Viola wiped her palms on her trousers and drew her short sword, still amazed from Gaius’s demonstration. She crouched, took a slow breath, and tried to do exactly what he’d told her: pull the affinity of the ground into her mana, then sink that into the blade.

A faint brown shimmer flickered along the steel for an instant—then sputtered out in a harmless puff, scattering like dust on the wind. The sword felt heavier for a heartbeat and then went back to normal. Viola’s shoulders slumped. “Ugh. It won’t stay.”

Gaius grunted. “That’s why it’s training. The blade will drink your mana until you learn to anchor it. Keep at it, but don’t burn yourself dry.”

Ludger, leaning on his knees a few paces away, watched her attempt. Part of him itched to try the same thing—he could already picture channeling that earthen pulse into his fists or armguards. But then his eyes drifted to the small, perfect tower of earth rising beside him. His spiritual core still throbbed with that emptiness, and he could almost feel the class tugging at him, promising more strength if he kept at it.

He let out a slow breath and pressed his palms to the ground again. No. One thing at a time. Every successful push made the earth manipulation sharper, faster, steadier. He could feel the skill creeping up with each repetition, like invisible points stacking in the background. More levels meant more bonuses, more control.

Viola tried again with her sword, brow furrowed. Ludger ignored the flicker of brown light at the edge of his vision and focused on the soil beneath his hands, drawing up another clean tower, brick by brick, until it stood solid at his height.

Gaius watched them both in silence, the corner of his mouth twitching. One grinding, one experimenting. Different paths, same stubborn streak.

Ludger flattened the last tower with a smooth motion, palms sinking back into the dirt. His spiritual core pulsed heavier than before — a deep, low beat that seemed to vibrate up through his ribs. As he pressed his hands down again and drew a new column up in one steady surge, the earth obeyed almost eagerly, rising to his full height without a quiver.

A sudden warmth bloomed in his chest. His breath caught. The rhythm he’d been building for days finally clicked into place, and for an instant he felt the ground’s pulse mesh perfectly with his own. A soft blue shimmer flickered at the edge of his vision.

(Earth Manipulation has reached Lv 11!)

(Geomancer class has reached Lv 05!)

Ludger blinked as the menu shifted, glowing faintly before expanding with the familiar text.

(+6 INT, +3 WIS)

(New Skill Unlocked: Stone Grip Lv 01)

Ludger exhaled slowly, a faint grin tugging at his mouth. Stone Grip. A skill meant for reinforcement — for making sure what he built didn’t crumble under stress. It fit perfectly.

He flexed his fingers, feeling how easily the ground under his palms packed tighter when he willed it. With Stone Grip layered over his manipulation, the column under his hands hardened like forged iron.

Across the yard Viola was still struggling to keep a faint shimmer on her blade. Gaius glanced at Ludger’s new tower and raised a brow but didn’t comment. Ludger let the tower stand and sat back on his heels, hiding his satisfaction under a neutral expression. Another piece in place. Step by step.

Ludger stood, brushing dirt off his palms. The knowledge of the new skill still hummed in his chest, a dense, heavy note like a hidden drum. He took a slow breath and set his hands to the ground again, this time thinking bigger.

The earth under his fingers rolled up in a single surge, not as a tower but as a broad slab. Soil compressed, layered, and rose until a waist-high wall stood between him and the far end of the courtyard. He kept his focus, weaving Stone Grip through the structure like steel rods through concrete. The wall darkened, the grains of soil knitting tighter, harder, until it looked like carved stone.

He stepped back, wiping sweat from his brow. “Let’s see how good this is.”

Ludger lifted one hand, his spiritual core drawing up a familiar, sharper rhythm. A flicker of blue light gathered in his palm; the air cracked as he shaped it into a Mana Bolt and hurled it straight at the wall.

The bolt slammed into the reinforced slab with a sharp report. Dust exploded outward, the wall shuddering but holding for a heartbeat before cracking down the middle. The bolt punched through—but when it struck the ground behind, it left only a shallow scorch instead of a crater.

Ludger exhaled slowly, lowering his hand. “Not bad. Didn’t stop it, but killed most of the force.”

From the side of the yard, Viola had paused her blade-infusing attempts to watch, eyes wide. “You built that and broke it yourself?”

Ludger smirked faintly. “Test run. Better to find the limits now.”

Even Gaius’s brows rose a fraction, the old man’s gravelly voice cutting across the yard. “Hnh. Reinforce, then test. That’s how you do it. Looks like you’re starting to think like a real earthmage.”

Ludger gave the cracked wall a final glance before letting it crumble back into dirt. “Step by step,” he murmured, already feeling ideas forming for the next experiment.

After the wall crumbled back into the courtyard, Ludger stayed crouched, fingers still splayed on the dirt. An idea flickered. He closed his eyes, shaping his mana the way Gaius had shown him, but this time picturing a blade instead of a column.

