off, anyone who clears a job like that clearly isn't an ordinary Four." She tilted her head. "But have some faith in a Master. You won't hurt me. Relax."
She found his caution a touch funny, but explained patiently—that's the ease of a Master. And though he likely wasn't her equal yet, he was a guild seed—a focus for development—so she wasn't about to be dismissive.
"Then—be careful," Gauss said, and stowed everything extraneous in his bag. He shrugged on his robe. The white wand clicked into the thigh clip on his left leg, ready to draw—and lending its quiet bonuses just by riding close.
Adèle waited in the center and watched him prep. Was it her imagination—or had his presence been climbing since she'd said "begin"? Enough that she felt the slightest pressure.
A trick of the mind? Or some masked aura?
The thought had barely formed when his pressure spiked again. His emerald eyes flooded gold.
Power dropped into the room.
Energy scales shimmered into being—dragonlike—clinging tight across skin, climbing his throat to his jaw, almost onto his face before stopping.
And it didn't end there. He clenched his right hand and a razor-edged dragon claw of pure energy coalesced—sharp enough to gouge the air.
"D—dragon claw? And where's your wand?" Adèle's mouth twitched. "You call this a caster?!"
What kind of joke was this?
~~~
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