Ludger left Aronia’s shop with the last of the tea’s warmth still in his chest. The streets were brighter now, filled with the smell of bread and the clatter of carts. By the time he reached his own home, the noise had thinned again, replaced by the steady rhythm of birds in the eaves.

He pushed open the gate and stepped into the yard.

Arslan was there, shirt clinging to his back with sweat, sitting on the low fence with a whetstone in hand. His training sword leaned against the post beside him. The heavy drills had stopped for now; he was running the stone along the edge in slow, deliberate strokes, pausing to test it with his thumb. A jug of water sat at his feet.

It looked like a break, but Ludger could see the tension still in his father’s shoulders—muscle memory humming even while he sat still. The man wasn’t just keeping himself sharp; he was trying to grind something invisible down with every pass of the stone.

Ludger leaned against the doorframe, hands in his pockets, watching for a moment. Planning to sharpen his edge for a while, huh.

He smirked faintly. If he used his head half as hard as he swung that sword, he’d probably make even more progress. Brute force gets you far, but thinking gets you further.

Arslan glanced up at him, catching the look, but didn’t say anything. The sound of whetstone against steel filled the quiet yard, the two of them breathing the same warm afternoon air—one honing a blade, the other weighing how best to sharpen himself.

Ludger wandered closer, hands still in his pockets. “Dad,” he said, nodding at the whetstone. “You know how much the tavern’s made in the last two months?”

Arslan paused mid-stroke and glanced up. “Your mother’s got the coin put away somewhere safe,” he said. “Last I checked it was around twenty gold. Place has been packed since word got around you were out there fighting labyrinth monsters. Folks came in hoping for news, and a lot of them came hoping to get patched up for free.” He smirked faintly. “Free healing brings in paying customers. Never underestimate it.”

Ludger raised his eyebrows. “Twenty gold…”

Arslan chuckled and went back to running the stone along the blade. “What kind of scheme are you cooking up now, Luds? Planning to buy new gear? Hire a bard to sing about you? Or is this another one of your secret training plans?”

Ludger gave him a dry look. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Arslan laughed under his breath, the sound like gravel shifting. “I would. Every time you ask about money, something explodes or gets fixed. Which is it this time?”

Ludger only smirked, eyes drifting to the yard. “Guess you’ll see.”

Arslan shook his head, smiling despite himself. “Just don’t burn the whole twenty before your mother finds out. I’m not taking that blame.”

The whetstone rasped again, the sound blending with their shared quiet as the afternoon sun slanted across the yard.

Ludger didn’t answer his father’s teasing; he just let a small smirk ghost across his face and wandered back inside. The numbers were already lining up in his head.

He’d already struck a deal with Aronia that morning: five mana potions a day, each one ten silver coins. Not cheap, but she promised they’d be stronger and cleaner than the ones he’d been choking down in the labyrinth. If he wanted to push his earth magic the way he planned, he’d burn through them fast.

Which meant he’d need more coin. A lot more coin.

He sat at the kitchen table, absently drumming his fingers while the thought took shape. Maybe it’s time to start another healing streak, he mused. Offer a discount for customers at the tavern, pull in crowds again. That would cover the potions.

But there was another angle too. If I’m going to keep relying on Aronia’s brews, I should invest in her shop—upgrade her equipment, stock her shelves. She’d make better potions, I’d get better prices.

He leaned back, staring at the ceiling. She probably wouldn’t accept the idea, though. Half-dryads and ‘patrons’… bad history there. And she likes her independence.

The house was still and quiet around him. Outside, he could hear Arslan’s whetstone rasping, steady and patient. Inside, his own plans were beginning to grind just as steadily—ways to train harder, earn more, and build something bigger without spooking the people who helped him.

He allowed himself a small, dry smile. Always another problem to solve.

Ludger let the idea of investing in Aronia’s shop drift to the back of his mind. She’d made it clear enough she didn’t want the kind of attention that came with bigger premises or “patrons.” For now, better to let her keep her quiet corner and just pay for the potions straight.

He was still sitting at the kitchen table, lost in thought, when the steady rasp of a whetstone outside stopped. A moment later Arslan stepped in through the back door, wiping his hands on a rag. Without the clatter of his mother moving around or Viola’s voice filling the room, the house felt almost too quiet.

Arslan poured himself a cup of water and leaned against the counter. “So,” he said, watching Ludger over the rim, “what happened out there?”

Ludger looked up. “You didn’t ask before.”

“I didn’t,” Arslan said simply. “Your mother and Viola were here. Didn’t want to stir her up more than she already was. But now it’s just us.” He raised an eyebrow. “Tell me.”

Ludger had been expecting this sooner or later. The memory of the labyrinth—the elementals, the cloaked figures, the fake walls—rose up fresh again.

