The Sleepless of Dawnlight – Shien

In the early morning, Dawnlight was still wrapped in a layer of cold mist.

In the distance, you could faintly make out the ruined outlines of what was once called Broken Fang Valley — a wasteland scarred by endless battles, littered with scorched earth and snapped beast bones, and soaked in the permanent stench of decay and blood.

When they first arrived, this place was nothing more than a forsaken death zone no one wanted to speak of.

Now, it was Dawnlight — a home where the catfolk, bonefolk, and countless once-homeless monsters lived side by side, the first spark of hope rising from a land of famine and war.

—

Shien had never been someone used to attention.

He was the kind of guy you'd lose sight of if you scooped up a dozen E-rank adventurers at random.

When he first registered, the magic crystal he touched barely flickered — only because he squeezed it too hard and cracked it a little was he "reluctantly" awarded an E-rank.

And from that day on, fifteen years passed —

his rank never once went up.

"Why're you even sticking around the Adventurer's Guild if you can't use magic?"

"You fighting monsters with your fists? What are you, the reincarnation of a sword saint? Wake up, man, this is a magic world!"

So he took the jobs nobody else wanted:

Carrying stones, clearing ruins, cleaning mana wells, hauling monster corpses.

He could run over a whole mountain range on foot, pull a broken wagon axle free with his bare hands.

He couldn't cast a fireball — but he could wrestle a direwolf to the ground with just a rope.

He knew he wasn't born to be the hero —

So he chose to become the one the heroes could rely on.

Now, he stood quietly as he watched the freshly paved streets of Dawnlight and the neatly lined fields, a city still rough but already shining with life.

He thought back to the last time he saw his parents' backs—

It was raining.

The mountainside had half-collapsed.

Monsters had the village surrounded.

His father picked him up, stuffed him into a battered wooden crate.

"You're strong. You'll endure," his father said — his first and last words to him.

His mother tied a red cloth around his neck — which Shien still wore as a wristband today.

"Walk forward. Don't wait for us. Get strong, and you'll be able to choose your own path."

He didn't cry.

He just clenched his teeth as he listened to the sounds of his parents turning to fight — the thud of swords, the howl of monsters —

until it all went quiet.

That night, the entire village was swallowed by the monster tide.

Only he was left, crawling out of that crate, dragging mud-caked feet toward the nearest adventurer outpost.

He was seven.

No magic.

Just a pair of callused hands.

He believed that if he worked hard enough, if he took enough jobs, if he earned enough money, he'd level up.

He'd get stronger. Strong enough to one day protect the road that once led to his home —

even if the village was gone, even if he was the only one left to walk it.

But E-rank never changed.

For ten years, he stayed the same:

An E-rank adventurer doing grunt work, unable to afford real weapons, living in a drainage pipe.

Until he met Ira.

"Wow, Shien! You're so good at carrying backpacks!"

She said it while bouncing around him, grinning like he wasn't the joke everyone else saw —

the kid with the laughable rank, the failed promotions, the magicless body.

She just saw someone who could carry a bag taller than himself and still smile, saying, "Today I moved fifteen sacks of dirt!"

Some people are born from the light.

Others walk through mud their whole lives, just to be strong enough to hold up the light for others.

Shien didn't think he was special.

But he remembered his parents' smiles that day —

and he wanted to become the kind of back people could trust to stand firm.

And here, in Dawnlight, he was starting to do just that.

If he couldn't have magic, then he'd build a city where no one had to fear living without it.

—

At first, the monsters here didn't welcome them —

they were suspicious, wary.

The Catfolk and Bonefolk had barely signed a peace treaty after decades of skirmishes.

The drifters from the borders were only here because Dawnlight didn't charge rent.

Deep down, they all had the same questions:

"Are these humans messengers of some god?

Sent here to change us?"

"Or spies from some great empire, trying to claim our land?"

"That boy with no magic… he's her bodyguard? Come on, he's so skinny…?"

But Shien and his group never explained anything.

They just kept laying roads, digging ditches, chopping wood, and hauling stone.

