Picks.

The guild hall was still a mess—scattered papers, hastily written notes, and half-finished recruitment lists piled on every surface.

For the first time in a while, Rael, Elias, Leon, and Gale sat together with no trials left to run.

"Fifty out of fifty," Rael said, leaning back. "Eclipse is at capacity."

"Feels weird," Leon murmured, stretching. "Like we actually run a guild now."

Elias scoffed. "You say that like we didn't just spend hours filtering through hundreds of people."

Gale smirked. "Could've been worse. At least we found some solid picks."

Rael tapped his fingers against the table. "Right. Let's go through them."

"I'll start," Elias said, arms crossed. "I picked Kazan."

"The berserker?" Rael asked.

Gale frowned. "That guy? I saw his trial results—half his team barely made it out."

Leon chuckled. "Yeah, I saw his health bar. Looked like he was on life support the whole time."

Elias leaned back in his chair, smirking. "You weren't there. Trust me, he was the best damn pick I could've made."

And he meant it.

The others had only seen the reports. They knew Kazan had survived, that his trial team cleared the dungeon, that they had scraped through by the skin of their teeth.

But they hadn't seen how Kazan fought.

Elias had.

He had been the invigilator for that group, watching from a higher vantage point while the recruits took on the Ancient Warden.

It was a brutal endurance boss—overwhelming pressure, relentless counterattacks, and an ironclad defense. Most recruits either played it safe or got crushed trying to push through.

Kazan?

He threw himself straight into the fire.

The first time the Warden landed a clean hit, it sent him skidding across the stone floor, blood smearing the ground.

Kazan pushed himself up. He wiped the blood from his mouth.

Then he laughed.

Not a nervous chuckle. Not the forced bravado of someone trying to hype themselves up.

A genuine, delighted laugh.

Then he charged right back in.

From that moment on, he fought like a man discovering something he loved. Every time the Warden struck him down, he got up faster. Every time he took a hit, his movements sharpened. He learned through pain—through feeling the attacks, adjusting, and throwing himself back in again.

It wasn't just reckless abandon. It was methodical masochism.

At one point, the Warden plunged its greatsword into the ground, sending a shockwave through the arena. The other recruits scrambled back.

Kazan ran forward.

Straight through the dust, straight toward the boss's blind spot, and buried his axe into its side with a grin.

By the time the fight ended, his armor was ruined, his health bar was a sliver away from empty, and the rest of his team looked like they had barely survived a war.

But Kazan?

He was still smiling.

When the dungeon instance closed and the recruits reappeared in the city, Kazan stretched his arms, flexed his fingers—then looked up at the sky and let out a long, satisfied breath.

Like he'd just had the time of his life.

Elias had marked his name down instantly.

Now, back in the guild hall, he smirked.

"He's a problem," Gale muttered.

"Yeah," Elias said. "But he's our problem now."

Gale shook his head. "You just like unhinged people."

"I like people who get the job done." Elias smirked.

Rael glanced at Leon. "What about you? Who'd you pick?"

Leon sighed dramatically, rubbing his temples. "I swear, I thought I was recruiting a mage, not a walking weather phenomenon."

"That Weathermancer girl?" Gale asked.

Leon nodded. "Yeah. Her name's Mira—and trust me, you won't forget her once you see her in action."

Leon hadn't expected much from the Weathermancer subclass. It was a niche specialization, usually focusing on battlefield conditions rather than direct combat. Most people played it safe, using minor weather effects to gain slight advantages.

Mira?

She commanded the sky.

Her trial team had been struggling against a pack of monsters—visibility was bad, terrain was slippery, and the fight was turning into a drawn-out mess.

Then Mira clapped her hands together, grinning. "Alright, time to fix this!"

Leon, watching from the invigilator's stand, had no idea what she meant.

Until the rain stopped.

Not gradually. Not naturally.

One second, the dungeon was drenched in torrential rain—muddy ground, waterlogged armor, reduced visibility.

The next second?

Clear skies.

The shift was instant. The clouds above simply parted, as if obeying her will. The wet ground hardened underfoot. Light poured through the open sky, illuminating every shadow.

Her team blinked in confusion.

Mira? She just spun her staff with a flourish. "Now you can see! Get moving!"

And that was just the start.

As the fight continued, she adjusted everything—wind speed, air density, even humidity. When archers needed a clear shot, she forced the air still. When melee fighters wanted to push forward, she sent a tailwind at their backs, speeding up their charge.

