Maurien’s eyes narrowed, his expression shifting from analysis to grim understanding. “That would make sense. Forgotten mines run all through this range. The Empire used them before. Plenty of space to dig a new network without anyone noticing.”

Freyra crossed her arms, looking toward the dark cliffs ahead. “So they’re rats hiding under rock.”

“Rats who know how to cover their scent,” Ludger said quietly. “If they’ve been using earth mages to maintain the routes, they could’ve been running this for years without anyone finding it.”

Maurien exhaled through his nose, gaze drifting toward the peaks. “Then we’ll have to dig them out.”

Ludger gave a faint, tired smirk. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

Maurien turned to him. “You’ve got the earth sense. I’ve got the firepower. Between us, we’ll find the door.”

Freyra grinned, flexing her hands. “And I’ll make sure no one runs once you do.”

Ludger’s eyes flicked toward the stony slope ahead, feeling the faint hum of mana deep beneath the surface. Something was down there—quiet, deliberate, and far too organized.

“Alright,” he said finally, voice steady. “Let’s see where the mountain hides its secrets.”

Ludger reached for one of the slim vials at his belt, popped the cork, and drank the mana potion in two quick swallows. The bitter, metallic taste hit the back of his tongue, and warmth flooded through his chest, refilling the hollow ache his last search had left behind.

“Alright,” he murmured, kneeling again. “Let’s try this properly.”

He planted both hands against the rock and exhaled, eyes falling shut. The hum of his mana spread through his veins, sinking into the mountain beneath him like roots searching for water. Seismic Sense bloomed outward.

This time, he pushed it deeper.

The stone answered in layers: the first thin crust of surface rock, fractured and dry; then the compacted dirt and ancient shale below; and deeper still, the solid bones of the mountain, humming with the faint tremors of distant heat. Ludger followed those vibrations carefully, letting them draw the terrain inside his mind.

Every ridge, every fault, every hollow—it all built itself into a rough map behind his eyelids. Sweat began to bead on his temple, the strain of so much sensory feedback pressing hard against his focus. His breathing slowed, muscles tightening under the flood of information.

He could feel Freyra and Maurien watching in silence, the air around them thick with anticipation.

And then—there.

A subtle gap where the density of rock dipped unnaturally. A space carved by hands, not time. The layers above it had been packed deliberately, thick enough to block ordinary sensing magic but not enough to fool him.

Ludger’s eyes opened. “Got it,” he said quietly, voice rough from focus. “Closest entrance is northeast—about two hundred meters from here. Buried under a boulder.”

He stood, shaking off the lingering dizziness, and started forward without waiting for confirmation. Maurien followed, silent and sharp, and Freyra fell in behind them, her pace heavy but controlled.

The mountain wind picked up as they climbed a short slope, the mist thinning around the jagged rocks. Soon, Ludger slowed and gestured toward what looked like an ordinary stone half-buried in the earth—a broad boulder crusted with lichen, surrounded by old gravel.

“There,” he said.

Freyra frowned. “That’s an entrance?”

Ludger nodded. “Half-buried boulder, compacted earth around the base, no natural settling cracks. It’s a lid.”

Maurien crouched beside him, eyes narrowing. “Smart. They disguised it as a rockslide.”

Ludger pressed a hand to the ground again, confirming the faint hollow beneath. “We open it, we’ll find their tunnels.”

Freyra grinned, flexing her hands. “Then what are we waiting for?”

Ludger exhaled, steadying his mana again. “For me not to collapse from overusing magic.”

Maurien chuckled under his breath. “At least he’s honest.”

But Ludger’s gaze stayed locked on the stone. Beneath that boulder was the first door to the Empire’s secrets—and whatever waited behind it was about to lose its hiding place.

Maurien stepped forward without a word, boots scraping softly against the rocky ground. His eyes lingered on the half-buried boulder—assessing, measuring. The air around him began to shift, subtle at first, like a breeze hesitating between directions.

“Cover me for the noise, Ludger.”

He raised his right hand, extending a single finger toward the stone.

Then, with a slow exhale, he drew it downward through the air.

The wind responded like a beast unchained.

A sharp whistle tore through the mountainside—a slicing, high-pitched hiss that grew into a low roar as the air condensed and curved around his motion. For a heartbeat, it felt as if the world itself was holding its breath. Then came the second sound: the tearing shriek of something impossibly sharp carving through stone.