He built the first boiler room for the Mushroomfolk,

set up the bone warehouse for the Bonefolk,

remembered every tribe's food and sleeping habits.

He made cooling tea for the Catfolk in the summer.

He roasted dry grass for the Shroomfolk when supplies ran low.

He even stopped three minor riots —

barehanded, pinning down four mid-tier demon warriors without using a single spell.

No one knew how strong he really was.

He could shatter stone joints with a punch.

Stomp crystal beasts flat with one foot.

Work three straight days and nights to finish emergency shelters before a storm.

He fought bandit monster gangs,

grappling them hand-to-hand while they threw ice blades and molten fists at him.

But he never bragged.

He just smiled and said,

"I'm just… pretty good at taking hits."

—

Now, the city was nearly complete.

Axu stood at the steps, flipping through the latest census.

"Shien… Dawnlight's population just passed two thousand. We're not a village anymore. We're on the verge of becoming a full-fledged city-state."

Shien passed by, lugging two barrels of new nails.

"Then we'd better upgrade the waterlines. Add two more toilets. Oh, and the Dawnbeasts are expecting their third batch of babies — maybe we should build a nursery?"

Axu stared at him for a long time, then finally muttered:

"…How do you even exist?"

Shien just smiled, a little sheepishly.

"I don't have magic, so I just wake up earlier every day."

—

Such a person was the true cornerstone of the city.

Not the title of lord, nor the comparison of strength—

but the one who didn't shine, yet never let anyone fall.

He wasn't Ira's shadow.

He was her foundation.

No matter how high she soared, she would always know—

there was a city beneath her, held up by him.

—

Shien slowly pulled himself back from the tide of memories, raising his head slightly.

Before him was the familiar, chaotic scene of the council hall: maps, reports, crystal communication devices, and a few pages decorated with Ira's doodles of little cats strewn across the long table.

Clad stood with arms crossed, fiercely arguing with Damm over who should represent the southeastern liaison.

"I'm better at negotiations—"

"You mean you're better at trickery, not negotiations."

"It's called 'charm-based persuasion,' you peasant!"

Across the room, Frey nibbled on a biscuit with a cold expression, heavily pregnant with twins yet still insisting on personally inspecting the anomaly at the Windwhisper Tower.

Granny Barr was knitting in a chair while simultaneously gossiping about the youthful scandals of some ancient beast diplomat—and casually declaring that she could carry luggage too.

Big Barley scratched his ears awkwardly in a corner, muttering,

"…I think I can learn diplomacy too… My pronunciation has gotten better, meow."

Axu floated midair, massaging his temples.

"Do you people even realize we're supposed to represent Dawnlight in an international alliance summit?! Not a damn field trip!"

"I can be the event MC!" Ira volunteered brightly, waving her hand—still holding a custard stick, of course.

The room: ...

(dead silence)

Shien chuckled lightly, standing up and resting both hands on the edge of the table.

His voice was low but steady:

"Everyone… I've decided to stay behind."

The room fell utterly silent.

Even Granny Barr's ball of yarn rolled to a stop.

"This city… we built it together," he said. "Brick by brick, stone by stone, from the ruins.

You're going to repair the Magic Towers—for the world's future.

But this place—Dawnlight—is our present."

"If the day ever comes that this city needs me…

I don't want to be thousands of miles away, helpless."

His words weren't many,

but they swept through the room like a warm wind brushing across the heart.

Everyone fell silent, absorbing it.

Frey's gaze softened first.

"I'll stay too," she said quietly. "My children deserve a safe home."

Clad frowned, thinking for a moment, then nodded.

"I'll stay. Someone has to keep an eye on you idiots who think you're charming."

Damm sighed exaggeratedly.

"Fine, I'll go. I'm less scary-looking. Negotiations need a soft opener."

"I can carry your luggage!" Ira instantly volunteered, bouncing.

"…Shouldn't it be me carrying you instead?" Big Barley muttered under his breath.

Axu floated back onto Ira's head with a resigned sigh:

"Fine. Expedition party: Ira, me, Grandpa Tower, Luca, and Barley."

Grandpa Tower drifted over, voice slow and gentle:

"Little Ira… may I request an official candy ration for the journey?"

