The next dawn, Ludger tried again. He set out at full tilt, arms pumping, legs burning. He wanted to know how far he could go before his body forced him to stop. The answer was… disappointing.

His short legs carried him fast, yes, but not far. After less than an hour at top speed, his lungs were on fire, his muscles locked tight, and sweat blinded his eyes. When he finally stumbled to a halt, chest heaving, he realized he hadn’t even covered 25% the distance to the goblin dungeon.

He ground his teeth, frustration flaring. Too small. Too weak. My reach is limited by this body.

Still, he walked back the long way, letting his breathing recover, his mind sharper now that the fire in his legs dulled.

I need another angle. Maybe a class that helps with stamina. Speed. Something to make my steps count for more. If there’s a Job that turns running itself into growth, I should take it. Or something like Scout, Ranger, maybe even Courier…

By the time the city walls came into view, Ludger’s irritation had cooled into focus. The tournament had proven that the right Job could change everything, and if his current ones couldn’t solve his problem, then it was time to add another.

He wiped the sweat from his face and squared his shoulders. If I want the goblin dungeon in a single day, I’ll need more than just grit. I’ll need the right class to carry me there.

At dinner, Ludger finally decided to test the waters. He waited until Elaine had calmed enough to sip her wine instead of glaring at the front door, and then spoke casually, like it was an afterthought.

“Mother… do you know any couriers?”

Elaine froze mid-sip. Her eyes narrowed slightly, the faintest crease forming between her brows. “Couriers?” she repeated, setting the cup down with a soft clink. “Why do you ask?”

Ludger shrugged, keeping his voice even. “I wanted to know how they work. How they move so fast, how they keep going for so long.”

Elaine leaned forward, her gaze sharp as a blade. “You’re not trying to get information about the war, are you?”

“No,” Ludger said quickly, shaking his head. “I just want to learn how they do it. That’s all.”

But that only deepened her frown. She studied him for a long moment, her aura prickling faintly, heavy enough to make the air feel thick. Finally, she sighed and leaned back, still looking unconvinced.

“You’ve been asking strange questions lately,” she muttered. “Couriers break themselves running messages across the empire. It’s dangerous work, Ludger. They collapse on the roads, fall to bandits, get caught in storms. It isn’t something I’d ever want you to think about.”

“I don’t want to be one,” Ludger said flatly, “I just want to know how they do it.”

Elaine’s lips pressed into a thin line. Puzzlement flickered across her face, but behind it was the same old worry, sharper than ever.

She reached across the table, cupping his cheek in one hand. “You don’t need to run like them. You don’t need to learn their ways. You just need to stay here, with me, where it’s safe.”

Ludger suppressed a sigh. Of course. To her, every road leads to danger. Even the thought of running becomes a threat.

Still, he tucked the reaction away, keeping his mask in place. Her puzzlement told him one thing—she didn’t see where he was going with this. Which meant he still had room to maneuver.

The next morning, Elaine surprised him.

She caught him in the house as he was heading out for his usual “errands,” her arms crossed, her expression unreadable. “If you really want to know how couriers work,” she said, “then you’ll see it with me. Not alone.”

Ludger raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. If she was willing to show him something instead of smothering the topic, he’d take it.

They walked through the city until they reached a squat, unremarkable building wedged between warehouses near the merchant quarter. No banners, no guards, just a weathered sign marked with the empire’s seal.

Inside, the air smelled of ink, parchment, and sweat. A single old man sat behind a battered desk, spectacles perched on his nose, his ink-stained fingers flipping through stacks of sealed letters. He stamped each one with a heavy iron seal, then tossed them into wooden trays.

Around the room, a handful of rough-looking youths and lean runners loitered, waiting. Every so often the old man would call out a name, slap a bundle of letters onto the desk, and toss a few coins on top. A runner would grab them and dash out the door, vanishing into the streets.

“That’s the first stop,” Elaine murmured beside him, her tone clipped. “Messages from outside the city come here. The clerks sort them. Then the smaller couriers—the cheap ones—take over for local delivery.”

Her frown deepened as she looked at him. “It isn’t glamorous, Ludger. No one here is a hero. They’re paid a handful of coins to run until their feet bleed. You’ll notice they’re all boys and girls desperate enough to take the work. Not soldiers. Not nobles. Just fodder.”

Ludger said nothing, but his eyes lingered on the runners. Their wiry frames, the way they stretched their legs before sprinting out the door, the speed with which they vanished into the city.

He could almost see the system behind it. The stamina. The endurance. The rhythm of constant motion.

It wasn’t glamour he was after. It was technique.

Elaine sighed when she caught the glint in his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking of copying them.”

Ludger gave her a thin smile. “Just watching how they work.”

But in his head, the plan was already forming.

The old man barely looked up from his desk when Ludger and Elaine entered. His quill scratched across parchment, the sound dry and constant, broken only when he barked at a youth to “Hurry it up, or I’ll find someone faster!”

Elaine stood back with her arms crossed, clearly expecting Ludger to glance around and lose interest. Instead, he stepped right up to the desk.

