After a short rest to catch their breath and shake the frost from their clothes, the group pressed onward into the second zone.

The stairway sloped downward, cut into the ice itself — smooth, unnatural, each step glowing faintly with pale blue. Their torch sputtered as the air grew heavier, the temperature dropping with every meter they descended.

When they reached the bottom, the corridor widened — dramatically.

Ludger slowed his pace, eyes scanning the space. The narrow tunnels of the first zone opened into a vast subterranean hall that stretched beyond their torchlight. The ceiling arched high overhead, shrouded in mist. It felt less like a cave now and more like the ruins of a city swallowed by winter.

The walls were still encased in ice, but beyond the layers, Ludger caught glimpses of something else — rectangular patterns, faint outlines of brickwork buried beneath the frost.

He narrowed his eyes, stepping closer. Those are manmade walls…

This labyrinth wasn’t just a natural formation. It was built over something — maybe long before the frost had ever come. He felt an itch in his curiosity, the kind that only grew stronger the more he tried to ignore it. He crouched slightly, reaching a hand toward the ice—

“Don’t touch that.”

Kharnek’s voice snapped him out of it. The chieftain’s stance was ready assumed. “The first one’s coming,” he said.

Ludger straightened, eyes darting to the center of the tunnel.

The ice under their feet began to crack. Thin lines of blue light spiderwebbed outward, and a deep, groaning noise rolled through the floor. Brynja raised her staff, mana lighting up in anticipation.

Then the ground erupted.

A massive shape burst upward, shards of ice scattering like glass shrapnel. At first it looked like a massive skeleton dragging itself free from the earth, but as it rose, the froststeel around it began to expand — then reform.

The metal flowed over the bones, layering and hardening until it resembled armor. Plates of translucent ice sealed over joints, shoulders, and chest, every layer pulsing faintly with cold mana.

By the time it stood to full height, it towered a full two meters tall.

The thing’s presence alone made the air vibrate. Its skull was hidden beneath a jagged helm of solid ice, its empty sockets burning with blue flame. In one arm it held a long ice spear — nearly as tall as it was — and in the other, a tower shield as thick as a slab of stone.

Ludger stared for a long second, his breath misting out between his teeth.

“Calling that a skellie feels wrong,” he muttered under his breath. “That’s an armored nightmare.”

Kharnek chuckled, though his tone was tight. “Aye. That’s what happens when the labyrinth starts getting serious.”

Ulf readied his axe beside him, and Brynja murmured a spell under her breath.

Ludger tightened his armguards, his earth mana beginning to hum in response. The fight so far had been manageable — but this one was different. The sheer pressure the creature radiated wasn’t something the first zone could’ve prepared them for.

He glanced once at the brick-like pattern behind the ice, then back at the armored monster stepping forward, its spear scraping across the floor with a sound like a frozen scream.

“Guess the tour’s over,” Ludger said quietly. “Time to get to work.”

Kharnek grinned savagely. “About damn time.”

The frost-armored giant took its stance, the tip of its spear gleaming in the cold light — and then, without warning, it charged.

Kharnek cracked his neck, then rolled his shoulders as the frost-armored giant advanced, its heavy steps echoing through the cavern like drumbeats.

“Stay back, boy,” he said, his tone low but steady. “You want to learn how to clear a labyrinth? Then watch and learn how a real Northerner handles one.”

Ludger blinked. “You’re going to fight that barehanded?”

Kharnek grinned — a sharp, wolfish grin. “Weapons are for when I’m tired.”

Before anyone could stop him, he strode forward, the sound of his boots crunching over the frost cutting through the silence. The armored skeleton raised its massive tower shield, lowering its stance like a seasoned warrior.

The air between them thickened with cold anger and intent.

Then Kharnek moved.

He met the charge head-on, his massive frame colliding with the armored hulk like two avalanches clashing. The shockwave rattled through the floor, shards of ice splintering outward.

The frost giant swung its spear in a low arc, the blade shrieking against the ground as it came up toward Kharnek’s ribs. The chieftain twisted just enough — the weapon glanced off his forearm, leaving a shallow cut that immediately steamed in the freezing air.

