Selva stood at a distance, her breath unsteadies, watching the three Gods in awe. The battlefield still smoldered, remnants of celestial light and arcane energy flickering against the darkened sky. Her mind struggled to process what she had just witnessed—an epic clash of divine might against an abyssal nightmare. Every strike they delivered had shaken the very ground beneath her feet, their power so vast and absolute that she felt insignificant in its presence.

  Her hands trembled as she clenched them into fists, not from fear, but from the overwhelming realization that she had fought alongside them. How could mere mortals even comprehend such strength? Arcane Magnus had torn through reality itself, Venya’s radiance had turned the battlefield into a celestial sanctuary, and Arden—Arden had crushed the Abyssal Weaver with sheer, unrelenting force, as if his fists alone were judgment passed by the heavens.

  A part of her felt unworthy to even stand among them. And yet, they treated her as an equal, as if she truly belonged. Her heart pounded, not from battle, but from the daunting truth—she had befriended the Arcana. And no matter how much she tried to ground herself in reason, the thought left her breathless.

  Then, Leigh’s words echoed in her mind, steady and unwavering: "Let’s keep it low, okay?" Selva smiled softly, feeling an immense gratitude wash over her. She still couldn’t believe how fortunate she was to have been chosen to fight alongside the Gods. Yet, she knew this was more than just luck—this was a responsibility. She bowed her head in silent resolve, her steps steady as she approached them.

  Arden noticed Selva approaching hesitantly and called out with his usual carefree tone, "Hey Selva, come on, let's wrap this up."

  "Yes, Master," Selva answered without thinking.

  Arden stopped in his tracks, turning to her with an exaggerated look of offense. "Master my ass! You trying to make me sound old?" he scoffed, crossing his arms. "Come on, let’s get these loots and turn Veyne upside down!"

  Leigh sighed, rubbing her temples. "Only you could ruin a perfectly dramatic moment, Arden."

  Arden burst into laughter, throwing an arm around Dominic, who simply shook his head in amusement. Selva couldn’t help but chuckle too—maybe this was what made them different. Even after facing unimaginable horrors, they could still laugh, still be themselves. And in that moment, she realized something else.

  She wasn’t just an outsider anymore. She was part of this. She ran to them, silently vowing to herself that she would guard their secret with unwavering loyalty, ensuring that no one would uncover their true identities. More than that, she promised to train relentlessly, to sharpen her skills, and to stand beside them—not as a mere observer, but as a true companion on their journey through Laoyon.

  The next morning, as the golden light of dawn filtered through the trees, Selva heard Leigh say, "Today marks our 13th day in Laoyon."

  Curious, she turned to the others. "What's the countdown for?"

  Dominic glanced at her before answering. "We are not the first Arcana to train here in Laoyon. My father, The Justice; my sister, The Sun; my aunt, The High Priestess; and her best friend, The Moon, trained here for 26 days before us."

  Selva furrowed her brows. "But why the countdown?"

  Dominic continued, "When I created Laoyon, I designed it to be the best world for training. Originally, time flowed at a rate of one hour in the Tarot World equaling one day in Laoyon. But after we reincarnated on Earth, the time difference changed—now, one day on Earth equals 78 days here."

  Leigh added, "After us, another group from our world will come to train. We want you to guide them."

  Selva’s eyes widened. "Another group? Who are they?"

  Leigh smiled. "Two of them are human like you. My grandfather and his bodyguard, Marcus. And one of the Arcana living on Earth as our country’s representative—The Temperance."

  Selva was overwhelmed with the flood of information. "And… after 26 days?"

  Leigh’s expression softened. "Arden, Dominic, and I will return to our world."

  A strange pang filled Selva’s chest, but before she could dwell on it, Arden grinned and patted her head. "Do your best to learn from them, okay?" His tone was playful, but there was an underlying sincerity in his gaze. Selva swallowed hard, nodding firmly. "I will. I promise."

