The heavy doors of the guild shut behind them, the metallic echo slicing apart the road and dust outside like a blade. The noise of the day hadn't fully faded—inside, the hall roared with voices, the scent of liquor and sweat tangled thick in the air.
The mission board was crammed with people. Some argued over prices, some bragged about their deeds, and others stole glances at Luna's back, whispering in hushed tones that only grew louder the longer they spoke.
"Is that her?"
"The nine-year-old? You missed it last night, a whole damn spectacle."
"Spectacle, my ass. She froze the Black Wing bandits into popsicles after letting them blow themselves up—didn't give either side any face."
"Bullshit. The fire was their own doing."
"You don't get it—that's called using force against itself…"
Jorin dragged his half-empty herb sack along, his body sagging as though his bones had turned to water. Even so, he kept glancing nervously toward the door, afraid something brainless might burst in after them. Sera walked at his side, covered in dirt yet her eyes gleamed as if polished. Luna led the group, her aqua hair glowing faintly under the lamps, like she carried a slice of the heavens on her back.
Behind the counter, Mira was already waiting. The moment she spotted them, she rushed forward.
"You—back already!" She cut herself off mid-sentence, her gaze sweeping over Jorin first, checking he had all his limbs, then darting to Luna and Sera. Only then did she let out a breath of relief, though the crease of worry between her brows refused to smooth. "No injuries?"
"I do," Sera said.
Mira stiffened. "Where?!"
"My smile muscles. Nearly cramped."
Mira glared. "I'm serious."
"So am I." Sera tilted her chin. "Look at her." She gestured toward Luna. "Not a single rip in her clothes. And she even brought back some souvenirs."
Luna hummed lightly, pulling two copper tokens from her pouch. Each bore a strange wing-like emblem. She laid them on the counter with a crisp clink.
"Found these on the bandits. Looks like Black Wing's crest. Can't say if they're from the same branch."
The murmurs around them spiked like someone yanking on a loose thread.
"Black Wing?"
"No way…"
"Didn't they catch two informants up north just last month? How are more popping up?"
Mira's face paled. She snatched up the tokens and stuffed them into a guild seal-bag.
"I'll file this. For now, finish your report. I'll settle your pay together." Her eyes flicked to Luna, voice dropping to a whisper. "You're really fine? Things outside the city… haven't been safe."
Luna grinned, passing her adventurer's card across the counter. "I'm fine. Just some wind watching the show."
"…That makes me less reassured." Mira muttered, though her hands worked quickly, stamping, signing, drawing out a coin pouch with practiced motions. Her mind, however, lingered elsewhere. She kept glancing up at the second-floor balcony—dark tonight, save for two wall lamps glowing like half-shut eyes.
The pouch clinked on the counter. Jorin's eyes lit up.
"Thank you… thank you so much!" His thanks tumbled over each other until, overwhelmed, he grabbed Luna's little hands and shook them wildly. "If not for you, I might have…"
"You might have ended up treating us to dinner twice. Now it's three." Sera cut in, tugging the pouch from Mira's counter. "Hey, boss, you promised extra food when we came back."
Jorin chuckled sheepishly. "Extra! I'll head to the kitchen right now—"
"Not so fast." Luna tugged his sleeve. "What about the receipt?"
"Ah, the receipt!" Jorin smacked his forehead and hurried to confirm with Mira. She handed it over like she'd been expecting this all along. Jorin all but bowed as he left, steps light, relief heavy on his shoulders.
The hall bustled on. At the counter, only the three remained.
Not far away, someone hollered: "Hey, Mad Fist! One more fight!" Another whistled, "Little miss, come under my wing, I'll take care of you!"
The moment the voices rose, so did laughter and jeers.
Sera rolled up her sleeves and turned. "Who?" she said the word like: who wants their teeth knocked out.
The culprits suddenly studied the board with great interest.
"So many missions! Weather's great today!"
"I—I meant that guy, not me!" one stammered, sparking another wave of laughter.
Luna swept the crowd with a calm look.
"You all seem lively. Good. Put that energy into missions—you'll earn more than running your mouths."
Her words carried lightly, but sharp enough to sting. The men closest coughed awkwardly and bent back to the board as though chastised.
