Arslan gave the yawning stone arch a long look, then swung his leg off his horse with the ease of someone who had done this a thousand times before. He dusted off his hands and grinned at the others.

“Change of plans. We’ll camp here,” he announced after looking at the kids of the group and realizing that he should stir them some restraint. “Better to enter fresh in the morning than stumble around inside half-asleep. First labyrinths are meant to be remembered, not rushed.”

His companions nodded without hesitation, moving as if they’d already known what he would say. Harold set his axe down and began gathering wood without needing to be asked. Aleia scouted the perimeter, checking for signs of beasts, while Selene tied the horses off with efficient knots. Cor simply tapped his staff against the ground once, muttering a spell that caused the air to shimmer faintly—his way of warning if anything came too close in the night.

To Ludger, it was odd. They moved like clockwork, no discussion, no debate. Camping outside a labyrinth seemed to be second nature, as ordinary to them as breathing.

Viola frowned from where she stood near the carriage. “Why wait? I’m ready now.”

Arslan ruffled her hair, earning a murderous glare for his trouble. “And tomorrow you’ll be even readier. Trust me, kid—nothing inside will disappear overnight.”

Ludger adjusted the straps of his oversized pack and sighed quietly. So this is the rhythm of adventurers. Fight tomorrow, rest today. No urgency, no rush.

Still, as the fire began to crackle and the group settled into their tasks, he felt the faintest spark of anticipation. Tomorrow, he will step into his first labyrinth.

The party moved with the kind of ease that only came from years of habit.

Harold returned quickly with an armful of firewood, his broad shoulders stacked with branches as though they weighed nothing. He dumped them into a neat pile near the ridge and struck flint until sparks caught, the fire blooming to life in moments. Aleia had already set out simple snares in the brush nearby and was skinning a pair of rabbits before the flames had even settled. Selene, efficient as always, hammered down the tent stakes with her bare fists, the canvas rising steady and taut with hardly a wasted motion.

Cor sat slightly apart from the bustle, tracing faint magic into the dirt with the tip of his hand. Soft lines of light pulsed and sank into the earth, creating a faint barrier circle that shimmered at the edge of vision—an invisible warning bell against wandering beasts.

Arslan, of course, strolled between them with a grin plastered across his face, tossing the occasional “good job” or “nice work” without lifting a single finger. Ludger watched this carefully, noting how his father had somehow convinced everyone else to do the heavy labor while he played cheerleader. So this is how he’s survived this long. Making himself the leader without doing the leader’s work.

Meanwhile, he and Viola sat off to the side, watching the preparations unfold like a performance.

“They move so fast,” Viola muttered, her scowl softened into something closer to awe. “Like they’ve done this a thousand times.”

“They probably have,” Ludger replied flatly. He leaned back against his oversized pack, arms crossed. “You’re looking at veterans. This isn’t training in the yard anymore.”

Viola’s gaze lingered on Selene, who tightened the last strap of a tent with a single tug. Her jaw clenched. “I’ll be like that one day. Faster, stronger.”

Ludger raised an eyebrow. “Not if you charge into every fight the way you charge at me. You’ll be dead before you ever learn.”

She shot him a glare, but for once, didn’t argue.

The fire crackled, the smell of roasting meat drifted into the air, and the group settled into their places. To Ludger, it felt almost surreal—his first camp outside home, on the edge of a labyrinth. Tomorrow, the real trial would begin.

The fire burned steady as night deepened, throwing long shadows against the ridge. Harold chewed noisily on roasted rabbit while Aleia sipped from her flask, humming some traveling tune under her breath. Selene sat nearest the flames, sharpening her short sword with slow, deliberate strokes, while Cor leaned on his staff, his eyes half-closed as though he were resting—but everyone knew he never truly slept on watch.

Arslan, naturally, filled the silence. He launched into a story about a labyrinth he had cleared years ago, embellishing details until even Harold rolled his eyes. Ludger listened with half an ear, more interested in watching the way Cor occasionally twitched his staff when the runes on the ground pulsed faintly. Even at rest, he doesn’t stop working.

At some point, Arslan glanced at his son and grinned. “Hey, Luds, are you keeping up, or are you already nodding off?”

Ludger gave a small shrug. “Still awake.”

But across the fire, Viola’s eyes narrowed. She had been leaning forward, listening to the story with stiff attention, but now her scowl deepened.

“Luds?” she repeated, her tone sharp. “You get a pet name?”

Ludger tilted his head at her, unbothered. “Apparently.”

Her frown deepened. “And I don’t?”

He blinked once, then smirked faintly. “You can have mine if you want. I don’t care. From now on, you are Luds.”

Arslan nearly choked on his drink, Harold burst out laughing, and even Selene’s lips twitched into a reluctant smile. Viola, however, crossed her arms and turned her face away, cheeks faintly pink in the firelight.

Ludger leaned back against his pack, closing his eyes. If something as small as a nickname gets under her skin, tomorrow’s going to be even worse.

