Chapter 737
By the time they reached the Lionsguard branch again, the sun was already dipping lower in the sky, painting the stone walls of Lionfang with long shadows.
Another day. Another experiment. Another improvement waiting to happen.
They passed through the gates of the city just as the evening light began to settle over the city.
The familiar sounds of the town washed over them, merchants closing their stalls, children shouting somewhere in the distance, the dull rhythm of hammers from a forge that refused to stop even at sunset.
After the humidity and silence of the labyrinth, it felt almost strange.
The recruits peeled away toward the branch building, still talking excitedly about the guardian fight and the scales they had harvested. Their voices carried a new tone now, not just nerves or curiosity, but confidence.
They had seen how things were supposed to be done. Ludger walked a little ahead of the group, the wrapped guardian scales resting against his shoulder.
His mind was already working. The suit needed improvement. That part was obvious.
Julia could handle the materials and textile integration. She had already proven she could process spider silk into something durable and mana-conductive. The way she approached production was methodical, perfect for maintaining consistency.
But Raukor… Raukor understood weapons. The way metal and enchantment behaved under stress.
They should work together.
Ludger nodded slightly to himself. Yes. He would make Raukor and Julia collaborate on the improvements. Once they actually saw the suit in its first complete form, once they saw what it could do in the field, they would likely become far more eager to join the secret project.
People committed faster when they could see results. Selene suddenly leaned into his field of vision from the side.
“You’re being quiet again,” she said.
Ludger blinked once and looked at her.
“I’m thinking.”
Selene raised an eyebrow.
“Dangerous habit.”
“About the next steps,” Ludger added calmly.
That made her curious enough to walk beside him instead of wandering off.
“What kind of steps?”
Ludger adjusted the bundle of scales on his shoulder.
“I’ll send some bracers to the branch,” he said. “Runic ones.”
Selene tilted her head.
“What kind of runes?”
“Seismic Sense.”
That got her full attention.
“They’ll help you find enemies more easily,” Ludger explained. “Ambushes won’t work as well.”
Selene whistled softly.
“That will help,” she admitted.
Her grin slowly returned, the dangerous one.
“Good,” she added.
“Why?” Ludger asked.
Selene stretched her arms behind her head, walking backward for a moment so she could look directly at him.
“Because,” she said with obvious satisfaction, “I want to challenge that guardian as soon as possible.”
Ludger stared at her for a moment. Then he sighed quietly. Selene laughed. And Lionfang continued buzzing around them like the world had no idea another set of experiments had just begun. After they split from the others near the Lionsguard branch, Ludger didn’t take the main streets.
He slipped into the maintenance shed behind the outer wall, lifted the stone latch hidden beneath the stacked crates, and descended into the underground tunnel network. The air below was cool and dry, carrying the faint smell of dust and old stone. Perfect for moving unnoticed.
The moment the earth closed behind him, Ludger began to run. Not the steady jog he used when traveling with others. He dashed. For once he leaned into the class that he almost forgot he even had.
Courier.
His steps became light and precise, the rhythm of his feet barely touching the stone as he flowed through the tunnels. The skill didn’t make him faster in the explosive way Overdrive did, it made him efficient. Every movement wasted less energy, every stride flowed into the next without resistance.
He moved through the darkness like a current through water. And while he ran, his mind replayed the day’s fights. The guardian. The spear thrusts. The rhythm of the creature’s style.
Even without using Overdrive… Even without Rage Flow… He had controlled that fight from the moment he decided to stop testing the monster. The truth was simple.
He had been strong enough to crush it. The spar with Harold came next in his thoughts.
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That had been more troublesome, not because Harold was stronger, but because Harold understood pressure. Sword and shield forced Ludger to respect weight and momentum. The hits had rattled him.
Still… When the spar ended, Ludger had plenty left in the tank. His breathing had been calm. His muscles still ready. Harold had exhausted himself trying to keep up. Ludger slowed slightly as he passed beneath a particularly narrow stretch of tunnel, the ceiling brushing the top of his hair.
I’m stronger.
The thought wasn’t arrogance. Just observation. He was stronger than the veterans. Men and women who had twice his fighting experience.
Maybe more. And yet… He frowned slightly. It wasn’t enough. Strength alone had never been the goal. He didn’t want to be the strongest fighter in Lionsguard. He wanted something far more difficult. An unstoppable guild. That meant systems. Training. Technology.
Knowledge spread through dozens, hundreds, of fighters. Teachers. Runic tools. New tactics. Better gear. Bracers with Seismic Sense. The experimental suit. Weapons no one expected. Classes people weren’t supposed to learn.
If Ludger died tomorrow, the guild still needed to keep advancing. That was the real challenge. That was the real enemy. He dashed through the last bend of the tunnel and climbed the ladder toward the hidden exit near his home.
The night air greeted him when he pushed the stone aside. Lionfang’s lights flickered across the streets, and somewhere nearby he could hear Silva howling excitedly. Ludger stepped out into the cool evening.