The ground under his hands shifted, pulling together in a long, narrow line. Soil compressed, grains fusing until a rough sword-shaped mass rose from the earth. As it emerged he poured Stone Grip through it, knitting the structure tighter, hardening it layer by layer until it gleamed with a dull, stony sheen. By the time he lifted it, the crude edges had sharpened to something that looked like a weapon.

He hefted the sword once, feeling the weight pull at his arm. Heavy, but balanced enough to swing. Without a word he turned and offered it to Viola.

“Here,” he said. “Try channeling your mana into this. Might be easier than starting from plain steel.”

Viola took it with both hands, nearly dropping it at first. “What—it’s like holding a hammerhead,” she muttered, adjusting her grip. She closed her eyes, tried to push her mana into the stone. A faint shimmer ran along the blade’s edge for an instant, then faded just like it had on her own weapon.

She opened one eye and looked at him. “It’s heavy. Are you sure there’s any point in making something like this?”

Ludger shrugged, wiping dust from his palms. “Maybe not for fighting. But for practice? It’s already attuned to earth. If you can’t sink your mana into a blade made of the stuff, you’ll know where you’re weak. And if you can, you’ll learn faster.”

Viola frowned down at the crude stone sword, then grinned faintly despite herself. “Feels like training with a boulder.”

“Exactly,” Ludger said dryly. “If you can handle a boulder, a normal blade will feel like a feather.”

Across the yard Gaius watched them both, arms folded, hiding a flicker of approval behind his scowl. The boy was inventing exercises on the fly; the girl was still swinging at them with stubborn grit.

Viola adjusted her stance, both hands wrapped around the rough stone sword. She closed her eyes and breathed the way Ludger had drilled into her, trying to feed her mana into the heavy blade a little at a time instead of all at once. At first the shimmer flickered and died, but on the third attempt it lingered a heartbeat longer along the edge — a faint, gritty glow before fading. Not much, but progress.

She blew out a breath and squared her shoulders. “Okay… again,” she muttered, setting the blade and starting over. The weight dragged at her arms, forcing her to slow down, to steady herself instead of swinging wildly. It was working, if only by inches.

Ludger watched her for a moment, then glanced down at his own gear. The idea of training with weight sparked a familiar memory. He flexed his fingers and smirked faintly. It’s been a while… but I haven’t forgotten.

He crouched, palms pressing to the ground. With a thought, the earth rolled up into compact blocks the size of his fists. He shaped and hardened them quickly, then pressed each one against his red-silver armguards and shin guards. The stone melted and fused into snug weights around the metal, rough but solid. When he stood, his limbs felt heavy, the pull sharpening every movement.

“Training with weights, too?” Viola asked, glancing at him between attempts.

“Something like that,” he said dryly, rolling his shoulders against the added burden. “If you can handle it heavy, you’ll fly when it’s light.”

She gave a tired grin. “Guess you’re not going to make it easy on yourself either.”

“Never do,” Ludger replied, settling into a stance. He raised his hands, the extra weight dragging but forcing his core to tighten, his mana to flow steadier. It felt like coming home to an old discipline.

Across the yard Gaius grunted, but there was no mockery in his eyes this time — only the faint recognition of someone watching two kids invent their own grind.

Gaius stood with his arms folded, watching Ludger work with the added weights on his limbs. The boy crouched, palms pressed to the earth, and a fresh column rose smoothly to his chest. He let it sink back down, then repeated the motion without a single flicker of strain.

Gaius exhaled through his nose. He’s past the point where I can tell him much. There is no point in showing the advanced spells, he will figure it out himself.

“Kid,” he called, his gravelly voice cutting through the quiet. “You’re different. You don’t need me to spoon-feed you. What you should do to improve is going to come to you on its own now. You’re already breaking the steps down faster than I can teach them.”

Ludger looked up, one brow raised but said nothing.

“That said,” Gaius went on, stepping closer, “it’d be wise for you to start trying earth manipulation without your hands. You’ve got the feel for it now — the rhythm, the weight. Work on pushing it out from your feet, your core, your will. Touching the ground every time is a bad habit. You can’t always stop to kneel in a fight.”

He jerked his chin at the dirt. “It’ll be inconvenient as hell at first, but once you get it, you won’t be tied down to surfaces. That’s the next step.”

Ludger flexed his fingers, feeling the heavy stone weights on his arms and legs. He understood immediately what Gaius meant — and the tactical advantage it would bring. “Alright,” he said simply, smirk tugging at his mouth. “I’ll give it a shot.”

Gaius grunted approval and turned away, hiding the flicker of pride behind his scowl. The kid didn’t need much instruction anymore — but the right nudge at the right time could still change everything.

