Crystalshire had always prepared for moments like this.
The city had been built around the Crystal Cave long before most of its citizens were born, and with it came systems—ritualized, practical, and deeply ingrained into daily life. One of those systems was the alert.
So when the bells rang, echoing across rooftops and market streets, no one panicked.
They celebrated.
The Crystal Cave had been cleared.
Work stopped almost instantly.
Blacksmiths quenched unfinished blades. Farmers set tools aside. Shopkeepers locked doors without complaint. For many, this single alert meant more coin in a day than a week of ordinary labor—and more importantly, a chance to take part in something that would be talked about for years.
Within an hour, the first wave of townsfolk reached the mountain plateau near the cave entrance.
And then they stopped.
Shadow beasts moved in disciplined lines across the stone, carrying massive crystal chunks toward the waiting caravan. Crystals vanished into its rear… only to reappear moments later as more shadows emerged in perfect formation. No shouting. No chaos. No wasted movement.
It was efficient.
Too efficient.
Some of the townsfolk exchanged confused looks. Others frowned.
Normally, this was where they would earn their fortune—loading, sorting, hauling.
But the work was already being done.
A few turned away, disappointed. Others lingered, unsure what to do with themselves.
Jax stood at the center of it all.
He watched the gathering crowds, the hesitation, the subtle deflation. He understood it instantly.
Handouts weren't what people wanted.
They wanted purpose.
He stepped forward.
"The work isn't here," Jax called out, his voice calm but carrying. "It's in town."
Heads turned.
"I've partnered with a warehouse nearby," he continued. "Crystals still need processing. Sorting. Organization. Production setup. That's where help is needed."
He paused, then added, "And it will be paid. Fairly."
That did it.
The disappointment shifted—into curiosity. Then into resolve.
Jax sealed the caravan, leaving the shadow crews inside the cave to continue mining and staging piles for later transport. With Shadow Matadors standing guard, along with Gryph and Fang, no one questioned the arrangement.
When Jax motioned for those seeking work to follow him—
They did.
By the time the caravan reached the warehouse, nearly fifty townsfolk trailed behind.
The warehouse owner stepped outside, froze, and stared.
"Uh… I wasn't expecting—"
Jax dismounted and walked up beside him. "We're about to unload a lot of crystal."
The owner swallowed.
"I need this organized for mass production," Jax said. "Sorted by type. Stored properly. No exploitation. Good wages. This will be profitable—for all of us."
He met the man's eyes. "Can you handle that? Or do I need to take a more direct role?"
The owner didn't hesitate.
He understood exactly what was being offered.
Opportunity.
Employment.
A future.
He raised his fist—not aggressively, but with a grin.
Jax bumped it.
Deal struck.
The warehouse exploded into motion.
Workers moved with purpose. Crystals were cataloged, sorted, stacked. Teams formed naturally—some stronger laborers, some meticulous organizers. The owner quietly took notes, already identifying who might become permanent staff when expansion began.
When the Vixens finally emerged from the caravan, the warehouse erupted.
Cheers filled the space.
Clapping. Bowing. Shouts of celebration.
There was no mockery in it.
No disbelief.
Because when the alert bells had rung earlier, the announcement had carried a distortion—one that clipped the beginning of the victor's name.
Instead of Jax and the Vixens, the city had heard only:
"The Vixens have cleared the Crystal Cave."
Over and over.
Jax didn't mind.
He never did.
But the Vixens?
They were suddenly rock stars.
Children rushed forward, wide-eyed and breathless. Some mimicked spellcasting. Others swung imaginary weapons. Llandra greeted everyone with grace. Zee and Bunny were overwhelmed but smiling, hugging and shaking hands until their arms ached.
Nyxian stood back for a moment, watching.
She saw Jax—quietly coordinating labor, helping lift crates, discussing logistics with the owner. No applause. No cheers.
Something twisted in her chest.
He deserved more.
She turned sharply toward the crowd.
"That man," Nyxian shouted, pointing. "That man right there is why we cleared the dungeon in record time!"
The warehouse went silent.
Then—
The flood.
Hands reached out. Voices shouted thanks. People surged forward, clapping Jax on the back, shaking his hand, pulling him into brief, awkward hugs. Even children surrounded him, eyes shining.
Jax froze.
Then he laughed.
He looked up at Nyxian, who was grinning like she'd just won a private victory.
He shook his head.
I'll get you back for this later.
For the next two days, Crystalshire buzzed.
New Record in the Crystal Cave.
That was all anyone talked about.
The Vixens' names spread from market stalls to taverns, from workshops to guild halls. When they returned to the inn, the owner refused their coin and upgraded them to the finest suite without hesitation.
"Heroes don't pay," he said simply.
Everywhere they went, people watched.
Some with admiration.
Some with inspiration.
Some with dreams.
Woman power surged through the city like wildfire.
And somewhere beneath the celebration, Jax smiled.
Because the real work?
That had only just begun.