He drew a slow breath. “It was supposed to be training. Turned into something else.”

Arslan’s eyes narrowed slightly but he didn’t interrupt, waiting for his son to go on.

Ludger laid it all out—the weeks under Gaius, the second zone’s iron elementals moving like trained hounds, the cloaked figures slipping through stone, the fake walls and orders to “find the targets.” He didn’t spare details, only kept his voice low and even.

Arslan listened without interrupting. By the time Ludger finished, the water in his father’s cup had gone still and forgotten. His eyes, though, stayed sharp—no flicker of fatigue, just the steady look of a man turning pieces over in his head.

He leaned back against the counter, jaw tight. “Could be a lot of things,” he said finally. “Could be someone aiming at Viola. Could be somebody testing you. Could also just be a new crew of scavengers pushing into the labyrinth and seeing who they can scare off.”

He rubbed at the back of his neck, frowning. “I can’t say for certain which. But the way you describe them…they’re organized. That worries me more.”

Ludger watched him quietly. “So?”

Arslan’s gaze stayed on some distant point, still thinking. “So we stay sharp. We don’t assume every shadow is an assassin, but we don’t walk blind either.” His eyes flicked back to Ludger, the edge softening a little. “You did right getting the three of you out.”

The house was quiet around them, just the sound of the clock ticking in the next room. Ludger felt the weight of his father’s words settle—no easy answers, only vigilance.

“I’ll reach out to some people,” he said. “Friends, old allies. A few still owe me favors.” His eyes stayed in the middle distance, as if already scanning a map of names and debts. “Can’t promise I’ll find anything concrete, but I’ll try. Quietly.”

Ludger tilted his head. “Quietly?”

Arslan nodded once. “I’m also going to contact Lord Torvares. He’s got eyes in places even the guilds doesn’t. But I won’t tell Viola about it—not until I have something worth telling. No sense stirring her up or making her a target while she’s still figuring herself out.”

He rubbed a thumb along the edge of the counter, a habit when he was thinking hard. “If someone is moving pieces in that labyrinth, we’ll know soon enough. Until then, keep training, keep your head low, and don’t show all your cards.”

Ludger leaned back in his chair, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth despite the weight of the conversation. “Sounds like you’ve still got some fight left off the training yard.”

Arslan’s eyes flicked to him, a dry glint there. “Always.”

The kitchen fell quiet again, but the silence felt different now—less empty, more like the pause before the next move in a long game.

Ludger stayed seated after his father left the kitchen, staring at the empty teacup in front of him. The house was quiet again, but his thoughts weren’t.

I’ve got earth magic now. A powerful class. Skills that aren’t just party tricks.

At first, when he’d left for Meira City, the plan had been simple: train, survive, maybe line up a few reliable allies to watch their backs in the labyrinth. That was it. Stay small. Stay unnoticed.

But the last two months had changed that. Cloaked hunters. Rigged elementals. politics spilling into dungeon floors. His own growth.

Having a handful of friends isn’t enough, he thought, jaw tightening. If someone wants to pull strings on us, I need more than reflexes and luck. I need power. Money. Influence.

His eyes drifted to the small ledger sitting on the shelf—a list of the tavern’s earnings his mother kept. Twenty gold sitting there already. Not much in the long game, but a start.

There was one obvious way to turn it into something bigger. One organization that had power, money, and influence by design.

A guild, he thought. Not just being another name on the roster—building one. Or taking one. Something that can’t be ignored.

The idea settled into him like a stone clicking into place. Dangerous, ambitious, but it felt right.

He stood up, pushing the chair back softly. If I’m going to climb, it’s time to plan the next rung.

The kitchen was still. Outside, the sound of his father’s whetstone drifted through the open window, a steady rasp like a clock counting down.

Name: Ludger

Level: 41 (2,450 / 4,100)

Current Job: Cook (Lv 35 – 620 / 3,600)

Current Class: Pugilist (Lv 41 – 1,300 / 4,200)

Health: 1,590 / 1,590

Mana: 3630 / 3630

Stamina: 2830 / 2830

Strength:

167

Dexterity: 186

Intelligence: 316

Vitality: 159

Wisdom: 363

Endurance: 283

Luck: 90

----------------------------------------

Classes & Jobs Skills

Pugilist Lv 41 (+2 STR, +2 VIT/level)

[Hard Fists Lv 35]

[Iron Guard Lv 27]

[Quick Fists Lv 12]

[Straight Cannon Lv 03]

[Quick Kicks Lv 03]

[Bone Breaker Lv 01]

[Bodyslam Lv 01]

[Headbutt Lv 01]

[Shatter Palm Lv 01] (new)

Cook Lv 35 (+1 DEX, +1 INT, +1 WIS/level)

[Knife Handling Lv 30]

