Two uneventful days passed as the small group of mercenaries traveled from deep in the Whitestone Mountains toward the fortress city of Highwarden. At night, Edgar spared some time to tutor Anthony in basic swordsmanship as well as offer him some cultivation pointers that would be universally useful.

On the morning of the third day, Edgar led the group up onto a rocky hilltop, stopping at the summit with a satisfied smile as he gestured one strong arm toward the distance. When Anthony followed the older man's gaze, his breath caught as he took in the magnificent sight.

“The Warden…” The words slipped from the young man’s lips in a hushed whisper as he continued to stare. A proud, toothy grin spread across Elara’s face at his reaction. She stood a bit taller as she joined him in glancing toward the distant city.

Silhouetted against the distant horizon stood the tall stone figure of a valiant hero, gripping a heavy silver shield high in defiance against those who would threaten his city. The shield gleamed brilliantly in the morning sun, a beacon guiding weary travelers toward the safety of this powerful place.

It was the statue of the Warden, perched atop the raised plateau that held Highwarden itself—the very reason for the city's name. As Anthony studied the features of the famous Warden, a feeling of longing stirred in his chest as he was reminded of the man’s story.

He turned to face Edgar while asking a question, but his gaze quickly wandered back toward the statue as he spoke the words.

“Is it true that the Warden rose to the highest realm of cultivation? Was he really a Peak Realm body cultivator?”

Edgar rubbed a calloused hand across the thick gray stubble on the tip of his chin, joining the young man in gazing at the brilliant statue for a moment before shrugging casually.

“Who knows? The way the story is told, after a lifetime of cultivation, the Warden was bitterly trapped in the Mastered Realm. He stayed in the same place for nearly twenty years, until giving up toward the twilight of his life. He was already an old man when the demon invasion came—before this city even had its name. At the height of the siege, when destruction of his home seemed inevitable, the Warden finally shattered the bottleneck that had plagued him for decades.”

Anthony was eager for the man to continue, but Edgar took a long draw of water from his flask. Slowly putting it away and wiping one sleeve across his face with a knowing smile before finally continuing.

"They say he ascended to the pinnacle of power in the city's darkest hour. Then, with newfound strength, he stormed out the northern gates, leading a desperate charge that succeeded in breaking the siege and saving Highwarden.”

Anthony’s heartbeat quickened as he listened to the famous story. Even though he’d heard it many times before, his grip still tightened around the hilt of his sword as he got caught up in the tale, trying to imagine what it would feel like to wield such immense power.

Garren stepped up beside Edgar and Anthony, his gaze lingering longingly on the gleaming silver shield in the statue's hands as he joined the conversation.

“The Warden's shield, cultivation journals, and techniques still exist within the city lords vaults. Once a year, there’s a tournament for young cultivators, and the winner is granted a copy of a single technique of their choice. That was one of the main reasons I came to Highwarden, but… unfortunately I was never strong enough to win first place.”

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After Garren finished speaking, Edgar ended the break, urging the group forward once again. The main road leading to Highwarden was the busiest Anthony had ever seen. Merchant carts overflowing with goods moved in and out of the city, and while most of the inhabitants were human, a multitude of different races bustled about the area.

The group descended into the valley and climbed the slope toward the raised city, finally reaching the massive gates around midmorning. A long line of people stretched before them, waiting to enter.

Without hesitation, Edgar led the group past the crowd, bringing them to a smaller gate beside the main entrance. A city guard clad in clean blue armor exchanged a few words with Edgar, carefully inspecting the token he presented before nodding firmly as he ushered them inside.

Noticing Anthony’s curiosity, Elara leaned close to his ear, her breath warm against his neck as she whispered a few sentences, “Any Refined Realm cultivators who’ve completed missions for the city are given Highwarden tokens. They come with all kinds of benefits, including priority access.”

Realization dawned on Anthony’s face as he glanced at Edgar with newfound appreciation. Strength commanded respect—it was no surprise that the city would extend special privileges to its most capable warriors.

They moved through the bustling cobblestone streets toward the martial district, where The Iron Fang mercenary troop rented a medium-sized building to use as their headquarters.

The two-story structure housed sleeping quarters upstairs, while the first floor featured a large meeting hall and several training rooms. Above the double doors leading into the building from outside, an intricately painted sign in bold red lettering read "THE IRON FANGS"

Edgar turned to Anthony once they reached the main hall, his tone firm but welcoming.

“This is your home now. The people in this mercenary troop are your family, and I expect you to put their interests above all others—just as they will do the same for you. There’s a martial auction in a few days, where we’ll try to find you a suitable sword art to advance your training. Until then, follow Elara’s orders. Welcome to The Iron Fangs. Dismissed!”

Edgar, Belle, and Garren wasted no time to head to their respective rooms to unpack and freshen up. Meanwhile, half a dozen Iron Fangs members lingering in the meeting hall turned their attention toward Elara’s group, watching them closely as they entered.

“Well, well… looks like little Miss Elara found herself some teammates. Well done, cutie pie!”

A lithe female figure lounged on the couch near the entrance, her voice carrying a teasing lilt. Anthony’s interest piqued as he watched the attractive girl slowly rise from her seat.

As she straightened to her full height, two gray-and-white cat ears perked up from the silky golden hair cascading down her back. When she noticed Anthony staring, a playful smile spread across her glossy pink lips. She stepped up beside him, twirling her body gracefully as her long tail slid across his stomach.

“Ahem!”

Elara loudly cleared her throat, stepping between Anthony and the cat-girl with her hands planted firmly on her hips. Her tone was anything but amused.

“Hello, Leona… This is Anthony and Pom. They’re new members of The Iron Fangs and have already joined my team, so keep your hands to yourself.”

Leona pursed her lips, her gaze lingering on Elara before a mischievous glint lit up her eyes. Her smile widening.

“Of course! No hands—just like you wanted.”

The tip of Leona’s tail suddenly snaked its way between the openings in Anthony’s armor. His eyes went wide as the furry appendage began to tickle his side, sending an unexpected jolt through his body. Before he could react further, Elara sprang forward and batted the grey and white tail away.

“Why do you always have to be so troublesome? Can’t you be serious for once?” the half demon girl grumbled.

Leona sighed dramatically before straightening, extending a hand toward the newcomers.

“If I must… Good to meet you both! I’m Leona.” She turned, gesturing toward the five other figures in the room. “And these are my lovely teammates.”

One by one, the other Iron Fangs members stepped forward to introduce themselves.