Two days later…

Kaelin's reaction to their mission report involved all the standard elements they'd expected. There was disbelief, which gave way to acceptance, which led inevitably to the usual blend of admiration and exasperation they were starting to think of as 'congratulafraid.'

"Well done," she said, making a note in their completed contracts. "Your... method for this mission was unorthodox, and could easily have resulted in disaster. But it appears your unique capabilities remained sufficient to the task."

Pyra snorted. "In other words, we won. Therefore, we're the best."

"I wouldn't go that far," Kaelin replied mildly. "But this is a challenging profession. When plans change and you're able to adapt, that's when we say someone belongs in the business. So... congratulations on your success, however it was achieved."

"So," Cinder said slowly. "What's the verdict?"

"A-rank classification, effective immediately." Kaelin stamped their promotion documents with the sort of official finality that demanded the invention of heavy ink stamps. "We'll need to update the handbook to include more details about handling... group assignments with such specialized synergies. But congratulations. You've earned it."

Pyra pumped her fist in a triumphant gesture. "Yes!" Then, in a slightly lower tone, "What does an A-rank classification get us?"

"Access to higher-paying jobs, greater guild support and benefits... and, most importantly, increased respect both within and outside the guild."

They considered this for a few moments, then chorused, "Bragging rights, hell yeah!"

Kaelin regarded them with the long-suffering look of someone who has learned the futility of debate. "That's certainly... one way to phrase it, yes. But there's more to the ranking system than simple notoriety. As you rise within the guild, you gain access to resources that will help you maintain your reputation. Information. Equipment. Allies. These are the foundation of a successful career, not fleeting adulation."

"We'll take that too, please," Pyra said.

"I want double," Kindle added.

"Triple or nothing," Cinder said, with the absolute conviction of someone who has never encountered a deck of cards that liked her.

"We'll take what you give us," Ember said, cutting off further commentary before it could escalate. "Whatever that might be."

"The resources will be made available to you," Kaelin replied, ignoring the others' antics.

"Good enough for me," Ember said. "Anything else?"

"You're scheduled for two weeks of rest before taking on your next contract, assuming no emergencies crop up in the meantime. Enjoy the respite. You've earned that too."

"Time to spend the paycheck, girls!" Pyra said, moving toward the door with the sort of reckless enthusiasm that suggested she was about to break something in her rush to escape.

"Wait," Kaelin said, stopping her just as she reached for the door handle.

"Seriously?" Pyra said. "What now?"

"There are protocols to follow after completing a contract. Even more when you've changed your rank. Paperwork. A lot of it."

Pyra groaned. "I hate paperwork."

"Perhaps, but it's necessary." Kaelin spread her hands in a gesture of helplessness. "If it makes you feel better, I have a reputation for expedited documentation. We'll have you out of here in half an hour. Probably."

Kindle stared at the door wistfully. "So close to freedom..."

"I'll order lunch," Kaelin said reassuringly. "It's easier on a full stomach. Barely."

Ember sighed. "Let's get this over with."

Two hours and seventeen forms later, they stumbled out of Kaelin's office with the glazed expressions of people who had just survived bureaucratic warfare. The guild's main hall buzzed with its usual evening activity—adventurers comparing scars, clerks shuffling papers, and the general chaos of people whose job descriptions included "fight monsters for money."

The conversation died when they entered.

Not completely, but enough to be noticeable. Heads turned in their direction, followed by the sort of whispered discussions that suggested their reputation had preceded them. Again.

"Is it just me," Kindle murmured, "or does everyone keep staring at us?"

"They're staring," Ash confirmed, her analytical mind already cataloging the various expressions directed their way.

Cinder ran a hand through her hair in a gesture that drew attention to her toned physique and athletic confidence. "I guess word of our success has spread."

Pyra nodded. "Of course it has. We kicked that troll's ass."

Ember noted the speculative gazes, the mingled respect and unease in some of the eyes tracking their progress. This wasn't entirely unexpected. Their unconventional approach had generated skepticism initially, but now, it seemed that skepticism was giving way to something new.

Wary admiration? It was a welcome change from outright doubt, and it stirred mixed feelings inside her.

The attention centered not just on their recent triumph, but on the singular nature of their team. Her other selves walked beside her; their every movement was a study of balance and power. They looked like reflections in a shattered mirror, each bearing the hallmark of her unique abilities.

A group of D-rank adventurers clustered near the mission board parted as they approached, creating a clear path to the noticeboard. One of them—a young man with a sword nearly as tall as he was—worked up the courage to speak.

"Excuse me," he said, his voice carrying the careful politeness of someone addressing potentially dangerous wildlife. "Are you the Fractured Flame?"

"That depends," Ember replied. "Are we in trouble?"

"No! No, nothing like that. I just... we heard about the Grakmul contract. Is it true you defeated him in single combat?"

Pyra opened her mouth to correct him, but Cinder stepped on her foot before she could launch into a detailed tactical breakdown.

"We completed the contract," Ember said diplomatically. "The quarry workers are safe."

"Single combat," the young adventurer repeated with obvious awe. "Against Grakmul the Invincible. That's... that's incredible."