[Seasoning Sense Lv 22]

[Fire Control Lv 19]

[Food Preservation Lv 18]

[Dish Presentation Lv 15]

[Quick Cooking Lv 05]

[Brewing Lv 05]

[Butchery Lv 01]

Mage Lv 33 (+2 INT, +2 WIS/level)

[Create Water Lv 28]

[Tinder Lv 20]

[Dust Lv 14]

[Cold Wind Lv 14]

[Mana Pulse Lv 11]

[Fireball Lv 01]

[Stone Arrow Lv 01]

Swordsman Lv 31 (+2 STR, +2 DEX/level)

[Basic Swordplay Lv 22]

[Parry Lv 15]

[Quick Thrust Lv 13]

[Counter Stance Lv 03]

[Guard Break Lv 11]

[Counter Swing Lv 01]

[Cross Slash Lv 01]

Sage Lv 34 (+2 INT, +4 WIS/level)

[Mana Bolt Lv 25]

[Mana Wall Lv 06]

[Spiritual Core Lv 32]

[Meditation Lv 11]

[Mana Armor Lv 01]

[Mana Arrow Lv 01]

[Arcane Arrow Lv 01]

Druid Lv 24 (+3 INT, +3 WIS/level)

[Healing Touch Lv 36]

[Root Snare Lv 01]

[Herbal Whisper Lv 01]

[Plant Growth Lv 01]

[Verdant Shield Lv 01]

Bard Lv 09 (+1 INT, +1 WIS, +1 DEX/level)

[Song of Ease Lv 16]

[Battle Hymn Lv 01]

Courier Lv 24 (+1 DEX, +3 END/level)

[Dash Lv 25]

[Quickstrike Lv 21]

[Focused Stride Lv 01]

[Stamina Regen Lv 14]

[Stamina Resilience Lv 01]

Assassin Lv 21 (+2 DEX, +2 END, +3 LUK/level)

[Silent Steps Lv 25]

[Backstab Lv 04]

[Dual Wielding Lv 01]

[Knife Throwing Lv 01]

[Camouflage Lv 01]

Tactician Lv 9 (+3 INT, +3 DEX/level)

[Tactical Insight Lv 14]

[Battlefield Analysis Lv 04]

Teacher Lv 10 (+3 INT, +3 DEX/level)

[Dissection of Knowledge Lv.11]

[Student Insight Lv.11]

[Guiding Words Lv.11]

Geomancer Lv 14 (+6 INT, +3 WIS/level)

[Earth Manipulation Lv 15]

[Stone Grip Lv 12]

[Quicksand Lv 01]

Later that evening, Ludger sat cross-legged on his bed with the window cracked open. Cool night air drifted in. The numbers stared back at him in neat columns: mana high, INT and WIS climbing past anything he’d ever imagined.

He leaned back, exhaling through his nose. I’m starting to look more like a mage than anything else, he thought. At least on paper.

Yet the scars on his knuckles and the calluses across his palms told a different story. All the hours of fists, footwork, and kicks hadn’t gone anywhere. I’m not half bad up close either, he reminded himself. He could still break cores with his hands, still drop an elemental with a well-timed strike.

His eyes drifted to the city beyond the window, lamplight flickering like a field of fireflies. Maybe I could use this—my reputation, my skills—to start something bigger. A guild of my own. The idea had been tugging at him all day, like a thread in the back of his mind. Power, money, influence. A way to protect the people around him before anyone else tried to pull strings.

But then the other side of it surfaced—quieter, heavier. Would that be enough? A name and a roster didn’t stop cloaked killers. Not without the right people, the right strategy, the right foundation.

He drummed his fingers against the paper, the faint smile on his lips not quite reaching his eyes. First build myself. Then the guild.

The room was quiet except for the soft city sounds outside, and the flicker of plans he wasn’t ready to say out loud yet.

Ludger closed the ledger and pushed it aside. The numbers would keep. The guild idea would keep. All of it was just noise until he handled the one thing in front of him.

First things first, he thought, flexing his hands. If I’m going to lead anyone, if I’m going to be more than just another name with a high mana pool, I need to prove I can win where it counts.

His mind replayed the yard from that morning—Viola’s blade crashing against Arslan’s sword, the heat of his father’s Overdrive, the way each strike had pushed her back no matter how hard she rooted herself. Experience, power, refinement.

Defeating Father at his own game. Close combat. That is the first real step.

It wasn’t about pride, not really. It was about having the reflexes and instincts carved into him so deeply that even assassins in the dark wouldn’t matter. About being a fighter first, not just a mage who happened to punch.

He leaned back, staring at the ceiling, the corner of his mouth quirking into a dry smile. Once I can beat him head-on, then I’ll start thinking about building a guild. Until then, training.

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