The clerk finally glanced down, frowning at the sight of a child. “Lost, boy?” he muttered, voice gravelly from years of smoke and ink dust.

“I want to know how they do it,” Ludger said, pointing toward the runners outside. “How they run that far, that fast, without stopping.”

The man blinked, then let out a sharp laugh that turned into a cough. “That’s all you want? Thought you were here to beg for coin.” He squinted at Ludger again, then leaned back in his chair, the quill tapping against his knuckle.

“Running’s simple. You don’t just sprint like a fool—you pace yourself. Breath in through the nose, out through the mouth. Eat light, drink water whenever you can. And when your legs start to give out, you don’t stop—you shorten your stride, lean forward, and keep moving.”

Elaine frowned, stepping closer. “He doesn’t need to know—”

“Relax, woman,” the old man cut her off, waving a hand. “I’m not teaching him to gamble his life on the road. Just telling him how not to fall on his face.” He smirked at Ludger. “Besides, he’s listening closer than half the fools I pay.”

Ludger kept his expression flat, but inside he was already dissecting every word. Pace. Breathing. Shorten the stride. Keep moving.

Elaine’s hand twitched at her side, her aura flaring just enough to make the air heavy. Ludger glanced back at her, then turned to the old man again.

“And endurance?” he asked. “How do you push past when your body wants to stop?”

The old man chuckled. “That’s the trick, lad. You don’t push through the pain—you ride it. Run often enough, and your body learns. Muscles harden, lungs stretch. Most give up before that happens. The ones who don’t…” His eyes gleamed with quiet pride. “…they become real couriers.”

Elaine sighed sharply, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Satisfied, Ludger?”

But Ludger only nodded once, storing the lesson away like a blade hidden under his sleeve.

Ludger didn’t step back. He leaned a little closer over the desk, ignoring the way Elaine’s aura sharpened like a drawn blade behind him.

“What else do couriers do?” he asked. “Besides running. What’s their job really like?”

The old man raised a brow, scratching at the stubble on his jaw. “Persistent brat, aren’t you? Fine. A courier’s more than legs. We’re the lifeline between towns, armies, and nobles. If a message doesn’t reach the right hands, people die. So you learn to read the roads, dodge patrols, slip past bandits. You memorize paths in your sleep, know which wells are safe, which villages will feed you, and which will slit your throat for a coin purse. You learn to endure. That’s the job.”

Ludger nodded slowly, soaking in every word. He could feel it—the click of something fitting into place.

The old man snorted. “Not that you’ll ever try it. Kids like you are better off with books and tutors.”

But then it came.

A faint chime in the back of Ludger’s mind, followed by the shimmer of glowing text only he could see.

----------------------------------------

You have acquired a new Class: [Courier Lv. 01]

Skill Obtained: [Dash Lv. 01]

Accelerate your movement for a short burst of speed equal to five percent multiplied by the level of the skill. Consumes stamina proportional to distance, but the cost decreases with level ups.

----------------------------------------

Ludger kept his face perfectly flat, but his heart thudded in his chest. Got it.

Exactly what he needed.

He bowed his head slightly, masking the spark in his eyes. “Thank you for answering.”

The old man waved him off, already turning back to his parchment. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t trip on your way home.”

Elaine narrowed her eyes at Ludger, clearly suspicious of his sudden politeness, but said nothing as she took his hand and pulled him out of the building.

Behind his calm mask, Ludger’s mind was already racing. With [Dash], his legs weren’t bound by age anymore. The dungeon was no longer out of reach.

Name: Ludger

Level: 22(1,450 / 2,300)

Current Job: Cook (Lv 25 – 620 / 2,500)

Current Class: Pugilist (Lv 21 – 1,300 / 2,200)

Health: 790 / 790

Mana: 1,310 / 1,340

Stamina: 1010 / 1040

Strength: 77

Dexterity: 72

Intelligence: 105

Vitality: 69

Wisdom: 134

Endurance: 104

Luck: 27

----------------------------------------

Class Skills (Pugilist) Lv 22: +2 Str, +2 Vit

[Hard Fists Lv 25]

[Iron Guard Lv 17]

[Quick Fists Lv 02]

[Straight Cannon Lv 03]

[Quick Speed Lv 03]

----------------------------------------

Job Skills (Cook) Lv 26: +1 Dex, +1 Intelligence, and +1 Wisdom

[Knife Handling Lv 30]

[Seasoning Sense Lv 22]

[Fire Control Lv 19]

[Food Preservation Lv 18]

[Dish Presentation Lv 15]

[Quick Cooking Lv 05]

[Brewing Lv 05]

----------------------------------------

Other Classes:

Mage (Lv 18 – 1,000 / 1,900) +2 INT, +2 WIS

[Create Water Lv 18]

[Tinder Lv 10]

[Dust Lv 04]

[Cold Wind Lv 04]

----------------------------------------

Swordsman (Lv 16 – 750 / 1,700) +2 STR, +2 DEX

[Basic Swordplay Lv 12]

[Parry Lv 05]

[Quick Thrust Lv 03]

[Counter Stance Lv 03]

----------------------------------------

Sage (Lv 15 – 600 / 1,600) +2 INT, +4 WIS

[Mana Bolt Lv 10]

[Mana Wall Lv 06]

[Spiritual Core Lv 06]

[Slot 4]

[Slot 5]

----------------------------------------

Druid (Lv 05 – 200 / 600) Int +3, Wis +3

[Healing Touch Lv 11]

[Root Snare Lv 01]

----------------------------------------

Bard Lv 3 (100 / 300)- Bonus per Level: +1 INT, +1 WIS, +1 DEX]

[Song of Ease Lv 7]

----------------------------------------

Courier (Lv 01– 00 / 100) Dex +1, End +3

[Dash Lv 1]

That night, after Elaine had retired, Ludger slipped back into the courtyard. The moon was high, the air cool, and the silence perfect.

