The morning was slow, and the village of Tlangthar awoke at its own pace. The remnants of the previous night's celebration were being cleared away, though the smell of charred wood and roasted food lingered in the air. Embers smoldered in firepits, and villagers carefully dismantled makeshift tables and decorations. Then, faintly at first, a voice began to sing an old hymn, its melody simple yet haunting:

The world, the world

Man needs Khiuniu

Man needs Sinlung

Man cannot survive alone.

More voices joined, one after another, until the hymn rose like a wave over the square. The shared song seemed to breathe new life into the community. Before long, laughter and cheer filled the air again, and the elders brought out their prized Burden Hog and Iron Bison—symbols of prosperity and unity. Once more, the people gathered to celebrate, drawing strength from the embers of the previous night.

Near the edge of the festivities, Larin stood with Myrith and Lysara, observing the vibrant energy of his people. Myrith's sharp gaze scanned the crowd as if cataloging every movement, while Lysara's expression softened with a faint smile. Larin's thoughts were interrupted by familiar voices.

"Larin!"

He turned to see three figures approaching from the crowd: Ngieri, Gwendon, and Rinku. Their faces were weathered, their eyes sharper than he remembered. Each carried the weight of experience, and though their smiles were genuine, there was a tension in their postures that spoke of hard-won resilience.

Ngieri, with her braided hair tied back tightly and a commanding presence, was the first to speak, her voice steady but carrying a hard edge. "I was sent to the Mogolo Islands in the Luxo Ocean. It was supposed to be a training mission, but the reality was far more brutal. The islands are teeming with life, but it's a violent, unforgiving kind. Creatures twisted by magic, entire villages lost to the sea, and factions fighting over scraps of land. I joined the Tideblades, an elite force specializing in amphibious combat. We fought in the waves, on the shores, and sometimes even beneath the water. The Sinlung Breathing Technique saved my life more times than I can count—it's why I'm still here."

Ngieri's armor was made of reinforced coral and scales, a gift from the Tideblades, its surface etched with glowing runes. Her movements were deliberate, every step grounded in control and strength.

"I've learned to adapt," she said, flexing her hands. "To fight in any environment, no matter how hostile. But the cost… the cost is always high."

Larin nodded solemnly, then turned to Gwendon. His broad shoulders and calm demeanor belied the intensity in his eyes. Gwendon's journey had taken him to the Pamchai and Zima Hills. "I fought alongside the hill tribes and shadow-dwellers of Zima," he said. "The terrain itself is a weapon, but so is the magic that twists it. Entire forests turned into traps, rivers poisoned by rogue mages. I joined the Windstrikers, a unit trained to move silently and strike swiftly."

Gwendon carried a massive glaive forged in the Pamchai forges, its edge gleaming faintly with enchantments that hummed with energy.

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"The Sinlung Breathing Technique has changed me," he continued. "My endurance has doubled, and my strength feels boundless. But the things I've seen… entire families wiped out, villages burned to ash. It's a lot to carry, even now."

Finally, Rinku, whose quiet intensity had always set her apart, stepped forward. Her wiry frame seemed even leaner, her eyes shadowed but alert. "I stayed closer to home," she said quietly. "The archives in Tlangthar. It wasn't the front lines, but it wasn't safe either. The archives hold knowledge that both sides would kill for. We faced infiltration attempts, sabotage, even outright assaults. I joined the Scribes' Blades, a unit tasked with defending the archives and recovering lost knowledge from the battlefield."

Rinku's staff, carved from sacred Xiaxoan wood, pulsed faintly with energy. Her armor, a mix of leather and reinforced metal, bore the marks of close-quarters combat. "The Sinlung Breathing Technique has given me endurance I never thought possible. Hours spent poring over ancient texts, then leaping into battle without missing a beat. But the worst battles were in the mind… the things I learned about the Kirat Empire, about what they've done, what they're planning. It's enough to make you question everything."

Larin looked at each of them in turn, his chest swelling with pride and sorrow. "You've all been through so much. But you're here. We're together again, and that means something."

Ngieri clapped a hand on Larin's shoulder. "We're not the only ones who've grown. You've been through your own trials. You look… different."

Before Larin could respond, Myrith and Lysara stepped forward. The two Auquans had been observing the reunion in silence, their expressions unreadable.

"These are your friends?" Myrith asked, her sharp eyes scanning Ngieri, Gwendon, and Rinku.

Larin nodded. "Ngieri, Gwendon, Rinku. They're more than friends. They're family."

Lysara's bioluminescent eyes lingered on the trio, her voice soft but firm. "You've all seen the edges of war. It's clear in your eyes, in the way you stand. But what's more important is that you've returned. That takes strength."

Ngieri smiled her trademark bright smile. "We've had our share of battles. "

Gwendon nodded. "The hills taught me to endure. No matter what's ahead, we'll find a way."

Rinku's gaze was steady. "And the archives taught me that knowledge is as powerful as any weapon. We're not done yet."

Myrith's expression softened slightly. "You have my respect. Xiaxo is fortunate to have warriors like you."

The conversation turned lighter as the group shared stories of their journeys, but the undertone of their words remained serious. The scars of their experiences were etched into their souls, but they had emerged stronger for it.

As the celebrations swirled around them, Larin looked at his friends and felt a renewed sense of purpose. Together, they had faced horrors that would break most people. Together, they had grown into something greater.

"The road ahead won't be easy," Larin said, his voice steady. "But with all of us together, I know we can face whatever comes."

Ngieri grinned, her usual confidence returning. "We have our stations now, each leading teams. We'll be of much help, even now we have projects upon projects to work on, the defeat of the Kirat Empire is a huge load off our shoulders."

Gwendon's smile was small but genuine. "We've come too far to stop now."

Rinku twirled her staff, a faint glow emanating from its runes. "Let's see what the world has to throw at us next."

Myrith and Lysara exchanged a glance, their expressions thoughtful. The Auquans had come to see Larin and his interesting peoples and magic but also found much hope in the people of Xiaxo so far. These young warriors carried the weight of their people's struggles, but they also carried hope. It was a rare and precious thing.

As the sun climbed higher into the sky, the celebrations continued. But for Larin, Ngieri, Gwendon, and Rinku, the day was more than a reunion. It was a promise—to themselves, to their people, and to the land that had shaped them. Whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together.