  Selva took a deep breath, steadying herself. No matter what, she would continue to grow stronger—and honor the Gods’ trust in her.

  The group stopped by Mang Ronald’s restaurant to have their breakfast and learned that Veyne saw their battle with the humongous Abyssal Weaver. Everyone in the city was preparing to welcome the New Legendary Heroes of Veyne.

  Leigh panicked, "Oh no! How did they even see that far?"

  Dominic, as intelligent as ever, explained, "Have you forgotten that Laoyon is a world of magic? They probably have some binoculars that can see miles away clearly."

  Mang Ronald added with a chuckle, "Yes, that was really a jaw-dropping battle! They projected it using a crystal ball so everyone could see. I think they even set up a mirror in the Kingdom of Tvaris so the King could witness it."

  Leigh groaned dramatically, acting like she was about to cry. "There goes my low profile."

  Arden burst into laughter, tapping the table. "I just hope they captured my cool angles in the fight."

  Dominic shook his head. "I expect no less from the Great Fool."

  Leigh shot Arden a sharp stare while the rest of them laughed heartily. After sharing a good meal and giving Mang Ronald some souvenirs from their adventure, they continued their journey, walking along the dirt road back to the City of Veyne.

  The sun had barely begun its descent when the Grand City of Veyne erupted into celebration. The towering Southern Gates—once shadowed by the distant horror of the Abyssal Weaver—stood open wide, welcoming its victorious champions.

  A roar of cheers flooded the streets as Arden, Leigh, Dominic, and Selva stepped through the archway, their cloaks tattered, armor scuffed, and blades stained with the remnants of war. Yet, their presence radiated undeniable triumph.

  Banners embroidered with their insignias fluttered in the wind. Merchants threw gold confetti into the air, tavern owners raised mugs of ale in their honor, and children ran through the cobbled streets, chanting their names.

  From atop the Grand Balcony of the Chairman’s Hall, Chairman Voss stood beside his council, his arms outstretched to the people.

  "Veyne!" he bellowed. "The terror that haunted our lands for centuries has been vanquished! The Abyssal Weaver, the devourer of warriors, the nightmare of the Southern Plains… is no more! And the ones responsible for this great feat now stand before us!"

  A deafening cheer followed, shaking the city’s very foundation.

  The group stepped onto the ceremonial stage in the Grand Square, where a special podium had been erected just for this occasion. Musicians played triumphant melodies, dancers moved with dazzling precision, and enchanted fireworks burst in the sky above.

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  Just as Chairman Voss prepared to bestow the group with honorary titles, a sudden shift in the crowd’s murmurs turned heads toward the Northern Gate.

  A regal procession of armored knights, adorned in crimson and gold, made its way into the square. At the front, a man of strong build, with silver-threaded hair and piercing sapphire eyes, rode atop a stallion as black as the void.

  The King of Tvaris, Laoscius III, had arrived.

  The crowd fell into hushed reverence as the monarch dismounted, his flowing royal cloak trailing behind him. As a show of deep respect, the citizens of Veyne, the council members, and even the seasoned warriors instinctively bent the knee before their King. Selva knelt before the King. However, the three warriors remained standing, their expressions unwavering. Laoscius III approached them, his gaze analyzing them with the sharpness of a man who had seen countless battles, acknowledging the difference between respect and reverence.

  Then, to the astonishment of all, King Laoscius III removed his crown and knelt before them.

  "Heroes of Veyne," he spoke, his voice carrying the weight of a kingdom. "You have done what my finest knights could not. You have rid the Southern Plains of its greatest terror, avenged those lost to its web, and returned honor to this land."

  "As King of Tvaris, I kneel not as a ruler, but as a warrior, to show my respect. You are no longer just adventurers. You are legends."

  The city gasped in awe. A King kneeling to warriors? It was unheard of.

