Three days had passed since Jax and the Vixens received their new weapons and armor.
Three intense days.
Jax had insisted they train in full gear—no exceptions. From dawn until dusk, he pushed them relentlessly, hurling magic at them, triggering traps, simulating ambushes, and forcing them to react under pressure. Fire, wind, force, illusions—nothing lethal, but nothing gentle either.
At first, the armor felt strange.
Too light.
Too responsive.
But by the third day, it had become an extension of their bodies.
They had never seen craftsmanship like this before. Not in shops. Not on veteran adventurers. Not even in stories told by retired guild members. Every enchantment flowed naturally, enhancing movement instead of hindering it, amplifying intent instead of resisting it.
By the end of training, none of them doubted the gear.
And none of them doubted Jax.
The morning of departure came quietly.
Jax checked out of the hotel, handing over the keys to the suite. It was the first time since arriving in Solmere that he wouldn't be staying there. The staff, who had grown fond of the group—especially their generous tipping—wished them well.
The manager, on the other hand, looked relieved.
Apparently, defending nightly noise complaints for an entire building had been… exhausting.
The carriage arrived late in the morning.
It wasn't pulled by horses.
At least—not horses as Jax understood them.
Two massive creatures stood at the front, towering and broad-chested, with thick legs and powerful necks. They resembled horses in shape, but were easily twice the size, their hides reinforced with natural plates and faint magical patterns that pulsed as they breathed.
Draft Behemoths, according to Barb.
Reliable.
Tireless.
Expensive.
Worth it.
Based on the guild's estimates, the journey to Crystalshire would take about a week. Another week to return. The Mana Bulb harvest itself usually took ten days, though skilled parties could finish faster—some in as little as seven, others dragging on for two weeks.
Travelers often stayed in Crystalshire, a trade town nestled near the Mana Bulb fields and the Crystal Cave itself. Trade between towns was encouraged, but the distance and danger made it tedious for most adventurers.
All told, the guild expected a month-long trip.
The group packed efficiently.
Some belongings went into the carriage's closets and cabinets. Others vanished into System Storage with practiced ease.
When they boarded, the Vixens were once again struck by the absurdity of it.
Instead of huddling in a cramped stagecoach, they were stepping into a mobile residence.
A living room.
Bedrooms.
Bathrooms.
A kitchen.
Space.
"So this," Bunny said as she flopped dramatically onto the living room couch, arms spread wide, "is how you travel in style."
Llandra and Zee quietly retrieved their belongings from storage, organizing them into one of the large closets with practiced precision.
Nyxian made no such effort.
She walked straight to the bar, grabbed a bottle, and began pouring herself a drink.
"It's a long journey," she declared. "I should start with a double."
Echo appeared beside her in a ripple of purple shadow, hopping up onto the counter and watching her movements with keen interest before climbing onto her shoulders like an accessory he fully believed he was.
Jax boarded last, ensuring the rear storage space was secured.
That was when he noticed Brannic and Merriweather waiting nearby.
Brannic clasped his forearm firmly. "Safe travels, my boy."
Merriweather hugged him, wings fluttering softly. "Take care of our girls."
Jax nodded. "I will."
Moments later, the carriage lurched gently as the Behemoths began to move.
Solmere slowly slipped behind them.
The first day of travel buzzed with excitement.
This was their first real mission.
Officially, they were herb gatherers.
Unofficially…
They all knew the truth.
The Crystal Cave awaited.
Magical caves were anomalies—living things, according to scholars. The mana within them wasn't passive. It breathed. Shifted. Adapted. The magic itself spawned creatures, shaped environments, and drew beasts from far and wide.
Even if a cave was cleared entirely, it would repopulate over time.
That was why raids existed.
Why records mattered.
The Crystal Cave was infamous.
An A-rank dungeon.
The fastest clear on record belonged to an S-rank party two years ago—four days. Most successful groups took seven to ten days. Many never finished at all.
The cave didn't care about preparation.
It didn't care about confidence.
It tested everything.
As the carriage rolled onward, laughter echoed through its halls, excitement humming beneath every conversation.
None of them said it aloud.
But all of them felt it.
Their lives were about to change.
And somewhere beneath Crystalshire—
The cave waited.