The road back to Vaelor felt different. It wasn't the landscape—still the same rolling green fields and gentle hills—but something within us had changed. The white dust we kicked up with our steps no longer carried the same desperation as before. Instead, there was a solemn weariness, the kind that comes after a storm you've survived, but not without scars.
Elara walked beside me, and our hands occasionally brushed. After the confession at the elven inn, a new, unspoken understanding lingered between us. It wasn't anything grand or dramatic, just… a comforting presence. She hadn't fainted once during the three-day journey, and her camp spells—a small fire spell to light the bonfire, a minor enchantment to purify water—lasted the precious five seconds she could now sustain. Her face would light up with a shy smile each time she succeeded, and my heart would give a small leap.
Vespera, in turn, seemed to have found a new balance. Her flirting was more restrained, less chaotic. She still shot arrows to scare off monster-rabbits and missed spectacularly, but now she laughed at herself instead of actively seeking trouble. "Old habits," she said with a shrug, watching her latest arrow vanish into the treetops. "But it's less fun when you're not trying to impress anyone." Her gaze lingered on me for a second, but without the intensity of before—just a quiet acknowledgment.
Liriel, of course, remained unchanged in her divine and complainy essence. "Walking? Walking? I am a goddess! I should be carried on a litter of clouds by celestial beings!" She had complained for the fifteenth time since we left Lytheria. Yet even her complaints seemed to lack conviction now. She drank less from her endless goblet, and I caught her more than once watching Elara and me with an expression that, in anyone else, I would have called… quiet satisfaction.
When the stone walls of Vaelor finally appeared on the horizon, bathed in the golden light of late afternoon, a wave of anxiety hit me. We were returning home, but "home" was a place of debts, gossip, and a ruined reputation. Melina's song about "the royal strippers" was probably already a hit in every tavern.
We entered through the main gates, greeted by the familiar smells of sweat, ale, and dust. A few passersby pointed and whispered. I heard the words "elves" and "fragments" murmured. The news had apparently preceded us.
Our first stop, inevitably, was the Adventurers' Guild. The hall was as crowded as usual, but an unusual silence fell as we entered. All conversations stopped. Eyes turned toward us, filled with curiosity and, to my surprise, a hint of… respect?
Garth, the grizzled veteran, was the first to approach. "So, the kids are back from the land of the pointy-ears," he said, his tone more restrained than mocking. "Heard the rumors. They say you put the elves in their place."
Before I could reply, the guild's clerk—a serious woman with brown hair who had always treated us with professional patience—came to the counter. "Takumi. Your presence is requested by the Guild Council. Immediately."
My stomach twisted. The Council only met for matters of great importance—or for disasters of catastrophic scale.
We were led into a stark meeting room, where three senior members of the guild waited around a massive oak table. Torin, the tavern owner, was among them, his arms crossed and his face a mask of disapproval.
"Takumi," began the council leader, a silver-haired elven woman named Lyra (not our Lyra, to my relief). "Reports from Lytheria have arrived. The Elven Crown acknowledges your… efforts… in containing a significant threat." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "However, they also report substantial debts, damage to royal property, and a pending favor owed."
Torin couldn't hold himself back any longer. "Debts!" he exploded, standing up. "They come back with more debts! And here I am, with my tavern still not fully repaired after their last 'job'!"
Lyra raised a hand, silencing him. "The situation is complex, Torin." She turned back to us. "The fact is, by interfering in elven affairs and, according to your reports, 'indirectly saving the kingdom from a magical catastrophe,' you have elevated your… status. The Guild cannot ignore this. Your ranking has been re-evaluated."
She unrolled a scroll. "Effective immediately, the group Endless Misfortune is promoted to Silver Rank."
The room went silent. Silver. Silver-ranked adventurers received high-risk missions with far greater rewards. And, more importantly, a significant advance payment.
"This advance," Lyra continued, as if reading my thoughts, "will be deducted from all future earnings. And it will be used to settle your outstanding debts with establishments in Vaelor, starting with Mr. Torin here."
Torin looked simultaneously satisfied and irritated. He was getting paid, but the source of the payment was our promotion.
"As for your debt to Lytheria," Lyra concluded, "that is between you and the Elven Crown. The Guild will not interfere. But know that from this day forward, your actions carry greater weight. For better or worse."
We left the room stunned. We were Silver-Rank adventurers. With a colossal debt to the elves and the reputation of accidental heroes.
Later, in Torin's tavern, we sat with our first mugs of ale paid for with our new status. The place was packed, and people were looking at us with a new kind of curiosity. Melina, the bard, instead of singing, came straight to our table.
"So," she said, her lute slung over her back. "Elven tales, a forbidden ritual, and a promotion. My next song is going to be… epic." She winked. "And maybe a little more respectful. Maybe."
When she left, Elara placed her hand over mine on the table. Her touch was warm and firm. "So," she whispered. "Silver Rank. What do we do now?"
Liriel took a sip of wine. "Now? Now, mortals, you finally realize you're trapped in this mess. And apparently, so am I." She didn't seem all that bothered by the idea.
Vespera raised her mug. "To new debts and old disasters!"
I looked at Elara, then at Vespera and Liriel. We were a disaster. We were a joke. We were accidental heroes and chronic debtors.
But we were a disaster together.
"First," I said, raising my mug to meet hers, "we pay Torin. Then…" I smiled, a strange feeling of anticipation rising inside me. "Then we see what missions Silver Rank has to offer."
The fear was still there, as were the debts and the constant reminder that a Demon King was still out there somewhere. But for the first time, looking at the group around me—the mage learning to stand tall, the succubus learning restraint, the goddess learning to care—I felt that maybe, just maybe, we could survive this. And who knows, maybe even finally get that hot bath I'd been chasing.