  But Laoscius III did not falter. He rose gracefully and gestured for one of his knights to step forward. The knight carried a jeweled chest, which, when opened, revealed four royal insignias of golden laurel crowns—a symbol of Knighthood directly from the Throne of Tvaris.

  "By the authority of the Throne, I hereby grant you all the title of Tvaris Knights of Honor. You are now recognized as warriors of my Kingdom, free to roam its lands as nobles, with full rights and privileges."

  As the King placed the insignia upon Selva, he noticed her still kneeling. With a warm smile, he reached down and gently lifted her to stand. "Rise, Selva. Today, you stand as an equal among legends."

  From the crowd, Darian, Selva’s father, wiped his tears as he watched the ceremony unfold. Beside him, Bren tried to comfort him, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. The weight of pride and relief washed over him—his daughter had become something far greater than he had ever imagined."

  As the King pinned the insignias onto their attire, the crowd erupted into applause once more, the very air vibrating with excitement.

  Selva turned to the King, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... I don't know what to say, Your Majesty."

  King Laoscius III gave her a reassuring nod. "Then say nothing, child. Let your actions continue to speak for you."

  Arden smirked, adjusting the insignia on his chest. "I have to say, this is a nice touch. But I hope there’s a feast that comes with it."

  Leigh sighed, shaking her head. "Arden, must you ruin every dignified moment?"

  Dominic chuckled. "At least he's consistent."

  The King let out a hearty laugh. "A feast is being prepared in your honor as we speak. I suspect Veyne has never seen a night of celebration quite like this."

  Selva glanced at her father, Darian, who was still wiping his tears. She stepped forward, reaching for his hand. "Father… did you ever imagine this?"

  Darian let out a soft chuckle. "Not in my wildest dreams, he uttered with a proud smile. But I always knew you were meant for greatness."

  Bren clapped Darian on the back. "And look at her now. A knight of Tvaris, a warrior of legend. Amazing."

  Selva laughed softly, then turned back to the King and her companions. The night had only begun, but in her heart, she knew—this was just the beginning of something far greater.

  Then another grand Victory Party began. This time, it was different—they were celebrating alongside the King himself.

  Laughter and cheers filled the air as tables overflowed with food and drink. Musicians played lively tunes, and the most awaited role-playing performance from the theater actors captivated the crowd. However, what was supposed to be a reenactment of the epic battle against the Abyssal Weaver quickly turned into an unexpected comedy.

  The actor playing Arden dramatically wielded a giant foam sword, swinging it wildly as he shouted, "Behold! My fists are stronger than steel!" before tripping over his own feet and tumbling into the fake webbing, much to the roaring laughter of the audience.

  Leigh covered her face in embarrassment. "Oh gods… they made him look even dumber than he already is."

  Dominic chuckled. "I think they captured his essence perfectly."

  Meanwhile, the actor portraying Dominic over-exaggerated every spell, waving his arms flamboyantly while bellowing nonsense incantations. "Arcane Magnus, unleash thy most devastating sparkles!" The crowd erupted in laughter as fake glitter shot out instead of flames.

  Arden wiped away tears from laughing. "I don’t know what’s funnier—the performance or Leigh’s suffering watching it."

  Selva, who had initially been watching in awe, was now doubled over, barely able to breathe from laughter. "This is... the greatest thing I've ever seen."

  Despite the comedic take, the performance was met with thunderous applause, and the city reveled in the long-awaited triumph, celebrating not just the heroes but the end of a centuries-old nightmare.

  "I think I could get used to this," Arden said, raising his mug. "Fame, feasts, and free drinks."

  Leigh rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her wine. "Just don’t get carried away. We still have more training to do."

  Dominic smirked. "Let him enjoy his moment. Who knows when we'll get another celebration like this?"

  As the festivities continued, a solemn moment arrived—a tribute to the fallen warriors of the Tvaris Kingdom. King Laoscius III stood and raised his hand, commanding silence. The crowd quickly hushed as he stepped forward, his expression solemn yet proud.