"Technically, it was five-on-one combat," Ash said, apparently unable to let the mathematical inaccuracy stand uncorrected.

"Five?" Another adventurer joined the conversation—an older woman whose armor bore the dents and scratches of hard-won experience. "I heard one of you died during the mission."

"Death," Kindle said with the sort of casual tone usually reserved for discussing the weather, "is more of a temporary setback for us."

The older adventurer blinked. "Come again?"

"It's complicated," Cinder said.

"Everything about us is complicated," Pyra added helpfully.

The small crowd that had gathered around them was growing larger. More adventurers drifted over, drawn by the prospect of hearing firsthand details about the infamous Fractured Flame.

"How long have you been adventuring?" someone called from the back of the group.

"Couple months," Ember replied.

The silence that followed suggested this answer had not improved their reputation for being reasonable or explicable.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

"Months," the sword-carrying young man repeated slowly. "You went from unranked to A-rank in months."

"We're fast learners," Kindle said.

"And fast everything else," Pyra added.

"That's..." The older adventurer seemed to be struggling with concepts that didn't fit into her understanding of how careers were supposed to work. "That's not how the ranking system functions."

"We've been told we're special cases," Ash said.

"Special cases," Cinder corrected, "with a tendency to break things we're supposed to be fixing."

"And fix things we're supposed to be breaking," Ember added.

"And occasionally blow things up for tactical reasons," Pyra finished.

"Mostly," Kindle said, "we're just special."

The conversation continued, with more questions being called out from the growing crowd.

"What's your secret?"

Pyra's answer was immediate. "Fires."

There was a long pause. Finally, the sword-carrying young man asked, in the tones of someone who'd been expecting something profound, "What?"

"Fires," Pyra repeated. "Lots of fires. It simplifies things, you know? Oh, and speed. Probably don't want to forget the speed part. Being really, really fast helps too."

The group around them dispersed, drifting away with expressions that suggested they had learned very little by asking. Only the young adventurer with the sword remained.

"Speed and... fire? You really mean that, don't you?"

"Yep," Cinder said.

"It's a bit more complicated than that," Ash pointed out.

"Not by much," Ember said. "We have powers. We use them. Things go our way because we're awesome. See? Still pretty simple."

"Simple, but accurate." Kindle nodded.

The young man considered this, then shrugged and hefted the massive sword up across his shoulders. "Guess that's one way to do it. Thanks for the tips. See you around."

He wandered away, muttering something to himself about fire arrows and speed potions.

"I think," Cinder said, as they watched him vanish back into the crowd, "we just traumatized that poor boy."

"We're good at that," Ember agreed. "You sure we shouldn't apologize?"

"He'll get over it," Kindle assured her.

Pyra nodded. "If he can't deal with a little bit of confusion, how's he going to handle that ridiculous sword?"

The chaos of the guild was giving way to something more familiar—quiet acceptance. The constant ebb and flow of paperwork, bodies, and equipment continued without regard to their presence.

They found an empty table near the mission board and settled into the battered chairs. The guild's familiar smells surrounded them—leather, dust, the faintest hint of magical potions and alchemical experiments.

A serving girl approached their table with the sort of careful professionalism that suggested she'd been drawing straws in the kitchen. She set down five mugs of what might charitably have been called ale, though it bore a suspicious resemblance to muddy water with delusions of grandeur.

"Compliments of the house," she said. "Guild Master Kaelin's orders. Congratulations on your promotion."

"That's very kind," Ember said. "Thank you."

The girl nodded and continued on her rounds, leaving them with their drinks.

"Free ale," Cinder said, "is usually bad ale. I think that's a rule."

"The bad part is what makes it free," Ember agreed.

Pyra took a sip, winced, and set the mug aside. "Rule confirmed."

They drank in companionable silence—each nursing their thoughts and letting the buzz of activity around them fill the empty spaces that words couldn't touch.

"So," a voice said from behind them. "The famous Fractured Flame."

They turned to find a man approaching their table—tall, broad-shouldered, with the sort of elaborate sword that suggested he took himself very seriously indeed. His armor bore the polished gleam of someone who spent more time maintaining it than wearing it into actual combat.

"Marcus Brightblade," he introduced himself with the sort of flourish that suggested he'd practiced the gesture in front of a mirror. "B-rank. Leader of the Iron Hawks."

"Congratulations," Cinder said dryly. "Would you like a medal?"

Marcus's smile tightened slightly. "Actually, I was hoping we might have a word. Professional to professional."

"About?"

"About how a team that's been with the guild for less than a month managed to skip straight to A-rank while the rest of us have been working our way up the proper way."

"We took a job," Ember replied evenly. "We completed it. Same as everyone else here."

"Everyone else follows the rules. The Iron Hawks have been with the guild for years. We did it right. And now we've got a bunch of upstarts showing us up and skipping the queue."

"I'm sorry," Ember said, her tone anything but apologetic. "Is there somewhere in the guild's handbook where it says we can only be this strong if we've paid our dues? Are you questioning our qualifications?"

