After the brute collapsed in a pool of its own blood, the party didn’t linger. They collected a few more scraps from the goblin corpses—rings, bone trinkets, a handful of copper coins—before retracing their steps. The air seemed lighter the closer they came to the entrance, as though the labyrinth itself were exhaling them back into the world.

When the stone arch finally appeared again, the faint daylight bleeding through its mist, Arslan turned to face the group. His grin had returned, though his tone carried an unusual touch of seriousness.

“That’s enough for today,” he said, wiping his blade clean before sheathing it. “This labyrinth goes deeper, sure. But trust me, it’s just more of the same. Goblins, bigger goblins, maybe a brute or two like the one we just saw. The only real difference is the paths—split after split, twist after twist, until it all becomes one insane maze.”

He gestured back toward the dark corridors behind them. “For beginners, it’s good training. Teaches you to keep your bearings, teaches discipline, keeps you sharp. But there’s not much else worth showing here. No treasure vaults, no rare beasts, nothing but time wasted wandering in circles.”

Selene gave a small nod. “He’s right. Pushing further here doesn’t teach anything new.”

Harold grinned, resting his axe across his shoulders. “And I don’t fancy hauling kids through endless hallways for no reason.”

Aleia stretched, letting her bow dangle at her side. “Besides, the meat’s not worth the bones. We’ve seen enough.”

Cor remained silent, but his expression suggested he agreed.

Ludger exhaled slowly. So that’s it. A beginner’s labyrinth… enough to show me the basics, but not enough to test me properly. Perhaps in the future, i am alone. The distance is a problem, though.

Viola scowled, her grip on her wooden sword tightening. She clearly didn’t want to leave, but even she couldn’t deny that the veterans had decided.

Arslan clapped his hands together. “All right! Let’s head back and get something to eat. A day like this deserves a decent meal.”

As the others busied themselves with the horses and checking the spoils, Ludger’s gaze drifted toward the horizon.

If I got stronger… faster… could I sneak out one day? Come to a place like this on my own, train without needing to wait for permission?

The idea burned in his chest, both tempting and ridiculous. His body was still that of a child—short legs, short steps. Running here and back without anyone noticing was impossible for now. He’d tire too quickly, be caught before he ever reached the gates.

But later… maybe not.

He tightened the straps on his shin guards, feeling the weight of them against his legs. If I keep training, if I build up my stamina and speed… one day I’ll be able to slip away and return before anyone even realizes I was gone.

The thought made him smirk faintly. It wasn't a rebellion. It was preparation. To grow, he’d need to test himself on his own terms.

Behind him, Arslan was laughing at some joke Harold had made, and Viola was still sulking about not fighting. Ludger turned them out, eyes fixed on the city in the distance.

One day, I’ll move fast enough to go wherever I want. And no one will be able to stop me.

They should have headed straight back to Viola’s home. The sun was already sliding down the horizon, and Viola’s grandfather would no doubt be waiting at the estate gates, ready to measure every word and glance for weakness.

But Arslan, as always, had other ideas.

“Before we head back,” he said suddenly, tugging at the reins of his horse, “let’s make a quick stop. There’s a lake nearby. Nice spot, clear water, good place to stretch the legs.”

Selene gave him a look that could peel bark off a tree. “You mean to waste time.”

Arslan waved her off. “Relax. Viola’s cooped up all the time in that fortress of hers. This’ll do her some good.”

Harold scratched his beard and chuckled. “Can’t argue with a bit of fresh air and water.”

Aleia grinned. “Especially if there are fish.”

Cor said nothing, though the faint sigh he let out spoke volumes.

Ludger tilted his head, watching his father’s carefree grin. He’s going to be grilled alive when we get back. But does he care? Of course not. Thinking ahead was never his strength.

Viola’s scowl finally eased a little at the mention of the lake. She leaned out of the carriage, eyes brightening. “A lake? Really?”

Arslan winked at her. “That’s right. You’ve earned it.”

No, Ludger thought, adjusting his reins as they veered off the road, what she’s earned is watching you get shouted at for being late.

But he kept the thought to himself, following the others as they turned toward the lake nestled in the hills.

The lake lay nestled between low hills, its waters clear enough to reflect the fading sky. Fireflies were just beginning to gather along the reeds, their faint glow flickering across the surface.

Ludger chose a tree at the edge of the water, its roots dipping into the soil where the ground softened. He sat cross-legged beneath the shade, resting his pack beside him. While the others busied themselves, he focused inward, pulling at the strands of mana in his core. His fingers twitched faintly as he coaxed a small glow into his palm, shaping and reshaping it, forcing his control to sharpen.

Meanwhile, laughter and splashing filled the air.