Ludger felt the pressure push against his clothes and hair, whipping his scarf to the side. Freyra squinted and took half a step back, instinctively shielding her face.

The boulder shuddered—then split open as though it were made of brittle clay. Lines of clean, diagonal cuts webbed across its surface, hundreds of them, so fine they barely caught the eye until the whole thing gave way.

A soft crack echoed once.

And the massive stone collapsed in on itself like cotton sheared apart, breaking down into chunks and dust. The air filled with a faint metallic tang, the scent of ozone and freshly split earth.

When the dust settled, what remained was not ruin—but an opening. A dark, slanted tunnel gaped beneath the remains of the boulder, its edges unnaturally smooth, disappearing into the black veins of the mountain.

Maurien lowered his hand, the air still vibrating faintly around his fingers. “There,” he said, voice calm but edged with satisfaction. “Neat, clean, and quiet enough not to wake the dead.”

Freyra let out a low whistle. “You call that quiet?”

Maurien smirked faintly. “Didn’t you hear the part where the dead stayed sleeping?”

Ludger stepped closer, peering down the sloping entrance. The scent that rose up was unmistakable—iron, herbs, and stale air. He adjusted his gloves, jaw tightening. “That’s our confirmation.”

Freyra lingered near the edge of the shattered boulder, her eyes still fixed on Maurien. The mage stood calm as ever, brushing stone dust from his cloak, as if slicing a mountain open was nothing more than a casual exercise. But the way he moved—the precision, the restraint—had a weight to it.

Her brows furrowed. “You,” she said finally, voice breaking the quiet. “You were in the conflict against my people, weren’t you?”

Maurien didn’t even glance at her. “That’s not important right now.”

Freyra stepped closer, tone hardening. “It is to me.”

He sighed, turning just enough to meet her stare. “And why’s that?”

“I’ve heard about mages who fought there,” she said, eyes narrowing. “But no one in particular who used wind like a blade—fast enough to tear through lines of men without leaving a scream. But none of our warriors died that way. None.”

Maurien’s expression didn’t change, but his silence spoke plenty.

Ludger, watching from beside the tunnel entrance, let out a quiet breath through his nose. “She’s not going to drop it,” he muttered.

Maurien glanced at him. Ludger just shrugged, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his mouth. You may as well tell her, it said without words. I already figured it out.

The older mage finally spoke. “I avoided those fights,” he said, voice even, measured. “I joined the first battle against the northerners, yes—but not for long. My orders were to assist in retaking the border town, not to burn fields or slaughter people. I had an agreement with Lord Torvares as he would give me intel about bandits groups behind the scenes.”

Freyra crossed her arms. “You didn’t go all out?”

Maurien’s gaze sharpened. “No. Because my focus wasn’t war—it was bandit hunting. That’s why Lord Torvares sent me in the first place.” He paused, his voice lowering slightly. “What your people did… invading the border town, killing civilians—it wasn’t something I could ignore. But I understood it wasn’t blind savagery. It was a reaction to something older. A chain of mistakes on both sides.”

Freyra frowned, her grip tightening. “You’re saying you understood us?”

“I’m saying I didn’t see the point in killing men who were fighting ghosts older than either of us,” Maurien said. “So I went easy. I kept my magic on the ground. I didn’t come to kill northerners. I came to stop the bleeding before the Empire made it worse. I was going to do more, but some youths did a lot better than expected and that helped… I fought hidden thanks to them because without them, I would have to cut down your shamans on the walls and reveal myself.”

That silenced her for a few seconds. The rain had stopped completely now, leaving only the whisper of wind through the mountain cracks.

Ludger watched the exchange quietly, his thoughts already moving ahead. He didn’t need to ask Maurien for confirmation—he understood the truth of it just from the man’s tone. Maurien hadn’t spared the northerners out of mercy; he’d done it because he understood the cost of escalation. He wasn’t a soft-hearted idealist—he was a professional who knew when victory became waste.

Freyra finally looked away, jaw tight. “If that’s true,” she said, her voice quieter now, “then maybe you’re not the kind of Imperial I thought.”

Maurien gave a small, humorless smile. “You’ll find most of us aren’t. You just met the loud ones first.”