At one point, when the battle dragged on too long, she tilted her head.

"Hmm… you guys look tired. Here, have a breeze!"

A wave of crisp, invigorating air swept through the battlefield. Every stamina bar ticked up.

It wasn't healing. It wasn't direct offense.

It was pure, unfiltered utility.

And it was terrifyingly effective.

By the time the dungeon ended, her team was still standing, barely even worn out, while every other group had crawled out exhausted.

Leon had been watching the whole thing with a slow, dawning realization.

Mira wasn't a damage dealer. She wasn't even a traditional support.

She was a force multiplier.

The kind of player that could turn an average team into an unstoppable one.

So when it came time to pick recruits, Leon didn't hesitate.

Back in the guild hall, Leon crossed his arms. "She's something else."

Rael raised an eyebrow. "That useful?"

Leon smirked. "More like a force of nature."

Gale exhaled sharply. "She sounds a little..."

"Unhinged?" Elias offered.

"Too energetic."

Leon chuckled. "Yeah, well, wait till you see her. She's like bottled lightning—never sits still, always got something going on."

Gale leaned back, arms crossed. "Alright, my turn."

Rael motioned lazily. "Go for it."

"Lupus."

Leon raised a brow. "The wolf guy?"

Elias made a face. "The we are one guy."

The first time Gale noticed Lupus, the guy was standing off to the side, arms crossed, three spectral wolves sitting in a perfect line at his feet. He didn't introduce himself. Didn't look around. Just watched—like he was already measuring the strength of the group.

"Alright," Gale clapped his hands, breaking the silence. "Let's go around—names and roles."

A few mutters. Someone coughed.

Then Lupus spoke.

"Lupus. Summoner."

Gale blinked. "...Okay. And your wolves?"

Lupus tilted his head slightly, as if the question itself was odd.

"They are me. I am them. We move together."

Gale wasn't sure whether to be amused or concerned.

The first half of the dungeon was standard. Lupus used his wolves smartly—scouting, tracking enemy movements, keeping pressure on stragglers. He never spoke unnecessarily, just gave brief confirmations:

"Perimeter secured."

"Enemy shifting left."

"We move."

But then came the Ancient Warden.

Its blows could crater the stone floor. Shields barely held against its strikes. The frontline was scattering, spells were going wide, and the entire raid was seconds from falling apart.

And then Lupus moved.

It was like watching a predator slip into the hunt.

One wolf darted left. Another right. The last rushed in, drawing the Warden's attention for a split second—just long enough for Lupus himself to dash into the opening.

No hesitation. No delay.

He flowed between them, each motion mirroring his wolves exactly. If one leaped, he leaped. If one feinted, he followed up. His attacks came from impossible angles because his own wolves were setting up his movements.

This wasn't just summoning.

It was synchronization.

When the Warden swung, one wolf took the hit, dissolving into mist—only for Lupus to materialize in its place, blade carving deep into the exposed joints.

It was eerie. Precise. Almost mechanical.

By the time the fight ended, there wasn't a single wasted motion.

Lupus exhaled, straightened, and gave a short nod.

"Hunt complete."

Gale had stared for a moment, then simply grinned.

"Yeah, I'm picking you."

Lupus just turned. "Acknowledged. We move."

Leon shook his head. "So what, he just treats the wolves like part of his body?"

"More like they're part of the same mind," Gale corrected. "He doesn't control them. They just... move together."

Elias rubbed his temples. "And he talks like that all the time?"

"Pretty much," Gale admitted. "I don't even think he's trying to be dramatic. That's just how he is."

Rael considered it. "He useful?"

"Oh, definitely. Just don't expect much small talk."

Leon sighed. "Great. Another one with a weird speech pattern."

Elias groaned. "Next, please."

Elias narrowed his eyes. "Alright, you're last. Who'd you end up picking?"

Rael didn't hesitate. "Takane and SureArrow."

Leon blinked. "Two?"

"They were both worth it."

Gale crossed his arms. "That swordswoman barely spoke the whole time. She any good?"

Rael just nodded.

Leon chuckled. "And SureArrow... he had that whole leader thing going. Think he'll listen to you?"

"Doesn't need to," Rael said simply.

Elias tapped his fingers on the table, considering. "Huh. You always did like the quiet ones."

Rael didn't respond to that.

Instead, he leaned back, letting the conversation drift.

* * *

The guild hall felt different.