Arslan and Harold had waded into the shallows with Viola between them, and rather than scolding them, she was squealing with joy as they tossed her high into the air. She spun wildly, landing with a splash before being thrown again, her delighted shrieks echoing across the water. To anyone else it might have looked reckless, even dangerous, but Viola’s grin stretched from ear to ear.

“Higher!” she shouted. “Again!”

Selene, watching from the bank with arms crossed, muttered, “Idiots, the lot of them.”

Aleia, on the other hand, was perched on a rock, bowstring drawn. With a playful whistle, she loosed an arrow into the water. A silver flash erupted beneath the surface, and when she tugged the arrow back, a fat fish wriggled on its point. She laughed, holding it aloft like a trophy.

“Dinner’s sorted!” she called.

Ludger’s eyes flicked toward them briefly before returning to his palm, where the mana spark pulsed faintly. The others could waste time, but he wasn’t going to. If there was one thing the labyrinth had taught him, it was that patience and control mattered as much as power.

He exhaled slowly, letting the spark collapse. I’ll let them play. I’ve got better things to do.

On the opposite side of the lake, Cor sat beneath another tree, his leather-bound book lay open in his hands. His calm eyes moved steadily across the pages, but every so often, his gaze flicked over the rim of the parchment.

To Ludger.

The boy sat under his own tree, palms glowing faintly as he pulled at threads of mana, shaping and unraveling them again and again. There was no clumsy reliance on the System guiding him—just raw effort, trial, and error.

Cor’s lips pressed into a thin line, his attention lingering longer than usual. Given that he had already taught Ludger the basics of Sage work, it was no surprise that the child could manage simple spells. [Mana Bolt], [Create Water], even the beginnings of [Mana Wall] were expected. But this…

He’s attempting mana burning, Cor thought, watching the faint shimmer that pulsed over the boy’s hands. At his age, most children would barely manage to shape mana without collapsing in exhaustion. And yet, he’s forcing his body to refine it.

Cor closed his book, resting it on his knee, though he didn’t speak up. It wasn’t just the skill that impressed him—it was the will. Ludger wasn’t content with waiting for lessons. He was reaching, clawing for more, in a way Cor had rarely seen.

The sage adjusted his glasses, his gaze narrowing. Impressive. But it is dangerous. Too much ambition burns brighter than it should… and sometimes, it burns out completely.

He returned to his book, though his eyes flicked up more often than the words deserved.

Cor turned a page in his book, though he barely glanced at the words. His attention kept drifting back to the boy beneath the opposite tree. Ludger’s mana flared again, weak but steady, pulsing like the heartbeat of a child determined to keep running long after his legs had given out.

The sage exhaled through his nose, almost amused at himself. He had always believed taking on a student would be nothing but trouble—tedious questions, slow progress, the endless frustration of repeating the same lessons. He’d told himself more than once that he wasn’t made to be a teacher.

And yet here he was, his eyes following every flicker of mana like it mattered.

Maybe it was because it wasn’t just him. Training Ludger had become a team effort—Selene drilling his body, Aleia sharpening his instincts, Harold toughening his spirit, even Arslan, for all his bluster, playing a part. With the burden spread across so many hands, it didn’t feel like a weight pressing down.

But there was something else too.

Cor adjusted his grip on his staff, his gaze narrowing. This boy isn’t ordinary. He hides it well, but the way he grows, the way he reaches beyond the lessons handed to him… it’s different. He’s different.

For the first time in years, Cor felt a quiet spark of possibility. Perhaps this is what it means to leave a legacy. Not through books, accomplishments or spells etched in stone, but through shaping someone who might one day surpass you. Someone who could be even greater.

The thought made him close his book completely, resting it on his lap. He allowed himself a small smile, one no one else would see.

Strange. I never thought I’d care to teach anyone. And yet, here I am… hoping he succeeds.

The sky deepened into shades of violet and gold, the last light of day stretching long across the hills. Fireflies began to gather at the water’s edge, their glow mingling with the fading sun.

Arslan and Harold finally waded back to shore, dripping wet and laughing like boys half their age. Viola followed, clothes clinging to her but face glowing with excitement, her scowl nowhere to be seen. She shook the water from her hair and declared, “Next time, I’ll throw you.”

“Ha!” Harold roared, ruffling her hair as though she were half his size. “Then I’ll look forward to it, little bull.”

Selene shook her head, but she didn’t lecture them. Aleia had already packed away her bow, a string of fish tied neatly at her hip. Cor closed his book, sliding it into his robes, and tapped his staff against the ground once.

“The sun’s gone,” he said, voice calm but firm. “If we linger any longer, the old bull will be angrier than he already is.”