"I'm questioning your methods," Marcus replied. "See, most of us take years to reach A-rank. We build reputations through consistent performance, careful risk management, and respect for established protocols. But you five show up and suddenly the whole system gets turned upside down."

"Innovation tends to do that," Ash observed mildly.

"Innovation." Marcus made the word sound like a curse. "Is that what we're calling it? Because from where I'm sitting, it looks more like some rich princess paid her way to the top. Tell me, is there anyone you didn't bribe? Any rules you didn't break to get where you are?"

The common room had gone noticeably quieter, conversations dying away as other adventurers sensed potential drama brewing.

Kindle leaned forward in her chair, and for a moment, Ember thought she was about to launch herself at the obnoxious man like a small, ferocious missile of justice.

"Careful," she said, in a voice that was dangerously mild. "You're starting to sound jealous."

"Jealous?" Marcus laughed, but there was an edge to it. "Of what? Your habit of completing missions through methods that would make a berserker blush? Your tendency to leave collateral damage in your wake? Or maybe your charming practice of—"

"Of getting results," Ember interrupted. "Which, last I checked, was the point of being an adventurer."

"Results matter," Marcus agreed. "But so does professionalism. Responsibility. Understanding that our actions have consequences beyond just completing the contract."

"Such as?" Cinder asked, taking another sip of her ale.

"Such as the fact that half the bandits in the eastern territories have given up crime and opened bakeries because they're too terrified to face you again. Such as caravan schedules being thrown into chaos because merchants think every delivery should happen at impossible speeds. Such as the Pest Control Guild filing formal complaints because you've made their entire profession look incompetent."

"Those sound like improvements to me," Pyra said.

"They're disruptions. And disruptions have a way of creating problems that are harder to solve than the original issues."

Ember stood slowly, her golden flames creating small heat mirages that made the air shimmer around her. "Are you finished?"

Marcus took a step back, but his hand remained pointedly near his sword hilt. "I'm just saying that some of us have been working in this industry for years. We understand how things work, why the systems exist, and what happens when someone decides to ignore established protocols."

"And we're saying," Cinder added, also rising from her chair, "that maybe your systems needed ignoring."

"Maybe they needed people who could see past 'that's how we've always done it,'" Kindle continued.

"Maybe they needed actual solutions instead of comfortable routines," Ash finished.

The tension in the room had reached the point where other adventurers were either moving closer to watch the show or edging toward the exits, depending on their appetite for excitement. The serving staff had retreated to safe distances, though several were still close enough to hear the exchange.

Marcus straightened, brushing at the edge of his cloak. "I'm going to make this very clear. I don't like you five, and I don't trust you. But I'm not an idiot. I can see where this is going. Sooner or later, everyone will. You might have the rest of them fooled with your bravado, but when you go too far—and you will—you'll finally understand what it means to be held accountable."

With that, he turned on his heel and strode away, his heavy boots echoing on the wooden floorboards.

Pyra grinned. "Should we set his cloak on fire?"

"No," Ember replied. "Let him go. We've made our point."

"He started it," Cinder pointed out.

"And we finished it," Ember said. She turned to the other adventurers who had been watching the exchange and smiled apologetically. "Sorry about that, folks. Didn't mean to cause a scene."

Muttering and laughter followed as the crowd dispersed, some with glares directed at Marcus's retreating back, while others seemed more amused by the exchange.

Ember looked around the guild's common room and let out a long sigh.

"Yeah," she said quietly. "This was probably inevitable, wasn't it?"

"The clash between old and new ideas?" Ash said. "Between slow and steady progress, and the sudden leap forward we embody? Between conformity and the risks we represent? The potential clashpoints are too numerous to list."

Ember smiled. "I was going to say that being confronted by an asshole was inevitable, but you put it much more poetically."

"This asshole isn't going away," Cinder said. "He and his Iron Hawks have a reputation. And you know what? It's actually a pretty good one, from what I've heard."

Pyra looked at her. "You heard about them?"

"I spend a lot of time hanging around taverns when I'm not with the rest of you. People talk."

"What do they say?"

"It's a mixed bag. Marcus himself is usually the topic of a few chuckles, and his personality doesn't earn him a lot of love. But the group as a whole is well-respected. I know for a fact they've prevented a few bandit attacks, and some of them have racked up monster kills."

"Admirable," Ash said. "In another time and place, perhaps our paths might never have crossed."

"But we're here, and we're rocking the boat." Kindle shrugged. "We're not going to be everyone's friends."

"We don't need to be," Cinder replied. "But it would be nice if we weren't making enemies, you know?"

"I can't imagine he's got much more to say," Ember said. "What happened here was... well, not pleasant, but maybe it's better if we're honest with each other."

"I'm sure he and his team will be happy to send us a fruit basket then," Pyra said sarcastically.

Ember rolled her eyes. "Point taken."

The conversation moved on to safer topics—future plans, the benefits of A-rank status, and the inevitable discussion about exactly whose turn it was to buy the next round of drinks.

And, while their voices eventually blended back into the general bustle of the common room, Ember couldn't shake the feeling that Marcus's parting words were more than an idle threat.

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