The fire crackled, sending sparks dancing into the night sky. Viola sat stiffly, arms crossed, but her eyes kept flicking toward Arslan. The longer the silence dragged, the more obvious it became what she was waiting for.

Arslan noticed eventually, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ah… you want a nickname too, huh?”

Viola didn’t answer, but the faint tilt of her chin said everything.

“Hmm…” Arslan frowned, staring into the fire as if inspiration might leap out of the flames. “…Viol? Vio? Little Bull?”

Selene groaned, muttering, “gods help us.”

Ludger cracked one eye open, then sighed. “You’re terrible at this.”

Arslan grinned sheepishly. “Got something better, Luds?”

Ludger smirked, taking his time. “Sure. How about… Scowly McSwordface? Or maybe Princess Punch—you know, since you broke that noble boy’s nose?”

Harold nearly spit his drink into the fire, laughing so hard he had to clutch his stomach. Aleia wheezed out a whistle between giggles, while even Cor’s stoic lips twitched before he shook his head.

Viola’s face turned crimson, her glare sharp enough to cut stone. “I don’t need your nicknames!” she snapped, standing and turning her back to them.

Arslan coughed into his hand, failing to hide his grin. “He’s got your spirit, that’s for sure.”

Ludger lay back against his pack, folding his arms behind his head. “You asked for one. I delivered.”

As Viola huffed and sat back down a little farther from the fire, Ludger closed his eyes. If she gets this worked up over names, what’s she going to do when the labyrinth actually starts testing her?

The laughter around the fire settled into a calmer rhythm, the crackling flames filling the spaces between words. Arslan leaned back on a log, stretching with a content sigh, before resting his hands behind his head.

“All right, listen up,” he said, his tone shifting into something just a bit more serious. “Tomorrow, when we head inside, don’t expect anything flashy. This labyrinth’s only a beginner’s nest. The most you’ll see are goblins.”

Viola leaned forward immediately, eyes gleaming. “Then I’ll fight them.”

Arslan chuckled, wagging a finger at her. “Nope. Not this time. You and Ludger will hang back and watch. Learn how we handle them. Next time, you can join the fight.”

Ludger stayed quiet, nodding once. He didn’t mind. Watching how veterans worked inside a labyrinth would probably teach him more than swinging wildly at weaklings.

Viola, however, nearly exploded. “What? That’s not fair! I’ve trained for this! I’m not just going to sit on the sidelines while everyone else fights.”

Arslan smirked without looking up from his whetstone. “Trained, yes. Survived a labyrinth, no. There’s a difference. Second rule, I am the rules. My word is law in this party… at least when we are exploring labyirnths.”

Harold grunted in agreement, tossing a rabbit bone into the flames. “First rule—live to tell the story. Anyone who forgets that ends up food for the crows.”

Viola’s scowl deepened, her fists clenching in her lap. She turned her glare toward Ludger, almost daring him to back her up.

But Ludger only shrugged. “Better to watch once and fight next time than to charge in blind.” His lips curled faintly. “That way you won’t embarrass yourself.”

Viola’s jaw tightened, her cheeks burning, but she had no counter ready. She simply turned her face away, muttering under her breath.

Arslan grinned, clearly enjoying the squabbling. “Good! That’s the spirit. Fire in your belly, but patience too—that’s how adventurers grow.”

Ludger leaned back, staring into the flames. Patience, huh? I wonder if she’ll ever learn that part.

The night passed quietly, save for the crackle of the fire and the occasional murmur from Cor as his runes flared faintly at the edge of the camp. Selene had told a story before they slept—about a group of overconfident rookies who charged goblins and never returned. She spoke it without drama, as though reciting a recipe, but the weight behind her words had silenced even Viola.

When dawn came, the chill in the air carried a sharp bite. Ludger stirred from his blanket, pushing himself upright and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His body felt light, the stiffness of travel gone, his muscles eager to move.

Goblins, huh? He stretched, rolling his shoulders. I’ve been patient, but it might be time to test myself properly. My body’s starting to respond well, and I want to see how far I’ve come.

The thought filled him with a quiet spark of excitement. To measure his strength not against a sparring partner holding back, or a half-sister swinging clumsily, but against real monsters. Something that wanted him dead.

But he didn’t say a word.

He glanced toward Viola, who was already awake, tugging on her boots with a scowl of determination. If he voiced his thoughts, she would leap at the chance to drag him into the front lines. And that was exactly what he didn’t need.

So instead, he tightened his new forearm guards, adjusted the straps on his pack, and kept his mouth shut.

If the chance came, he’d take it. But for now, silence was the smarter move.

The sun had just begun to climb when they approached the stone arch. The morning light painted the ridges gold, but the labyrinth’s mouth swallowed it whole. Mist clung to the entrance, a dark haze that seemed to pulse faintly, like the steady breath of something alive.

