Ludger spent half the night thinking about how they were supposed to travel south without turning the entire trip into a disaster.

  The fastest method was obvious:

  the underground tunnels he’d carved months ago, sealed, interconnected, and stretching from Lionfang to several key regions. They were silent, fast, hidden, and perfect for covert movement. Except for one problem. Renvar.

  Renvar, who talked before thinking. Renvar, who bragged before breathing. Renvar, who would absolutely tell the first barmaid, merchant, or stray dog that “the Lionsguard has secret tunnels under the empire!” Then half the empire would be whispering about it, drawing attention to Torvares, Lionfang, and Ludger’s own involvement.

  He could already imagine the chaos.If he rejected Renvar later? The brat would spill everything out of spite or stupidity. If he accepted Renvar into the guild? The brat would spill everything out of excitement.

  There was no winning. Still, Ludger weighed it carefully and sighed. There was no better route unless they wanted to spend weeks on horseback with Kaela threatening to stab someone every sunrise. Underground it was.

  The group gathered at the front of the Lionsguard guild before dawn. Kaela was already cracking her knuckles. Renvar looked half-awake but vibrating with forced enthusiasm.

  Maurien was already focused.

  The second squad arrived to see them off, the kids waved sleepy goodbyes, and several townsfolk peeked out to watch the unusual team gathering. Ludger addressed them quickly.

  “While I’m gone, second squad will handle lessons. Yvar will supervise. Don’t burn the guild down.”

  Several kids saluted. Marie muttered something about fire hazards.

  Kaela grinned wickedly at Renvar. Renvar tried to grin back but only succeeded in looking terrified. Ludger turned and motioned for them to follow.

  “Let’s move.”

  He led them under the guild building, toward the storage room. Within seconds, he lifted a small stone wall with his foot, and the hidden slab of earth slid aside like a well-oiled mechanism.

  A dark, yawning stairway opened beneath them, no torches, no light, no sound except the faint hum of mana.

  Renvar stopped dead. Kaela popped her neck and sighed.

  “Oh, great,” she groaned. “I love the speed, but I hate the darkness. It always feels like I’m walking inside a snake’s stomach.”

  Ludger glanced over his shoulder. “You’ll get used to it.”

  “No, I won’t,” Kaela muttered. “I like seeing what I’m about to stab.”

  Renvar peered into the abyss and whispered, “Is this… safe?”

  “No,” Ludger said honestly. “Now get in.”

  When they reached the central transit chamber, a broad, smoothed-out cavern Ludger had carved months ago to serve as a docking point for whatever stone vehicle he needed. the boy stopped and stared.

  Then squinted. Then frowned, hard. Because instead of his usual stone cart, the plain, sturdy, brutally efficient slab on wheels he used for silent underground travel… Someone had left behind something else entirely. A wagon.

  No, calling it a wagon felt disrespectful. It was almost a miniature underground carriage, fully equipped and painfully out of place in the middle of a mana-carved tunnel system.

  It had walls. It had fitted wooden panels polished to a soft sheen. It had cushioned benches, and, somehow, even two reclining beds tucked neatly against the back wall. Compartments lined the sides for supplies, tools, weapons, and rations. And the wheels? Reinforced with curved stone rims joints.

  Even the lantern brackets were carved with decorative edging. Ludger stared at it like it had personally offended him. Kaela, on the other hand, lit up with smug satisfaction so bright it could’ve powered a whole magic circle.

  “Oh,” she said, voice dripping with self-satisfied triumph. “Look at that. A real wagon. With comfort. And beds. And actual walls. Finally, one of you geniuses realized underground travel doesn’t have to feel like being stuffed inside a coffin with wheels.”

  Renvar pressed both palms against the polished wood. “This is incredible…! Who built it? It’s so smooth!”

  Ludger rubbed his forehead. He knew exactly who.

  “Yvar,” he muttered. “It has to be Yvar.”

  Kaela blinked. “Yvar? Why would he build something like this?”

  Ludger gave her a deadpan look.

  She frowned. “What? Don’t give me that expression. Explain.”

  Ludger sighed.

  Because the alternative, that Yvar, a man who collected paperwork for fun and organized scrolls alphabetically for peace of mind, had created a luxury underground travel wagon to impress Kaela, was… disturbing. And suicidal.

  Kaela was chaos given human shape. Yvar was the calm that librarians prayed to for tranquility. If those two were ever put in a romantic equation, the solution wouldn’t be flowers or dates. It would be property damage. Probably emotional trauma.

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  “Never mind,” Ludger finally said. “I’m overthinking it.”

  And he really hoped he was. Because imagining Yvar trying to “score points” with Kaela was like imagining a rabbit trying to romance a thunderstorm.

  More likely, Yvar simply thought: Ludger never cared about comfort. Kaela complained loudly enough to shake the guild walls. Renvar would trip on a rock and break his spine without padded seating. And since they were traveling for weeks, someone should be able to sleep properly

  Which… fine. From a logistical perspective, it made sense. But the size irritated Ludger.

  “It’s too big,” he said. “ It’ll slow us down.”

  Kaela rolled her eyes and hopped inside. “You can cross half the continent underground faster than most merchants cross a valley. You’ll survive a slightly larger wagon. Now stop sulking and get in.”

  Renvar scrambled inside after her, nearly tripping over one of the storage compartments. Ludger stood there a moment longer, glaring at the upgraded vehicle like it had stabbed him. Then he stepped inside with resignation, gripping the mana stone embedded in the control panel.

  He sent a pulse of earth-aspected mana outward, the tunnel’s path shifting and locking in place. The wagon lurched forward gently as the ground moved beneath it, beginning its smooth trip southward.