  "Tonight, we celebrate victory, but we must never forget the price that was paid. Many brave souls fought and fell so that we may see this day. Their courage, their sacrifice, and their unwavering resolve must be honored. Let us raise our cups to those who stood before us, to those who gave their all, and to the warriors who now watch over us from beyond."

  A circle of torches lit the center of the square as the people solemnly lifted their cups. The King raised his chalice high. "To the fallen, may their spirits find peace. May their names never be forgotten."

  The crowd followed suit, their voices unified in reverence as they murmured prayers of remembrance. Even Selva, who never cared for status, felt her heart swell with pride. Tonight, they weren’t just warriors—they were part of something greater.

  "To those who fought and fell, may their spirits find peace," Chairman Voss intoned. The crowd followed suit, raising their cups and murmuring prayers of remembrance.

  Far away from the square, atop the roof of the Northern Gate Tower, a group of shadowy figures stood motionless, their gazes locked onto the celebration below. Their cloaks rippled slightly in the evening breeze, their presence masked by the festive noise that filled the city.

  One of them shifted, their voice barely above a whisper. "They are stronger than expected."

  Another figure nodded. "And they grow stronger still. We must act soon."

  The tallest among them, his eyes glinting with something unreadable, spoke last. "Patience. The game has only just begun."

  Unbeknownst to the revelers, the celebration was not the end of something—it was the beginning of something far greater, and far more dangerous.

  Dominic elbowed Arden, his expression suddenly serious. "Did you feel that? We're being watched."

  Arden casually took a sip from his mug, his eyes flickering toward the rooftops. "Yeah, they've been watching us for a while now."

  Leigh, overhearing them, lowered her glass slightly. "How many?"

  Dominic exhaled, his fingers lightly tracing the insignia on his new cloak. "At least three. Maybe more."

  Selva stiffened. "Should we do something?"

  Arden leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms. "Nah," he said with a grin. "Let's just enjoy the moment for now."

  Dominic simply took a slow sip from his drink, shaking his head with an amused smirk. "How typical like novel… they never learn."

  The party continued late into the night, filled with more laughter, music, and celebratory drinks. The King, despite his regal presence, joined in merrily, sharing old battle stories with Arden, who was more than eager to match his energy. Leigh found herself stuck answering endless questions from the noble ladies of Veyne, much to her dismay, while Dominic and Selva were pulled into an impromptu dancing contest.

  As the final song played, the King stood, offering his final toast. "Tonight, we celebrate, but the future holds greater challenges. Rest well, my friends, for the road ahead is long."

  With that, the celebration came to a peaceful end. The King and his royal entourage departed for Tvaris, leaving behind a city still buzzing with excitement. As the festivities died down, the four warriors made their way back to their usual guest rooms, prepared by the Council Chairman of Veyne.

  Selva stretched her arms, still feeling the energy of the night. "I don’t think I’ve ever had a celebration like that before," she said with a small laugh as she helped her drunk father, Darian, walk with Bren supporting him from the other side.

  Darian, his face flushed from the drinks, chuckled through teary eyes. "See, Niada? Your daughter is as amazing as you!" He gestured toward the sky as if speaking to his late wife. "She’s a hero now!"

  Bren patted Darian’s back, trying to steady him. "Alright, old man, let’s get you inside before you start giving speeches to the moon."

  Selva shook her head, smiling warmly. For the first time, she truly felt at home.

  Arden grinned, tossing his cloak over his shoulder. "Better get used to it. Legendary heroes tend to attract parties."

  Leigh sighed. "If only the road ahead were as easy as tonight."

  Dominic smirked as he pushed open the door to his room. "Enjoy the peace while it lasts. Something tells me it won’t last for long."

  The four exchanged glances, a silent understanding passing between them. The night may have ended in celebration, but the weight of what lay ahead settled upon them like an unseen force. Somewhere in the darkness, something stirred—watching, waiting, preparing.