The sea breeze rolled over the quiet island, bringing with it the scent of salt and pine. Ryuuji stood on the newly built wooden walkway that connected his home to a circle of quaint stone cottages nestled beneath the trees. The sun was just dipping below the horizon, dyeing the sky in hues of gold and crimson.
Behind him, the laughter of a small group echoed through the clearing—Kiko chasing a small spark of magical light, her little horns peeking out from beneath her sun hat, while Elysia watched fondly with a wooden bowl of sliced fruit in her lap.
Today was different. It was more than another peaceful day on the island. Today, two of Ryuuji's closest friends had finally come home.
Duncan sat cross-legged on a sturdy bench near the central firepit, polishing his sword with meticulous care. His dwarf-made armor, battered and full of stories, rested beside him. Sierra stood not far off, helping one of the new villagers raise a drying rack for herbs. The Cyclone had traded her battle gear for a flowing tunic, but the sharp glint in her eyes remained the same.
They had arrived only two days ago, and already, their presence felt like a missing puzzle piece finally returned.
"I still can't believe you built all this," Duncan muttered as Ryuuji approached. "I remember when you couldn't tell the difference between cabbage and lettuce."
Ryuuji grinned. "And I remember when you thought swords were better than hammers."
"They are better," Duncan said stubbornly, then chuckled. "But maybe this place is better than either."
Ryuuji sat beside him. "It's not just me anymore. Jarred and Marla helped expand the western field. We've got some locals too—people from scattered villages, traders who gave up the road, even an old couple who just wanted somewhere quiet."
The people Duncan referred to were original settlers Ryuuji had welcomed since returning from his journey. There was Thom, a retired caravan guard who now spent his days teaching Kiko how to set snares; Mira, a middle-aged herbalist with a talent for storytelling; and the timid but brilliant carpenter twins, Len and Lara, who'd taken to designing elegant little cottages with grass roofs and magical insulation runes.
Sierra joined them, wiping her brow. "You weren't joking, Ryuuji. You really meant it when you said you'd build a home. It's not just peaceful here—it's healing."
He nodded, eyes trailing across the gathering. "After everything… I needed it. And I think we all did."
That night, Ryuuji lit a bonfire in the center of the village. Kiko sat curled up in Elysia's lap, her eyes sparkling as flames danced in her pupils. Jarred poured cups of spiced root tea, while Marla handed out freshly baked bread. The smell of grilled fish wafted through the air.
Villagers gathered, some sitting on stumps, others cross-legged on soft moss. The fire crackled, casting long shadows across familiar faces.
Ryuuji stood. The flames flickered behind him, framing his silhouette in gold.
"I don't make speeches often," he began, rubbing the back of his neck. "But… I wanted to say something."
The clearing quieted.
"When I first came to this world, I was scared, lost, and angry. I was a farmer and a martial arts geek. I had no idea how to fight with a sword, no idea what mana was, and definitely no idea how to lead anyone."
He glanced at Sierra and Duncan, who gave small nods.
"I fought for a long time. Too long, maybe. And when it was over… I ran. I ran because I didn't want to be a weapon anymore."
He looked down, then smiled.
"But I still wanted to protect people. Just… in a different way."
A few murmurs of agreement came from the crowd. Mira placed a hand over her heart.
"This village—this island—isn't just mine. It's for everyone who's tired of fighting, who's tired of pretending, who just wants to live."
He turned toward Sierra and Duncan. "And for my friends… who I'll keep searching for, until we're all together again."
Elysia clapped softly. Others joined in, the applause warm and real.
Later, under the stars, Ryuuji sat with Elysia on the porch of their home. Kiko had already fallen asleep inside, her arms wrapped around her plush dragon toy.
"She's growing fast," Elysia murmured.
"She is," Ryuuji agreed. "And I want her to grow up around people who know peace… not war."
Elysia leaned against him. "You've built something beautiful, Ryuuji."
He held her hand. "Not alone."
In the distance, the bonfire still flickered, and laughter rang through the night.
And so the village grew—not just in size, but in spirit. With every new stone laid, every vegetable planted, every smile shared, Ryuuji's dream moved forward.
The hero wasn't done yet.
But now… he was finally home.