Sera bumped her fist lightly against Luna's hand. "Your mouth hits harder than my fists."
Mira sealed the evidence bag tight, then looked up.
"One more thing." She pulled out a stack of forms. "You two work together often. By guild rules, you can form a fixed team. Benefits: higher mission quotas, priority intelligence, cross-region support. Obligations: shared responsibility, shared reports."
At "higher quotas," Sera leaned forward eagerly. "Good. Let's form one now."
"What about the name?" Luna asked.
Mira blinked. "You've already thought about it?"
Sera pointed at Luna. "She has. She rattled off half a dozen on the road. 'Frosted Donuts,' 'Punches and Milk Foam'—I almost punched her."
Laughter erupted nearby, nearly spilling drinks across Mira's desk. She yanked her ledger away just in time. "Please, no."
Luna ticked her fingers seriously. "Actually, 'Punches and Milk Foam' has imagery. Or 'Two Girls, One Juice'—"
Sera snapped. "We're not opening a café—we're fighting!"
Luna fell quiet, then tapped frost onto the counter. A simple crest bloomed—a morning star breaking through ice, like dawn.
Her eyes lifted, her tone steady for once.
"Ice Dawn."
Mira studied the frosty glow. Her voice softened. "A good name." She slid the forms forward. "Captain, vice-captain—choose."
"She," Sera said instantly.
"She," Luna echoed.
Both froze, then met each other's gaze. Sera burst out laughing. "Fine. I'll be vice. You're sharper and quicker. If I led, I'd drag us crooked."
"You drag the enemies crooked instead." Luna winked.
They bantered as they filled in the forms with swift hands. Mira stamped, engraved, and passed over two polished bronze tags, etched with the team name and crest. She looped one around Luna's neck. Sera snagged the other—then hung it around Luna's neck too.
"Fair. Now you carry double weight."
Luna looked down at the twin tags with mock despair. "I'm nine. This is child abuse."
"You'll get one back when you're ten." Sera said solemnly.
Mira smiled despite herself. "Alright. 'Ice Dawn' is official. By rule, you need a cooperative trial. Tonight there's an open slot. Do it now?"
"Now," Sera said. "While we're hot."
"See if the name's lucky," Luna added.
"Luck's not the problem," Mira warned. "The examiner is strict. Don't argue with him."
"I don't argue. I punch." Sera grinned.
"You just did," Luna whispered.
Mira led them toward the training arena. Eyes trailed after them, whispers buzzing—resentment, curiosity, admiration. Some stared at Sera's scarred knuckles, others at Luna's calm far beyond her age, waiting to see which would break.
The archway opened into cold air. At the center, a rune-carved platform rose. Their examiner was a hulking man with a stubbled jaw and shoulders like a wall. He squinted at Luna.
"Nine? You serious?" He glanced at Mira. "You drop kids on me, want me to take the blame?"
"Run the protocol first," Mira said dryly. "Then you can."
"I always go easy." He yawned, then jerked his chin at Luna. "Five rounds. Increasing difficulty. Test coordination, rhythm, rescue, reaction. Three clears, you're qualified. Four, priority. Five…" His eyes gleamed. "Then you owe me a drink."
Luna blinked innocently. "I'm underage."
"Then you owe me future." He smirked.
Sera was already rolling her shoulders. "Bring it."
The first four rounds played out like a duet—frost tripping constructs, fists shattering shields, rhythm seamless. By the third, even the bystanders were cheering. By the fourth, when smoke blinded the platform, their voices still cut clean through the fog.
"Left two." Sera.
"Upper three." Luna.
Every strike landed true.
The fifth round, however, rumbled with menace. From the slot rose a colossal steel colossus, shoulders carved with ancient runes, chest glowing with a mana crystal.
The crowd gasped.
"Not part of the test, Rog," Mira warned.
"Just seeing their limit." He folded his arms. "Scared, kid?"
Luna stared at the giant. Her lips curved faintly. "Sera, still got strength?"
Sera cracked her fists. "Always."
"Then make it kneel."
Frost sketched maps across the floor, guiding its missteps. Each of Sera's punches slammed into chilled joints, shattering cracks into steel. Blow by blow, the giant faltered.