He stretched, steadied his breathing, then whispered in his mind:

[Dash].

His body lurched forward like he’d been kicked by a horse. The world blurred, the stones of the courtyard rushing under his feet before he even realized he’d moved. He skidded to a halt at the far wall, his heart hammering, lungs pulling for air.

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. So that’s how it feels.

Again.

[Dash].

He shot forward, faster this time, but his legs burned, the sudden torque jarring his joints. He stumbled, caught himself, and straightened.

Again.

Over and over, until his thighs felt like they’d been stuffed with hot coals, until his calves trembled and refused to respond. By the end, his legs were jelly, every step threatening to spill him into the dirt.

He collapsed onto the ground, sweat steaming off him in the cool night. His breath rasped in his chest. He could barely twitch his toes.

“Still… worth it,” he muttered.

His palms glowed faintly, and he pressed them to his legs. [Healing Touch]. Warmth flooded into aching muscles, the sharp edge of pain softening into a manageable throb. Enough to keep him on his feet tomorrow, at least.

Then the notification flickered before his eyes.

----------------------------------------

Skill [Dash] has leveled up! → Lv. 02

Courier Class: +10 EXP

----------------------------------------

Ludger lay back on the stones, staring up at the stars. His legs still screamed, but his grin widened. He had carved out more speed, more reach, and no one else knew.

Step by step, burst by burst, he was breaking free of his limits.

A few days later, Elaine cornered him in the dining room. Her eyes narrowed, that dangerous glint flickering in them like a knife catching the sun.

“You’ve been running a lot lately,” she said, her voice smooth but edged. “Why? Don’t tell me you’re planning to run all the way to the war.”

Ludger froze mid-bite of bread, then let out a short laugh. “Me? Risk my life for the empire?” He shook his head, smirking faintly. “Didn’t the tournament prove that’s not happening? I’ve already had my fill of noble politics and bloodthirsty brats.”

Elaine’s gaze sharpened, but his tone carried enough sarcasm to ease the tension just slightly. Still, she leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand as her stare bored into him.

“You joke,” she said softly, “but I know that mind of yours. Always planning. Always scheming. I won’t have you slipping away to chase after your father’s recklessness.”

Ludger shrugged, feigning innocence. “Relax, Mom. I run because it’s cheaper than a carriage and quieter than listening to nobles. That’s all.”

Her eyes lingered on him, searching, possessive, suspicious. But eventually, she exhaled, leaning back with a small huff.

“Good. Because if I ever find out you’re even thinking about setting foot on a battlefield…” Her smile was sweet, but her aura was suffocating. “I’ll make sure that your father won’t ever leave this house again.”

Ludger bit into his bread again, unbothered on the surface. Inside, though, he was already planning his next training run. He felt bad for Arslan, though. It seemed that he was going to be punished for the actions of his son…

A few days later, the house door creaked open, and the sound of weary boots and hooves filled the courtyard. Arslan and his party had returned.

They didn’t stride in with their usual swagger. Their movements were heavy, shoulders slumped, weapons strapped lazily at their backs. Dust clung to their cloaks, blood stained the edges of their armor, and fresh bandages peeked from beneath the leather.

Selene’s left arm was strapped tight to her chest. Harold walked with a limp, one hand pressed against a crude patch of wrappings around his thigh. Aleia’s bow was cracked down the middle, her cheek cut deep, leaving a scar that seemed that would never fade. Even Cor, normally untouchable behind his layers of spells, had a burn seared along his forearm.

And Arslan… his grin was gone. His shirt was torn, ribs bandaged, and a new scar ran jagged from his collarbone to his side. His eyes were still bright, but the weight in them was heavier than Ludger had ever seen.

Elaine burst from the doorway like a storm. She didn’t ask questions. She seized Arslan by the collar, dragging him inside with terrifying strength, her fury rattling the windows.

“You came back broken,” she hissed, her voice shaking the air. “Do you know how close I was to dragging your soul back myself?”

Arslan winced, his smile crooked and tired. “Alive counts for something, doesn’t it?”

But even as he tried to joke, Ludger could see it clearly.

They weren’t used to this. Fighting monsters was one thing—predictable, brutal, but simple. Fighting people was different. People thought, schemed, aimed to maim and kill in ways beasts never could. And the scars on Arslan’s party proved it.

Ludger’s eyes lingered on the wounds, his face unreadable. So the war really is that bad.

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