Ludger stepped forward, cutting the silence before it grew heavy. “You two can talk politics later. We’ve got a tunnel to clean out.”

Maurien nodded, his eyes turning back to the dark entrance. “Right. Back to work.”

Ludger raised his hand, and the broken fragments of the boulder lifted from the ground without a sound. The chunks floated for a moment before settling neatly to the side, guided by his will.

He crouched near the opening and pressed a hand to the floor. His mana flowed into the rock, spreading in careful, precise waves. The vibration painted a three-dimensional map in his mind—shadows, voids, and sudden spikes where pressure felt unnatural.

He opened his eyes after a few seconds, exhaling through his nose. “Traps,” he said quietly. “Plenty of them.”

Maurien leaned forward. “How many?”

“All kinds,” Ludger murmured. “Pressure plates, tripwires, a few rune nodes buried in the walls. Whoever built this wasn’t sloppy—they expected intruders.”

Freyra squinted at the dark corridor. “You can see all that from here?”

“Feel it,” Ludger corrected. “Seismic Sense reads tension and density. The magic traces are faint, but the metal and runes throw echoes.”

Maurien gave a low hum, impressed. “Can you disable them?”

Ludger nodded slightly. “I can collapse the triggers with earth shaping. Fill the gaps, break the channels. But…” He looked down the tunnel again, the edges of his eyes glowing faintly with residual mana. “It won’t be quiet. The whole corridor will feel it, and anyone within five hundred meters will know something’s wrong. While I can’t feel anyone within that distance, the sound will probably alert the enemies. Otherwise, they wouldn’t stay this far away from the entrance.”

Maurien’s expression hardened. “And your sense didn’t pick up anyone that close?”

“Nothing,” Ludger said. “No heartbeats, no movement, no tremors—just the traps. It’s been still for a while.”

Ludger stood, dusting his gloves off, and glanced back at Freyra. “Stay alert. Once I start moving the ground, even a whisper could trigger something I miss.”

She smirked. “So, quiet for once. Got it.”

Ludger didn’t rise to the bait. He looked down the dark passage again, tracing the faint pattern of traps beneath the earth with his mind. “Alright,” he said finally. “Let’s open the way.”

Ludger crouched low and pressed both palms against the ground. His mana seeped into the stone in slow, deliberate pulses—like water trickling through cracks. The Seismic Sense came alive again, and the whole corridor stretched inside his mind.

He worked methodically. A twist of mana here, a careful shift there. Pressure plates sank harmlessly into compacted earth. Runes buried in the walls flared for an instant before their circuits broke apart. Wires and channels snapped one by one, their resonance fading into silence.

Each adjustment sent a faint click or crunch echoing through the tunnel—soft but sharp enough to make Freyra tense and glance back every time. The quiet rhythm of those sounds—metal bending, stone grinding—was the only thing filling the dark.

After a few minutes, Ludger finally exhaled and looked up. “That’s the first layer done,” he said. His tone was calm, but the slight tremor in his fingertips showed the strain. “If there’s another set deeper in, they’ll have to trigger it manually.”

Maurien gave a short nod, eyes fixed on the long, shadowed stretch ahead. He stepped forward, checking the air flow with a faint gesture of wind magic, then turned to Freyra.

“When I give the signal,” he said evenly, “you and Ludger run for the end of the corridor. Don’t hesitate, don’t second-guess. If anything happens, I’ll cover your backs no matter what.”

She tilted her chin up, eyes narrowing. “I’ll fight,” she said, “but I’m not trusting my neck to some Imperial I met two days ago.”

Maurien’s expression didn’t flicker. “That’s fine,” he said calmly. “You don’t have to trust me. You just have to live long enough to regret not doing so.”

For a moment, their gazes locked—hers sharp with pride, his with the quiet, unshakable confidence of someone who’d seen too many fights to care about ego.

Ludger broke the tension with a dry mutter as he rose to his feet. “Can we save the bonding for after we clear the death tunnel?”

Maurien’s mouth curved slightly. “You heard the vice guildmaster.”

Freyra gripped her axe, eyes gleaming. “Then let’s move.”

The corridor ahead waited, dark and cold, the faint smell of old iron promising whatever was left of the Empire’s secret dealings lay just beyond their reach.

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