  More comfort. More space. More room for chaos. And likely… More headaches. Ludger already knew this trip was going to test his patience in entirely new, unexpected ways.

  Ludger settled into the front corner of the wagon. He released a steady pulse of earth-aspected mana, measured, controlled, letting it seep into the tunnel infrastructure.

  The ground responded immediately, the stone under the wheels shifting like a conveyor. The wagon began moving smoothly forward with barely a vibration while gaining speed.

  He closed his eyes for a moment, monitoring the flow. Mana out. Mana in. Recovery rate. Pressure resistance. Weight compensation. After thirty seconds of calculations, he nodded to himself.

  “Good. Even with the extra weight, the consumption's stable. I can maintain this indefinitely as long as I don’t waste mana on anything else.”

  Kaela let out a relieved groan as she sprawled across one of the padded benches, already enjoying the comfort. Renvar hung off the back of a chair, fascinated by how the wagon moved without wheels turning. Ludger ignore both of them. Maurien stayed silent with his arms crossed and eyes closed.

  The tunnel ahead was dark, the kind of pitch-black that swallowed everything.

  Perfect for training. He lifted one hand, index finger extended. His mana flowed to the surface like ink ready to write.

  He traced a single word in midair, one in a language this world didn’t even have. Fire Arrow

  The bright letters burned in front of him for a heartbeat, then fused. An arrow of condensed flame materialized in the air before streaking down the tunnel, illuminating the passage in a rolling glow until it faded into darkness.

  Renvar gasped. Kaela tilted her head, unimpressed but curious. Ludger didn’t stop.

  He wrote again, this time shorter, faster, pushing the motion into muscle memory. Triple Fire Arrows.

  The letters brightened and warped into magic.

  A set of three flaming projectiles formed in rapid succession, launching one after another with sharp fwish-fwish-fwish sounds. They streaked forward in a beautiful arc of light, painting the walls orange before disappearing into the void.

  His System chimed quietly in the back of his mind.

  [Wordweaver Skill + 15 XP]

  Ludger allowed himself a rare, faint smile. Good. The runic mage class seemed stubborn about leveling unless forced. But Wordweaver, this strange hybrid technique mixing linguistics, intent, mana, and elemental shaping, was accelerating things far faster than traditional runes.

  Perfect. He could feel the runic pathways in his mind shifting, widening, as if the class itself was preparing to grant him something new at the next threshold.

  “Not bad,” Ludger murmured, flexing his fingers as glowing letters faded into the darkness.

  Kaela, having watched the whole thing upside-down from her seat, snorted. “You and your weird scribble magic… one day you’re going to write something embarrassing by accident.”

  Renvar’s eyes shone. “Can you teach me that?! Please?!”

  “No,” Ludger answered instantly.

  The wagon continued gliding through the subterranean highway, smooth and silent, while the walls flashed with intermittent bursts of magical light from his ongoing practice. And Ludger continued writing, shaping, and refining, determined to hit the next breakthrough before they reached the southern coast. After all, if they were going to fight an international pirate guild… He wanted every advantage he could get.

  Maurien watched Ludger cast another sequence of glowing letters in the air, eyes narrowing with a mixture of curiosity and disapproval. After a long stretch of silence, he finally spoke.

  “Are you certain you should be using that much mana continuously?”

  His tone wasn’t nagging or judgmental, it was practical, the same way he asked whether someone had sharpened their blade before entering a labyrinth.

  Maurien lifted a hand and casually summoned a sphere of pale light between his fingertips. The orb floated forward, illuminating the tunnel ahead with steady, calm brightness.

  “Light is enough to handle visibility,” he added. “You don’t need to waste mana on flashy spells while also powering our transportation.”

  Ludger lowered his hand slightly, the last trace of the word Bolt fading from the air. He considered the advice… then shrugged.

  “I’ll be fine. I’m recovering faster than I’m spending.”

  Maurien didn’t argue, he simply watched him with that unreadable hunter’s gaze until Ludger changed the subject.

  “You’re more focused than usual,” Ludger said. “You always get like this before a hunt? Sharpening your instincts? Improving reaction speed?”

  Maurien nodded without hesitation.

  “Yes. Before every mission that matters.” His voice was calm, but his eyes, sharp as a hawk’s, reflected something colder. “I prepare myself until there is no room for hesitation. Decisions must be instantaneous. Movements must be precise. Anything less means failure.”

  He rested a hand on the wagon’s railing, fingers tightening slightly.

  “Especially now,” he continued, voice soft but firm. “With how things are changing… with how many factions are testing their limits… every mistake in the present becomes a problem in the future.”

  Ludger listened without interrupting. Maurien’s jaw tightened.

  “The last incidents involving nobles… the underworld operatives… the cloaked man you mentioned…” He drew a slow breath. “I realized I cannot allow any bandit, smuggler, or pirate like that to walk away. Anyone like them who survives, spreads. Infects. Becomes something worse later.”

  Ludger understood exactly what he meant. It was the same logic that drove him to destroy the Iron Moth Brotherhood completely. The same logic that made him bring kids into Lionfang so they wouldn’t grow into criminals out of desperation.

  Letting one gang survive meant five more in a decade. Letting one trafficker escape meant ten more children suffering later.

  “Every mistake becomes a problem,” Ludger echoed.

  Maurien nodded once. “And I do not intend to fail. Not when so many consequences now ripple outward.”

  Ludger looked forward into the darkness, watching the light orb drift ahead like a guiding star. Maurien’s focus wasn’t just sharp. It was razor-honed by purpose. Good. They were going to need that kind of clarity, because pirates backed by an international underworld guild were not the type of enemy anyone could afford to underestimate.