The tavern exploded the moment the Vixens stepped inside.
Not figuratively.
Literally.
Cheers slammed into them like a physical force—mugs raised high, chairs scraped back, people shouting over one another as the entire room surged forward.
"The Vixens!"
"They're here!"
"They did it—less than two days!"
The tavern keeper barely had time to blink before his establishment turned into a celebration hall.
The record was all Crystalshire had talked about since the alert rang.
Thirty-four hours.
Forty-two minutes.
Nine seconds.
The previous record—just over four days—had stood untouched for four years, set by an S-Rank party whose names were still carved into the guild's honor wall. They'd spent nearly two months mapping the Crystal Cave, logging rotations, measuring spawn cycles, refining strategies until perfection itself bowed to them.
And now?
An E-Rank party had shattered it.
The Vixens were ushered toward a long table near the center of the tavern, hands grabbing at sleeves, kids darting through legs to hug them around the waist.
"I wanna be a Vixen when I grow up!" one girl shouted, clinging to Bunny's leg.
Bunny froze—then laughed, kneeling to hug her back. "You already are," she said warmly.
The food arrived in waves—hearty stews, fresh bread, roasted meats, plates stacked higher than necessary. It was good food. Comforting. Warm.
Not great by Jax's standards—but tonight wasn't about refinement.
Drinks flowed freely. Laughter followed.
The Vixens basked in it, glowing with pride and disbelief, riding the high of victory and recognition. Llandra greeted everyone who approached with sincere bows. Zee tried to keep up with handshakes and hugs, cheeks flushed. Bunny laughed so hard she nearly choked on her drink.
Nyxian smiled too—but her eyes kept flicking toward the tavern door.
Jax arrived later.
He entered alongside Eldrich, the warehouse owner Pophov, and Pophov's quiet, sharp-eyed wife, Ellie.
The noise barely dipped when Jax stepped inside—but the Vixens noticed.
Eldrich adjusted his bow tie as he sat, eyes scanning the room like he'd entered hostile territory.
"You know," he said dryly, "one gains the same nutritional sustenance eating in private as one does in public."
Jax smirked and ordered four ales. "True. But drinking alone doesn't build memories."
Eldrich opened his mouth to argue—then paused.
…He didn't have a counter for that.
Introductions were made.
Pophov and Ellie were a slender, canine-featured couple—graceful, sharp, and quietly calculating. Jax didn't care about appearances. He watched how Pophov spoke, how Ellie listened, how decisions passed between them without words.
"The amount of Temporal Crystals you delivered today," Pophov said, voice trembling with excitement, "will keep us operational for a year."
Jax nodded. "There's more coming. The wagon's still filling. We've got at least eighteen more hours of excavation."
Pophov laughed—actually laughed—then leaned over to kiss Ellie on the cheek. She smiled softly, finally understanding why her husband had barely slept in the last day.
It wasn't a dream.
It was happening.
Jax turned to Eldrich. "How's the dimensional gateway?"
Eldrich sighed. "The theory is sound. Back door, front door—stable. But working with dormant, undersized crystals is like building a bridge with wet sand."
Jax reached into his System.
The room went silent as he placed a massive Temporal Crystal on the table—clear as glass, humming with restrained power.
"Try this tomorrow."
Eldrich froze.
His hands hovered like the crystal might bite him. "This is—this is—"
Jax placed a hand on his shoulder. "Into storage. Tomorrow. After six am."
Eldrich twitched. "I could—"
"Eat," Jax said calmly. "Drink. Tonight matters."
Eldrich swallowed.
And then something unexpected happened.
Bunny leaned over. "I like your bow tie," she said simply.
Not flirting.
Not teasing.
Just… acknowledgment.
Eldrich blinked.
Warmth spread through his chest—unfamiliar, uncomfortable, and strangely pleasant. He wasn't an outsider here.
He was included.
As the night went on, Jax talked business with Pophov, occasionally turning to Eldrich.
"What do you think?"
Each time, Eldrich hesitated—then answered.
And each time, Jax listened.
Halfway through dinner, Jax casually revealed something.
"That forty percent stake," he said, "is split. Twenty for Pophov. Twenty for Eldrich."
Eldrich dropped his fork.
"…I thought you only bought my schematics."
"I did," Jax replied. "And you'll get paid for every unit sold. Forever. You focus on your work. I'll handle the rest."
Eldrich stared at him.
No one had ever taken care of him like that.
The night ended louder than it began—songs, laughter, stories that would grow taller with every retelling.
Friendships formed.
Partnerships sealed.
And for the first time in his life, Eldrich drank too much, laughed too hard…
…and woke the next morning with what he suspected would be his first—and possibly last—hangover.
Crystalshire would remember this night.
And none of them knew just how much it had changed.