The morning sun hadn't yet burned through the mist when Zairon stood before the assembled members of the Sovereign Legion.
Dozens of eyes looked up at him—warriors, healers, strategists, former slaves reborn as soldiers. The guild uniforms were a mismatched blend of practicality and power, but what united them was something deeper.
Loyalty.
Madness.
Hope.
Zairon stood at the front, arms crossed, Sovereign Slash humming at his side like a sleeping beast.
"Today," he said, voice calm but razor-sharp, "we march into a D-Rank dungeon."
A flicker of nervous excitement passed through the group.
"E-Rank monsters, you'll handle them with ease. D-Rank ones?" He smirked. "If they're too much, step back. I'll take care of them."
He began walking slowly down the line, eyes drifting over Gareth, Lena, and Maruna—their expressions calm and ready.
"Today, I'll be on the frontlines. I want to see you all. How you move. How you fight. How you survive. Impress me—" his voice lowered, teeth flashing, "and I'll reward you. Better weapons. Better roles. More responsibility… and more power."
He raised a hand.
"We move fast. We kill everything. No hesitation. No mercy."
He pointed toward the looming gate of the dungeon.
"Those beasts? They're not just monsters. They're stepping stones."
He turned back to his troops, his voice now booming.
"WE'RE NOT HERE TO SURVIVE!"
"WE'RE HERE TO ASCEND!"
"FOR THE LEGION!"
The group roared back:
"FOR THE LEGION!"
With a manic grin, Zairon turned and marched forward—his cloak flaring, his energy already pulsing wildly.
And behind him, the Sovereign Legion moved like a tide.
Into the dungeon they marched.
Into legend.