The horses balked as they drew near, snorting and stamping their hooves. Even the seasoned mounts of Arslan’s companions had to be tugged back, unwilling to go closer. They were tied off a safe distance away, left in Harold’s care until he found a good place to tie them up.

Arslan strode forward first, his grin undimmed. “All right! Time to earn some memories. Keep sharp, everyone.”

Selene checked her straps one last time, her face set in the hard expression of habit. Aleia ran her fingers along her bowstring, humming faintly to herself, while Cor tapped his staff, eyes narrowed as though trying to read the flow of the mist itself.

Viola practically vibrated with anticipation, one hand gripping the hilt of her sword, the other clenched into a fist. She shot a quick glance at Ludger, daring him to look as nervous as she thought he should.

But Ludger didn’t look nervous. His eyes lingered on the mist, studying the way it swirled, the way the darkness seemed to eat sound itself. His heartbeat quickened, not from fear but from something sharper. So this is it. My first labyrinth.

Arslan waved them on, stepping through the arch without hesitation. The mist rippled around him and swallowed his form whole. One by one, the others followed.

Ludger adjusted his forearm guards, drew a slow breath, and stepped forward.

The chill hit him first—damp air that clung to his skin. Then came the silence. No birdsong, no wind, only the faint drip of unseen water and the echo of their footsteps on cold stone.

The labyrinth had taken them in.

The stone corridor twisted in uneven patterns, damp with moss and faintly lit by flickering torches wedged into the walls. The air smelled of rot and old iron. They hadn’t gone far when the first shadows emerged.

Goblins.

They were smaller than Ludger had expected, but no less vile for it—thin, wiry creatures with green-gray skin stretched taut over bony frames. Their ears were long and jagged, their yellow eyes glowing faintly in the gloom. Rusty knives and crude clubs dangled from their hands, pitted and chipped from years of scavenging. Their snarls echoed unnaturally down the stone halls, like the growl of wild dogs too hungry to wait.

The party shifted instantly into a practiced formation.

Selene stepped forward, lowering her stance, fists raised. Harold planted his axe in the ground with a solid thunk, ready to intercept any rush. Aleia nocked an arrow, her bowstring humming with tension, while Cor moved behind them, book angled forward, already whispering incantations.

The goblins screeched and surged forward.

The first one lunged at Selene, its jagged knife flashing in the torchlight. She caught its wrist with a sharp twist, snapping the bone like dry wood, then drove her fist into its chest. The creature crumpled with a wet gasp.

Two more darted toward Harold, swinging clubs wildly. He raised his axe like a shield, the crude weapons clattering uselessly against its thick steel. With a single backhanded sweep, his blade carved through both goblins in one arc, their bodies hitting the floor before they even realized they were dead.

Aleia’s arrow sang through the air, striking a goblin in the throat just as it tried to circle around. It fell instantly, clawing at the shaft protruding from its neck as dark blood bubbled up.

The last three came as a pack, shrieking, but Cor got in action. A wave of shimmering force rippled outward, slamming into them like a wall. Dazed and stumbling, they barely had time to recover before Selene and Harold finished them with swift, clean blows.

The fight ended as quickly as it began. The goblins lay strewn across the corridor, their snarls silenced.

Ludger’s pulse quickened as he stared at the scene. So that’s the difference. No hesitation, no wasted movement. They block, they strike, they end it.

Beside him, Viola gripped her sword so tightly her knuckles whitened, her scowl carved deeper than ever. Watching and waiting clearly burned her more than the monsters themselves.

The stench of blood and iron clung to the air as the party casually wiped down their weapons. The corpses of the goblins still twitched in the torchlight, yet none of the adventurers looked tense or rattled.

Ludger’s eyes narrowed as he studied them.

Selene had dropped the goblin with the same calm expression she wore while correcting his stances in the yard. Harold chuckled as he hefted his axe back over his shoulder, like the fight had been no more troublesome than chopping wood. Aleia plucked her arrow from the dead goblin’s throat with steady fingers, humming again as though she’d merely finished a song. Even Cor, who had released the most impressive attack, looked more interested in brushing dust from his book than in the enemies he had crushed.

They weren’t careless. Far from it. Every move had been sharp, efficient, controlled. But they carried themselves as though nothing about this fight was worth getting worked up over.

They don’t want to look reckless, Ludger realized. They’re showing us—me and Viola—what it means to fight with composure. No wasted energy, no panic. Just finish the job and keep moving.

He glanced at his father. Arslan was grinning, of course, but even he hadn’t swung his sword. He stood behind the formation, watching, relaxed but ready. For once, Ludger understood—it wasn’t laziness. It was teaching.

The message was clear: this was how veterans fought. Clean, confident, without letting the thrill of battle cloud their judgment.

Ludger’s lips pressed into a thin line as he adjusted the straps on his forearm guards. If I’m going to grow, I need to learn that balance. Not just strength, but control.

Beside him, Viola seethed, her fists tight around her sword. But Ludger kept his eyes on the corpses, letting the lesson settle deep in his mind.