Not just in the way the room looked, though the changes were obvious. The once bare interior now had a sense of structure—wooden tables arranged neatly instead of scattered at random, polished floors that no longer creaked underfoot, banners of deep argent and black draped against the high walls. The soft glow of enchanted lanterns cast a steady, welcoming light, replacing the dim, uneven flicker of the old torches.

More importantly, the hall was no longer empty.

Dozens of people filled the space, voices overlapping in quiet conversations, the occasional laugh breaking through. A few leaned against walls, observing. Some gathered around tables, already forming small cliques. And then there were those who stood out—whether by personality, presence, or sheer force of being themselves.

Near the entrance, Kazan stood with a wide grin, arms folded across his chest as he leaned toward Lupus.

Kazan rested his chin on his hand, smirking. "So, you guys hold secret war councils? Maybe huddle in a circle and vote on who's leading the next hunt?"

Lupus turned his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "We do not vote. We move as one."

Kazan snorted. "Right, right. And what if one of you wants to take a break? Just, I don't know, kick back and enjoy life for a second?"

Lupus blinked. "We do not waste time."

Kazan raised an eyebrow. "You're telling me not a single one of your wolves has ever flopped over in the sun and just vibed?"

A pause. The largest wolf let out a slow, lazy yawn, its tongue rolling out before snapping its jaws shut.

Kazan grinned. "See? That one gets it."

Lupus stared at the wolf for a long moment, then back at Kazan. Finally, he nodded. "A moment of rest before the next hunt. Efficient."

Kazan chuckled. "Alright, alright, I can work with that. You're weird, but I like you."

Lupus gave no response. His wolves remained perfectly still, watching.

Kazan sighed, stretching his arms. "Man, I feel like I just lost an argument I didn't even know I was having."

On the other side of the hall, SureArrow had cornered Takane near one of the tables, arms crossed as he peered at her with exaggerated scrutiny.

"You know," he started, "next time, I'm taking the lead. You had your moment back there. Can't have you stealing the show every fight."

Takane turned her head just slightly, her expression unchanged. "... Do what you want."

SureArrow's jaw twitched.

"Tch." He leaned back, crossing his arms. "No fun."

As if on cue, Mira, the weathermancer, was chugging down a glass vial of suspiciously pink liquid. Every few seconds, the mixture crackled with tiny bursts of energy, the sound reminiscent of distant fireworks.

Leon, watching from the side, raised a brow. "You sure you should be drinking that?"

Mira wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, grinning. "It's fine! Just a little concoction to help me get a feel for the air here. Atmosphere's a bit stiff, y'know? Needs a little—"

She wiggled her fingers.

A faint breeze swept through the hall, fluttering banners and sending a few loose papers skidding across the floor.

Elias, lounging lazily against a table, lifted his head. "If you make it rain indoors, Rael's kicking you out."

Mira pouted. "Oh, come on! Just a drizzle?"

"No."

She sighed, taking another sip.

Rael stood near the front, arms crossed as he surveyed the scene.

The guild hall had changed.

Not just in appearance, but in feeling.

A month ago, it had been nothing more than an empty room—a barebones space, barely qualifying as a guild hall at all. Now, it felt real. It wasn't just the furniture, or the banners, or the newly installed mission board standing against the far wall, stacked neatly with quest postings. It was the people.

Eclipse had started as four people.

Now, it was something more.

The weight of it settled in his mind—not heavy, but present. A quiet acknowledgment of the foundation they had built.

Rael stepped forward, his gaze sweeping across the gathered members. The quiet hum of conversation tapered off as people turned toward him. He let the silence settle for a moment before speaking.

"We started this guild with just four people," he said, his voice steady. "Now, we're standing here with fifty. We've cleared the trials, pushed through, and every single one of you earned your place here."

He glanced toward the mission board. "From today, Eclipse is officially a guild that can take quests. That means progress, opportunity—growth. Whether you're here for the challenge, the rewards, or something else, remember one thing."

His eyes sharpened. "We move forward. Always."

There was a beat of silence.

Then, Kazan slammed a fist against his chest. "Hell yeah!"

SureArrow smirked, rolling his shoulders. "Sounds like a plan to me."

Mira pumped a fist in the air. "Let's gooo!"

The energy spread through the room—a ripple turning into a wave.

A collective cheer echoed through the hall, voices overlapping, rising, until it wasn't just noise—it was presence. A mark of something new, something real.

Rael let the moment settle, then released a slow breath.