Gaius had just turned away when Ludger’s voice stopped him. “Wait.”

The old mage looked back, brow furrowed. Ludger pushed himself to his feet, brushing grit from his palms. “It might come to me eventually,” he said evenly, “but it’ll still be faster if you give a few demonstrations. Show, don’t just tell. That way we learn quicker, and you can stop wasting time watching us all day.”

One corner of Gaius’s mouth twitched. “Oh? Eager to be rid of me already?”

Ludger gave a small, dry smirk. “More like eager to stop bothering you. The sooner we learn, the sooner you get your peace back.”

Gaius snorted, arms crossing over his chest. “Hnh. And here I thought you two were planning to conquer the second zone of the labyrinth while you’re at it. That’s usually what all the brats talk about.”

Viola perked up immediately, eyes lighting. “Hell yeah, I was thinking about it! We could—”

“No,” Ludger cut her off without raising his voice. “That’s not why we’re here. The labyrinth’s a bonus. We came to Meira to learn from him.” He tilted his head at Gaius. “That’s the point. If we get stronger, the labyrinth will still be there later.”

Viola blinked at him, then exhaled, her excitement dimming into a small pout. “Right. Learning first. Buzzkill...”

Gaius’s brows rose a fraction. He studied Ludger for a moment, then let out a low chuckle. “Hnh. At least one of you’s got priorities straight. Fine. You want a demonstration?” He rolled his shoulders, the old scowl softening just enough to show a spark of interest. “Then watch closely. I’ll show you what the next step looks like.”

Viola straightened, eyes bright again. Ludger only nodded, calm but focused.

Gaius stepped forward without another word. He didn’t crouch, didn’t even roll up his sleeves. He simply planted his boots on the dirt, took one slow breath.

The ground in front of him rippled like water. A thin column rose, straight and clean, then split into two smaller ones, then three, weaving together in a braid of stone before folding back into the earth with a soft hiss. No strain, no flash — just a quiet flex of will, as natural to him as breathing.

Viola’s jaw dropped. “You didn’t even touch it…”

Ludger watched, eyes narrowing. He could feel the way Gaius’s mana filled the courtyard, heavy and steady, but there was no tell, no obvious technique to copy. “That… doesn’t help me a lot,” he muttered dryly. “You’re making it look too easy.”

Gaius barked a rough laugh, the sound rolling out of his chest. “Kid, that’s the point. You don’t get here by memorising my steps. You grind until it’s this natural.” He flexed his knuckles, dust shaking off like rain. “Breathing. Walking. That’s mastery.”

Viola still stared at the bare patch of dirt, eyes wide. Ludger only sighed through his nose, already turning the image over in his mind, trying to reverse-engineer it.

Gaius chuckled again, his grin wolfish. “Don’t worry. You’ll get there. And when you do, you’ll laugh at your own towers too.”

Ludger stepped out into the middle of the courtyard, feeling the weight of the stone bracers on his arms and legs. He exhaled slowly, letting his mana sink into his core the way he’d done a hundred times now — only this time he didn’t crouch or press his palms to the dirt. He pushed the pulse of his mana outward, trying to “grab” the ground with nothing but will.

Nothing happened.

He narrowed his eyes, tried again. A faint tremor rippled under his boots, but it died immediately, like a rope slipping from his fingers. Sweat beaded at his temple. Another push. Another failure. The ground refused to answer without the anchor of his hands.

He blew out a breath and straightened. “Tch. So much for breathing like you,” he muttered.

Gaius only grinned, the deep lines around his mouth creasing. “Told you. It’s a grind.” Then, at Ludger’s look, the old mage cocked his head. “You want to know what else I can do?”

Ludger wiped his hands on his trousers. “Show me.”

Gaius stepped forward and stamped once. The ground rippled, then burst upward as three shapes emerged at his feet — a snarling wolf, a coiled serpent, and a clenched fist, all sculpted from packed earth. They rose smooth and seamless, not a crack between the grains. With a small gesture he hardened them; the dull brown darkened to a steely sheen, edges so polished they caught the morning light like real metal.

Viola’s eyes went wide. “They’re… sculptures.”

“They’re lessons,” Gaius corrected. “Shape. Reinforce. Polish. When you can do all three, then you’re a geomancer.”

He flicked his fingers and the sculptures crumbled back into dust as if they’d never been there. Ludger watched them dissolve, his spiritual core thrumming harder than before. As each demonstration unfolded, little system pings flickered at the edge of his vision:

[Earth Manipulation +10 XP ]

[Stone Grip +10 XP ]

He smirked faintly to himself. Even failing to copy it, just watching was feeding his growth. “Not bad,” he murmured under his breath. “I’ll get there.”

Gaius only chuckled and crossed his arms again, the master and the apprentice framed by the churned earth between them.

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