Steam rolled across the surface of the natural hot spring, rising in thick, lazy plumes. Mistvale's neutral zone was a hidden sanctuary, tucked away in a deep mountain fissure where geothermal heat met crisp alpine air. Jagged black rocks lined the pool, worn smooth by centuries of mineral-rich water. Elias let out a long, shuddering sigh as he sank up to his chin. Every muscle in his back screamed in relief. For weeks, his body had been a tight coil of tension, vibrating with S-tier light magic that constantly demanded an outlet. Right now, he forced that holy energy to do nothing more than keep his patch of water at a perfect forty-two degrees Celsius. Beside him, the water displaced violently. Jasper descended into the bath like a falling meteor, creating a small tidal wave that splashed over the wooden deck. "Watch the hair, giant," Elias muttered, not bothering to open his eyes. "You have too much hair anyway," Jasper grunted, his massive, heavily muscled shoulders settling against the stone edge. Dark magic, thick and ink-like, swirled lazily around Jasper's forearms before dissolving into the clear water. He let out a deep, rumbling groan that sounded like a tectonic plate shifting. "If anyone asks me to save a village, negotiate a treaty, or cast a single spell today, I am going to throw them into the sun," Jasper declared. "Agreed," Elias said. "We are officially off the clock." "Off the clock" was a sacred phrase. Back in Tokyo, it had been a myth, a hollow promise whispered by middle managers before they dumped another stack of spreadsheets on their desks at 7:00 PM. In this new world, they had vowed to make it a reality, even if they had to fight the gods themselves to keep their weekends free. A soft wooden clatter sounded nearby. Floating on a small cedar tray was an ice-filled bucket holding two massive, frosted glass mugs. Dwarven stout, dark as midnight with a thick, creamy head of foam, waited for them. Jasper reached out with a hand the size of a dinner plate, snatching his mug. "To paid leave," Jasper said, raising the glass. "To paid leave," Elias echoed, his thinner, elegant hand gripping his own mug. They clinked the glasses together with a heavy, satisfying thud. Elias took a long, deep gulp. Cold, bitter, and rich with notes of roasted coffee and dark chocolate, the ale hit his tongue like a blessing. It was infinitely better than the cheap, watered-down drafts they used to choke down at the izakaya near Shinjuku station. "Unbelievable," Jasper breathed, wiping foam from his thick beard. Dwarves really knew how to brew, Elias agreed internally, staring up at the canopy of pine trees. Golden light from the magic-infused lanterns hung from the branches, casting a warm, gentle glow over the pool. Crisp air smelled of damp earth, pine needles, and the clean, sharp scent of sulfur. It was a perfect sensory shield against the chaos of the outer world. Out there, the High Arbiters were likely plotting their next move, trying to force the legendary Light and Dark wielders into an apocalyptic clash. In here, only the immediate conflict of who got the last skewer of grilled meat mattered. Footsteps padded softly along the polished cedar walkway. An elven waitress dressed in a light green yukata approached, her movements fluid and silent. She carried a steaming platter of grilled daggertooth fish, seasoned with local mountain herbs. With a polite bow, she placed the platter on a floating wooden tray and pushed it gently toward them. "Enjoy your stay, honored guests," she murmured, her voice like wind chimes. She bowed again, her long, silver-tipped ears twitching slightly as she turned and glided back toward the main lodge. Jasper watched her depart, his eyes narrowed in deep, pseudo-philosophical appreciation. "Now, see, that is what I call peak fantasy," Jasper whispered. "You are a simple creature, Jasper," Elias said, picking up a skewer. "Simple? No, my friend. I am a purist," Jasper retorted, taking a massive bite of a fish skewer. "Elves have that elegant, ethereal vibe. It is classic. It is timeless." Elias chewed his fish thoughtfully, savoring the salty, savory flavor. "Ethereal is overrated," Elias countered. "They are too delicate. One strong breeze and they look like they might blow away." "And what is your preference, oh wise scholar?" Jasper asked, raising an eyebrow. "Dwarven blacksmith's daughter at the outpost," Elias said without hesitation. "You mean the one with the braided sideburns and shoulders broader than mine?" Jasper laughed, splashing water. "She has character," Elias argued, completely serious. "And more importantly, she can actually lift a keg of beer without using a levitation spell. That is practical beauty." "You just want someone to carry you when you get lazy," Jasper accused. "Obviously," Elias admitted. "Efficiency is key to a successful retirement." Jasper chuckled, the deep sound vibrating through the water. It was hard to believe they were the two most feared entities in the five realms. Zealots on the light side viewed Elias as the Holy Sovereign of Light, a divine savior meant to purge the darkness. Cultists and warlords believed Jasper was the Harbinger of the Abyss, a destructive force meant to swallow the world. In reality, they were just two tired guys who wanted to drink beer and avoid taxes. Silence stretched between them, comfortable and deep. Smoke from the distant kitchen drifted over the rocks, carrying the scent of roasting spices. "Do you think they will ever stop?" Jasper asked suddenly, his tone dropping. He didn't need to specify who "they" were. High Arbiters, the self-righteous pantheon of rulers, were obsessed with their divine balance. They couldn't comprehend a world where Light and Dark magics didn't try to rip each other apart. "Only if we make them stop," Elias replied, his voice quiet but dangerously cold. His lazy, relaxed expression vanished for a fraction of a second, replaced by the calculating mind of a top-tier project manager. "They are operating on an outdated business model," Elias continued, staring at his mug. "They think they can force us into a conflict to maintain their grip on the realms." "We need to show them that we are not their employees," Jasper grunted, his massive hands tightening around his mug. "If they try to force us into a performance review, we burn the office down." "Exactly," Elias agreed. "Our contract with existence is strictly freelance now." Memories of their past lives served as a grim shield against the demands of this new world. They had died as corporate slaves, working themselves to the bone for a company that replaced them before their bodies were cold. Never again would they let anyone else dictate their schedule, their life, or their destiny. If the High Arbiters wanted a holy war, they would have to find other pawns. "We are the worst harbingers of the apocalypse ever," Elias joked, his tone lighter now. "World's most comfortable harbingers," Jasper corrected, raising his empty mug. "Hey, more beer!" Jasper called out toward the wooden walkway. A different waitress, a shy-looking elf with copper hair, rushed over with a fresh bucket of ice containing several sealed bottles of premium dwarven brew. She set the bucket down on the stone edge next to Elias, bowing deeply before scurrying away. "See? Copper hair. That is also a strong contender," Jasper noted, pointing a wet finger. "You have a problem," Elias sighed, shaking his head with a grin. "It is called appreciation of local culture," Jasper shot back. "Sure it is." Elias shifted his weight, the warm water swirling around his waist. He reached his arm out toward the wooden bucket, his fingers tingling with the anticipation of another icy-cold drink. Before his fingers could brush the condensation on the glass, a sudden, unnatural chill sliced through the air. The temperature plummeted so fast that the steam rising from the hot spring instantly turned to frost, crystallizing on their eyelashes. This was no natural cold. Elias froze, his hand hovering inches from the bucket as a familiar, suffocating pressure settled over the entire valley. The warm, sulfur-scented steam seemed to hang motionless in the air, no longer drifting with the breeze. Even the distant sounds of the forest vanished, swallowed by an ominous, dead silence. Jasper sat up, his massive frame tensing as his dark magic flared instinctively, black vapor snapping around his shoulders. "Elias," Jasper warned, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. As Elias reaches for another beer from the ice bucket, the water freezes solid, turning a deep, unnatural shade of necrotic purple.

Chapter 16: Taking a Paid Leave