Finally, with a last icy whisper—"Kneel"—Luna froze its footing as Sera's fist drove into its knee.
The colossus collapsed with a thunderous crash. The mana crystal dimmed.
Cheers exploded.
Rog stared a long moment, then stuck out a thumb. "Five rounds. You owe me that drink."
"When I'm ten," Luna said dead serious.
"…You little brat." Rog chuckled.
The guild stamped their new rank. Ice Dawn was born.
Whistles and laughter surged. Some shoved mission slips toward Luna—only to retreat under Sera's glare.
Luna tucked the twin tags against her chest, smiling as if she'd found a new toy, or perhaps a vow.
"Mira-sis, pick us two new missions. Not too boring. Not too crazy."
"Define boring." Mira sighed. "Yesterday you called escorting herbs fun. Today you turned bandits into fireworks."
Luna pinched her fingers narrowly. "Between fruit juice and roast meat."
Sera added instantly. "Something with juice and punching."
"…I'll try." Mira pulled two slips. One marked: Night Wailing from the Old Well. The other: South Granary Sabotage. "Neither is brute force alone. Both need brains. Choose."
"The singing well!" Luna's eyes sparkled.
"Eat first, sing later." Sera swapped it for the granary.
Luna thought, then nodded. "True. Hunger throws off pitch."
Chuckles rippled through the hall. Mira hushed them with a glare, then lowered her voice. "The granary has a deadline. Patrol tonight, report tomorrow. Can you?"
"Yes," they answered together.
As they left, two shadows leaned from the second-floor balcony. One, a silver-masked man, fingers tapping the rail. The other, a white-robed scholar, gaze quiet as a painting.
Virian Kross chuckled. "Their rhythm's faster than I thought."
The robed man said nothing. His eyes lingered on Luna, then vanished into the dark.
Virian's voice dropped. "File them under Ice Dawn. Every mission. Copy to my desk."
Far outside, beneath the eaves, Shadowfiend Sharic Norn pressed his hand to cold stone, listening as though to the heartbeat of the wall. A shadow crow slipped from his fingers into the night.
"Fixed team formed. Habits complement. Fewer gaps." His smile was sharp as a blade's back. "But not none."
The crow carried whispers from the guild hall. He listened, then tapped the wall twice.
"Not yet. Wait for their first night patrol—when they're tired, loose, and think they've learned the dark."
The city quieted. At the guild's side door, Mira shoved two food pouches and whistles into their hands.
"Eat on the way. If trouble hits, blow."
"Got it." Sera tied hers to her belt, hanging Luna's whistle around her neck. "She blows, I punch."
Luna held the whistle like treasure. "See you later, Mira-sis."
Mira watched them vanish into the streets, their shadows chopped by lamps. She thought of the frost emblem Luna had drawn—a glimmer like dawn breaking through ice. For some reason, she felt certain more heads would soon tilt toward those words: Ice Dawn.
The streets darkened. The granary loomed like a crouching beast.
Sera bit into her rations, muttering around the mouthful, "Think that big lug Rog will hide next time?"
Luna nibbled her half. "He'll hide the booze first."
"I'll find it." Sera thumped her fist.
Luna giggled, then stilled, her gaze flicking to a shadow at the alley's edge. She set her food down, tracing an invisible frost thread across her palm.
Sera shifted, stepping protectively in front of her. "Smell something."
"Twenty paces," Luna murmured, soft as a lullaby. "The wind's watching. Someone's writing tonight's play."
Their eyes met. Neither retreated. They walked deeper into the dark toward the granary, where night waited like a stage curtain lowering.
Somewhere unseen, two smiles curved. One beneath the eaves. One behind the balcony. Different intentions, woven into a tide ready to drag the city forward.
"Ice Dawn," Sera whispered, like an oath to herself and to the small figure at her side. "Let's drag the night into the light."
Luna nodded. "Mm. Let's cool it down first." She blew across her fingertips. Frost drifted unseen, spreading across stone, timber, and certain lurking hearts.
The first step of their night patrol landed in misted frost—and in destiny.
To them, it was just another path.
To those watching, it was the boundary of the hunt.
And the real hunt… hadn't even begun.