Kharnek snarled and drove a punch into the monster’s shield. The impact cracked the ice plating, spiderwebs spreading across its surface.

The creature countered fast — unnaturally fast — thrusting its spear again. Kharnek ducked under it and hammered a blow into the frost paladin side, the hit so heavy it sent the monster stumbling two steps back.

The ground itself groaned under the force of every impact.

Ludger watched, brow furrowed, half in disbelief, half in admiration. He’s not even using Rage Flow… he’s just pure muscle and technique.

Kharnek sidestepped another thrust, then slammed both fists against the monster’s shield in quick succession — crack! — the sound reverberated through the hall like thunder. The shield splintered, froststeel shards scattering across the floor.

The armored skeleton recoiled, raising its spear for a desperate counterstrike, but Kharnek caught the weapon mid-thrust, his hand closing around the shaft like an iron vice. With a roar, he ripped it from the monster’s grasp and hurled it aside, the spear shattering against the wall.

Then, before the creature could react, he stepped in and drove a single, brutal punch straight through its chestplate.

The armor fractured.

The blue fire in the skeleton’s eyes flickered once, then went out. The entire frame crumbled inward, collapsing into a heap of broken froststeel and ice dust at Kharnek’s feet.

He stood there for a moment, chest rising and falling, steam curling from the shallow cuts across his forearms. His knuckles dripped with melted frost.

Then he turned his head toward Ludger and grinned — wide, feral, proud. “That’s how you clear a floor.”

Ludger raised an eyebrow. “You call that a duel? Looked more like you were demolishing a fortress.”

Kharnek laughed, the sound booming off the walls. “A fortress falls the same way as a man — you just hit it hard enough.”

He kicked one of the froststeel shards toward Ludger’s feet. “Go on, scholar. Study that. Maybe next time you can teach me a trick.”

Ludger smirked faintly, crouching to inspect the remains. “You might be surprised.”

Kharnek snorted and wiped his bleeding knuckles on his fur vest, still smiling. “I’ll hold you to that.”

The echo of their laughter lingered in the cold air, mixing with the faint hiss of melting frost — the sound of a labyrinth that, for once, looked like it might have learned to fear something inside it.

The remains of the frost paladin steamed faintly, heat rising from the shattered armor as it slowly melted back into the ice. Among the wreckage, one shard caught Ludger’s eye.

It wasn’t like the others.

Most froststeel fragments were the size of a coin, dull blue and faintly glowing. But this one—this one was bigger . Nearly the length of his hand, jagged and weighty, its glow deep and steady like a captured ember of winter.

Ludger crouched, brushing away the slush and lifting it carefully. The cold bit into his glove immediately. He turned the shard in his hand, watching the mana flow within it—slow and alive.

“Well,” he muttered, “you’re worth more than of the small stuff, that’s for sure.”

Kharnek wiped his knuckles clean on the pelt at his shoulder, glancing over. “Good piece?”

“More than good,” Ludger said, still examining the light refracting through it. “Three times the size, stronger mana density too. A smith could forge a knife out of just this much if they knew what they were doing.”

The thought lingered longer than it should have. Froststeel like this wasn’t just rare—it was valuable. In the Lionsguard hands, a single shard of this size should buy enough steel to arm and armor an adult.

Still… he frowned.

I haven’t seen any shipments like this reach the Lionsguard yet.

He looked toward Kharnek, who was cracking his neck and checking the next passage. The man hadn’t even glanced at the shard twice.

Ludger’s fingers tightened around the crystal. He’s holding back.

It wasn’t suspicion, not really. Just observation. The northerners hadn’t sent most of their froststeel shipments south yet. Kharnek was still watching, weighing whether this alliance was worth bleeding for. Trust wasn’t cheap, and the kind of froststeel that came from monsters like this wasn’t something he’d risk without being sure of the return.

Can’t blame him, Ludger thought. Most of his men couldn’t even take down something like that. If this shard came from a single frost paladin, the rest of their stock must be tiny.

He turned the shard over one last time before tucking it into his pouch. The glow dimmed slightly, as if the metal didn’t appreciate being pocketed.

“Guess we’ll call this a bonus,” Ludger said aloud.