That reminder made Viola’s smile falter, though only for an instant. Arslan, of course, waved it off with his usual grin. “He’ll live. It’s not the first time I’ve been late.”

Selene’s glare sharpened. “And you still have a head on your shoulders. Miraculous.”

Ludger rose from beneath his tree, dusting off his trousers. His body still hummed faintly from his mana practice, but his focus was already shifting back to reality. Playtime’s over. Now comes the grilling.

The group mounted up, the carriage door closing behind Viola as the horses snorted impatiently. The lake’s surface smoothed again, as if swallowing their laughter into silence.

By the time they set off down the road, the first stars had begun to prick the sky. The glow of Meronia's city lights was already visible in the distance—along with the certainty that Viola’s grandfather would be waiting.

The ride back to the city was quieter than before. The horses’ hooves beat a steady rhythm against the cobbled road, the faint glow of the city drawing closer with every mile.

Arslan rode ahead, unusually thoughtful. His grin was still there, but it tugged at the edges nervously. “All right,” he muttered to himself, loud enough for Ludger to hear, “what’s the play this time? Say the horses went lame? No, Harold’s beast could trample a wall and not stumble. Hmm… maybe a goblin ambush? But if I say that, he’ll ask why Viola isn’t covered in blood. Damn…”

Selene’s sigh cut through the air like a blade. “You’ve had twenty years to learn how to plan an excuse, and still you haven’t improved.”

Aleia giggled from behind. “Just say the truth. You thought it’d be fun to waste time at the lake.”

“That’s suicide,” Arslan groaned, slumping in his saddle.

Harold laughed so hard his axe rattled against his back. “Relax! The worst he’ll do is bark at you. Unless Viola speaks up, then you’re doomed.”

Viola, sitting smugly in the carriage, crossed her arms and didn’t answer. The faintest smirk tugged at her lips, as though she enjoyed the idea of watching her father squirm.

Ludger shook his head. He really is hopeless. He can fight monsters without blinking, but one old man has him trembling like a child.

By the time the gates of Meronia loomed before them, night had fully settled. The torches along the walls flickered in the breeze, casting long shadows. Guards opened the way without delay, but their stiff posture made it clear they’d been expecting the party.

And sure enough, waiting in the courtyard of the Torvares estate stood Lord Torvares himself.

His cloak caught the torchlight, red and gold blazing like fire. His arms were clasped firmly behind his back, his sharp gray-green eyes already narrowed. He didn’t need to shout—the sheer weight of his presence made the entire group seem smaller as they approached.

Arslan tried to grin, but the sweat along his temple betrayed him. “Ah… evening, sir. We’re back safe and sound, no scratches, as promised.”

Lord Torvares’s gaze slid over the group, pausing on Viola, who was damp, flushed, and clearly far too pleased with herself. Then his eyes fixed on Arslan.

“You are late.”

The words were calm. Heavy. Absolute.

Arslan chuckled weakly, opening his mouth—then shut it again when the old man raised an eyebrow. Every excuse he had rehearsed on the road withered before it reached his tongue.

Ludger watched in silence, lips twitching as he thought, For once, he’s speechless. Maybe that’s the best outcome.

The courtyard was silent but for the rustle of banners and the stamping of restless horses. Lord Torvares’s eyes bore into Arslan, sharp enough to cut stone.

Then, before Arslan could dig himself into a shallow grave with a bad excuse, Viola stepped forward. She bowed her head slightly, her voice calm and steady.

“It was a good experience,” she said. “I saw how battles should be fought. How to move, how to wait. I learned more today than I would have in weeks at home.”

The words hung in the air like a drawn bowstring.

Everyone blinked.

Selene frowned first, her eyes narrowing as if she were trying to match the girl before her with the scowling brat she’d seen hours earlier. Harold’s mouth opened slightly, confusion written all over his broad face. Aleia tilted her head, lips twitching in amusement. Even Cor’s usually impassive gaze sharpened.

Something about the tone—measured, thoughtful, restrained—was off. It was too formal, too collected.

And then it struck them.

She was copying Ludger.

The same calm voice, the same deliberate choice of words, the same aura of someone above the noise.

Ludger raised an eyebrow, biting back the smirk that threatened to creep across his lips. So even she noticed. Not bad… but she still sounds like she’s playing dress-up.

Lord Torvares studied her for a long, tense moment. Then, slowly, he nodded once. “Good.”

Arslan sagged with relief, grinning like a fool, though Selene smacked her forehead in exasperation. Harold muttered, “Unbelievable,” while Aleia whispered to Ludger, “You’re a bad influence already.”

Ludger just shrugged, arms crossed. If she’s smart enough to copy me, maybe she’ll grow out of her recklessness. There is still hope, though, not much.