"Of course!" Ira beamed. "You're our best Grandpa Tower!"

At that, the entire council hall exploded into a sea of metaphorical pink bubbles.

Axu simply rolled his eyes to the back of his head and gave up counting how many custard sticks had been consumed today.

Everyone stood, exchanging nods, shoulder pats, handshakes, and small smiles.

For the first time,

they weren't gathering just to survive—

they were gathering to bring their city into the world.

—

After the meeting ended, as the lights of the city hall dimmed, everyone gradually left—

except for Ira.

She walked slowly over to Shien, who remained by the long table, still quietly thinking.

In her hands was her half-eaten custard stick.

She smiled brightly, her voice light and genuine:

"Shien, you sounded so cool just now!"

She tiptoed, reaching up to ruffle his hair lightly.

"You've worked really hard."

Her voice wasn't loud.

But it brushed over his heart like a shaft of sunlight cutting through heavy clouds.

Shien froze for a moment.

His eyes flickered with hesitation, his heartbeat skipping.

A long-buried memory suddenly surged back—

That day at the magic aptitude testing stone,

where the crystal barely flickered, locking him at E-rank.

The instructors whispered among themselves,

some shaking their heads,

others suggesting that his parents "just send him down the normal human path."

But his parents, ordinary yet steadfast, said nothing.

They simply walked up, smiled,

and gently ruffled his hair:

"You've already done your best, Shien.

We're so proud of you."

He didn't fully understand those words back then.

He only knew that he hadn't disappointed them—and that was enough.

Now, years later,

that same voice, that same gesture,

that same pure, unfiltered gaze—

reappeared perfectly through Ira.

Suddenly, his eyes stung.

He ducked his head slightly, hiding the emotion.

He whispered,

"Thank you… Ira."

He knew then, beyond all doubt—

he had made the right choice.

He would stay.

He would protect this city built by miracles—

Protect the one who made him believe in himself again.

Meanwhile, Ira was staring dreamily at a spider dangling from the ceiling, muttering:

"Ah… that spider looks like a tiny dog…"

Shien chuckled.

The light in his eyes became even steadier.

—

[Blackfang Cavern - Secret Council]

Night had fallen into something darker than mere night.

Deep beneath a dried-up canyon,

dozens of ghostly blue flames flickered, casting a nightmare glow over the vast cave system.

This was the main den of the Blackfang Cavern.

At the highest stone platform,

Blaw Hooktooth gnawed irritably on his bone staff, his face twisted in frustration.

"Speak clearly," he rasped.

"What exactly did they build?"

Three scout creatures, dressed in tattered cloaks, knelt below, reeking of mud and damp grass.

One, a three-eyed demon, reported in a low voice:

"Reporting, Chief… When we tried to infiltrate, a barrier blocked us. But from a distance, we observed—they're no longer a village."

Another, a bat-eared creature, chimed in quickly:

"They have a tower. They have structures. They have a system… and… a giant communal soup pot!"

The third scout, looking the most battered, whimpered:

"…Even their weeds are glowing…"

Blaw's face darkened.

He ground the bone staff's tip to dust between his jaws.

"…So you're telling me—they really built it?"

The scouts nodded in unison.

"Their gates fly a banner… It's some kind of custard-shaped emblem… and it says four words."

"What words?" Blaw growled.

The three scouts spoke together:

"Dawnlight."

Silence gripped the cavern.

Blaw shut his eyes as if physically restraining himself—

then suddenly let out a feral roar, slamming his fist into the rock pillar and cracking it down the middle.

"Building it just made it easier to steal!!"

"And now they even have a fucking tower?!"

The entire den fell still, the blue flames flickering.

Blaw's blood-red eyes gleamed as he licked his fangs,

turning toward the depths of the stone prison.

He spoke low, dark words:

"Looks like it's about time we 'visit' that little city."

"Once the eclipse falls… we'll plant our flag."

"And turn their Dawnlight—into our Hunting Light."

This would be a disaster still sleeping in the shadows.

The city of Dawnlight, bathed in sunshine, had no idea—

The darkness was already moving.