Kharnek snorted. “Keep it. You earned it. I’m not carrying your shiny rocks.”

Ludger gave a faint smirk. “Don’t worry. I plan to put them to better use than decoration.”

Kharnek grinned back, hefting his axe over one shoulder. “Just don’t start a war with them.”

“No promises,” Ludger said dryly, falling back into step beside him as the group moved deeper into the second zone’s frost-veined corridors.

The shard’s glow pulsed faintly through the fabric of his pouch with every step — a quiet reminder that there were layers of value here still untapped. Both in the labyrinth, and in the uneasy alliance trying to survive around it.

Two hours later, the light of the surface finally came back into view — a faint silver glow bleeding through the ice tunnel’s mouth. The moment they stepped outside, the biting wind of the north hit them full force, but even that felt warmer than the chill of the labyrinth below.

Yvar and Darnell were waiting near the entrance, both of them pacing in the snow like they’d been there for a while. When they spotted Ludger and the others emerging, the tension on their faces broke instantly.

“Finally,” Darnell muttered, letting out a long breath. “I was starting to think we’d have to send a rescue party down there.”

Ludger brushed the frost off his coat, his expression calm but his voice edged with mild amusement. “You’d have wasted your time. I forgot to mention I was going in, didn’t I?”

Darnell crossed his arms. “Forgot. Right. You disappear for half a day and come back like it’s a walk in the park.”

Ludger smirked faintly. “Seems like you had plenty of time to worry about me. Maybe I should give you more work.”

That earned a groan from the captain. “Don’t you dare.”

“Relax,” Ludger said, already walking past him toward the settlement. “I’ll head back to the fields. The fences won’t build themselves, and someone’s gotta make sure the cattle aren’t freezing to death while you’re gossiping.”

Kharnek barked a short laugh behind him, hefting his axe over his shoulder. “Hah! That’s your leader, Darnell. Always thinking about dirt and cows even after fighting monsters.”

Darnell shot back, “At least he’s consistent.”

Ludger lifted a hand without turning. “Consistency’s the mark of professionalism.”

“Or insanity,” Darnell muttered.

The group split — the Northerners heading toward their camp, and Ludger veering toward the revived grasslands. The faint outline of the fields shimmered in the cold light, still green against the snow.

Yvar followed behind, notebook already in hand. His boots crunched in the frost as he caught up. “So,” he began, “what did you find down there?”

Ludger slowed his pace slightly, glancing sideways. “A lot of froststeel. A few smarter skeletons. And a reminder that the labyrinths don’t like me.”

Yvar adjusted his glasses, scribbling as they walked. “That’s vague, even for you.”

“Fine.” Ludger rolled his shoulder, the faint weight of the large froststeel shard still resting in his satchel. “The second zone’s bigger than I expected. There’s architecture under the ice — manmade. Could be ruins. And the monsters… they’re evolved . One of them had full armor, shield, and spear. The thing fought like it remembered being alive.”

Yvar’s pen slowed. “Interesting. That would explain the mana fluctuations we’ve been detecting in the area. The stronger the monsters, the more mana they have and more intelligence as well.”

“Yeah,” Ludger said, eyes narrowing as he looked back toward the labyrinth entrance. “Whatever’s down there, it’s not just ice and bones.”

He turned back toward the field, the wind tugging at his coat. “Anyway, that’s your domain, not mine. I’ve got fields to build.”

Yvar smiled faintly, closing his notebook. “And I’ve got a report to write. Try not to forget to tell people when you dive into an ancient death trap next time.”

Ludger gave a short, dry chuckle. “No promises.”

Then he kept walking — the field ahead, the frozen labyrinth behind, and a dozen new questions gnawing quietly at the back of his mind.

As Ludger walked back toward the settlement, the cold wind biting against his face, his mind was already miles away — back inside the labyrinth.

The way the ice corridors twisted, the faint hum of mana in the walls, the eerie rhythm of the monsters moving in formation — it all replayed in his head with sharp precision. Every fight, every movement, every mistake.

He exhaled slowly, eyes half-lidded. Yeah… I should go back there. Every night if I have to.

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