The next morning, Ludger headed straight to Raukor’s workshop.
The place was already alive with the usual noise, metal ringing against metal, the hiss of cooling steel, and the steady glow of the forge lighting the stone walls with a warm orange pulse. Raukor stood near the main anvil, arms blackened with soot, hammer resting across one shoulder as he inspected the edge of a half-finished blade.
When Ludger stepped inside, Raukor raised an eyebrow.
“You’re early.”
Ludger placed the wrapped bundle on the nearby workbench and unrolled the cloth. The emerald-toned guardian scales caught the forge light immediately, their layered ridges reflecting faintly like polished stone.
Raukor leaned closer.
“Reptilian scales?” he muttered, running a thumb across one plate.
Then he looked back at Ludger.
“I thought the crossbows were going to be froststeel.”
“They are,” Ludger replied.
Raukor frowned.
“Then why give these to me?”
Ludger shrugged lightly.
“Keep them.”
Raukor blinked.
“Keep them?” he repeated.
“Until the first prototype of the suit is finished,” Ludger clarified.
Raukor leaned back against the workbench, arms crossing slowly as he studied the scales again.
“You’re planning to add them to that strange costume project,” he guessed.
“Possibly,” Ludger said. “We might need them.”
That was enough explanation for now. Raukor grunted in acceptance, though curiosity lingered in his expression.
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll store them properly.”
He picked up one of the scales again, weighing it thoughtfully.
“These are good pieces. Harder than most reptilian plates. Wouldn’t surprise me if they stop a blade.”
Ludger nodded once.
“Good.”
The suit would need materials that could survive real fights. Julia was already working on her part of the project, processing spider silk into a flexible base layer and integrating the runic channels Ludger had designed.
But she had been honest. It would take weeks before the first version was finished. That didn’t bother Ludger. Good work took time.
After leaving Raukor’s workshop, Ludger returned to the Lionsguard guild building. The morning was already in motion.
Recruits were training in the courtyard, practicing formations and weapon drills under the watchful eyes of senior members. Yvar stood near the dispatch board organizing contracts, his usual stack of documents tucked beneath one arm.
Ludger walked through the building quietly, checking things the way he always did. Supply reports. Training schedules. Patrol rotations. Everything looked stable. No emergencies. No sudden problems requiring immediate attention.
For once, the machine he had helped build was running smoothly without him forcing every piece into place. Ludger stood near the entrance hall for a moment, hands resting lightly in his pockets.
Then his thoughts drifted back to the folded letter inside his coat.
The tree drawing. The “enigma.” The illusionist. He exhaled quietly.
“…Perhaps I should look into that nonsense.”
Because even if it was ridiculous… Illusion magic was still a weapon he didn’t have yet.
Ludger didn’t pack like someone preparing for an adventure.
He packed like someone preparing for work.
His room looked like the aftermath of a quiet storm, papers spread across the desk, several ink bottles arranged in careful rows, scraps of experimental notes stacked beside half-finished rune diagrams.
He pulled a small satchel from beneath the desk and began filling it with the things he actually needed.
Ink bottles. Several pieces of thick parchment. A sealed container of the magic water he had been experimenting with. He held the bottle for a moment, watching the faint shimmer inside it.
If he was going to waste time wandering around looking for an illusionist who communicated through puzzles, he wasn’t going to only think about riddles.
That would be inefficient. Instead, he would keep experimenting.
Maybe the change of environment would trigger something new. Inspiration sometimes appeared in strange places, patterns in the ground, the way mana flowed through trees, even the way humidity affected ink.
And if he could figure out how to combine runes, knowledge structuring, and materials properly…
He might be able to create the first skill book. The thought made his mouth twitch faintly. That would be worth far more than solving one mage’s childish treasure hunt. Once everything was packed, Ludger slung the satchel over his shoulder and stepped out of his room.
The house was quiet in that soft way mornings sometimes were. In the sitting area, Elaine was resting in a wooden chair near the window, a cup of tea warming her hands. On the floor nearby, the twins were asleep.
They had collapsed sideways during play, using the direwolf cubs as pillows. The cubs looked equally content with the arrangement, paws twitching occasionally as they dreamed.
Silva lay nearby, watching over the whole scene with the patient alertness of a creature who knew children were chaos incarnate. Elaine glanced up as Ludger entered.
“You’re leaving again?” she asked calmly.
“Only for a bit,” Ludger replied.
He adjusted the satchel strap.
“I’m looking for someone.”
Elaine raised an eyebrow.
“Who?”
Ludger shrugged.
“I don’t know yet.”
That earned him a long look. He pulled the folded paper from his coat and handed it to her.
“I only know they drew this.”
Elaine unfolded it carefully. The detailed drawing of the tree spread across the page. Her brows slowly pulled together.
“That’s…” she murmured.
Ludger watched her closely.
“Do you recognize it?”
Elaine frowned slightly, studying the shape of the branches.
“That’s a tree that’s hard to find nowadays.”
Ludger’s interest sharpened instantly.
“Why?”