Chapter 62

The weeks slipped by without incident. No shadows on the walls. No shiver of bloodlust in the air. No more bodies in the grass.

On the surface, life settled back into routine—Elaine’s hovering warmth, Viola’s relentless sparring demands, Luna’s steady efficiency. If anyone had watched the house from outside, they would have seen nothing but a family’s daily rhythm.

And Luna? She looked the same as ever. Calm. Polished. Eyes clear, movements precise. Whatever information she’d gathered, whatever blood trails she might have followed in the city, she carried it without a flicker of change. No slip, no sign.

To everyone else, she was just a maid serving tea.

But Ludger knew better. He noticed the way her gaze lingered half a second too long on certain strangers in the market. The way she timed her errands with uncanny precision. The way her cloak sometimes smelled faintly of the city’s deeper alleys when she returned.

And still, she shared nothing. Not a word. Ludger’s smirk thinned into a frown as he lay back in his bed one night, staring at the ceiling.

She’s not going to tell me. Not anymore. She made her choice—that I’m out of it.

He tapped his knuckles against his chest, mana humming faintly through his core. If Luna wouldn’t talk, there was only one other person who might. Someone who always seemed to know more than he should.

Maurien.

The thought lingered sharp in his mind. The old mage had already warned him once, shielded him in name only, leaving the real danger for Ludger to handle. If anyone had threads to know on the assassins, it would be him.

The question was whether Ludger dared to pull on those threads… or if Maurien would simply use the chance to test him further.

Ludger didn’t wait. One morning, he slipped out under the excuse of “running errands” again and wound his way through the capital’s streets toward the mage quarter. If Maurien wasn’t going to come to him, then he’d go to Maurien.

But the closer he drew to the familiar streets, the clearer the rumors became.

“Old Maurien? Left about a week ago.”

“Packed up fast.”

“North, I heard. Something about duty. Or boredom. Who knows with that one.”

Ludger listened, silent, his jaw tight. A week ago—right after the assassins. That wasn’t a coincidence.

He stood in the shadow of a spice stall, thinking it through. Maurien, gone. Quietly. A man with enough magic to turn half the city inside out if he wanted, suddenly deciding to leave

now

.

Why?

By rights, a mage of his caliber should have been conscripted to the war months ago. That he’d stayed behind when the border was burning had been strange enough. Now, with the city “calm” again, he suddenly decided to lend a hand?

Ludger clicked his tongue, irritation sharp under his breath.

No. He waited. He stayed here for a reason. Watched me, shielded me, then left the moment I cleaned up my first mess.

The timing was too neat. Ludger shoved his hands into his pockets and started back toward the estate, smirk tugging at his lips despite himself. “You really are throwing me into the deep end, old man. Fine. I’ll swim.”

Still, as the crowd bustled around him, the thought pressed heavier: if Maurien was finally moving to the border, it meant the Empire’s war wasn’t cooling down at all. It was heating up. And he had just lost the one adult who might’ve told him the truth.

By the time Ludger slipped back into home, Viola was already waiting in the courtyard with a wooden practice sword balanced across her shoulders.

“Took you long enough,” she said, smirking. “What were you doing? Hiding from me in the market?”

Ludger brushed past her toward the water basin, rinsing his hands. “Errands.”

Viola narrowed her eyes. “Suspicious errands. Your Mother said you were gone half the morning.”

“Mother says a lot of things,” Ludger muttered. He grabbed a towel, drying his hands. “You want a spar or not?”

That was all the invitation she needed. Viola tossed her practice blade into a ready stance, grin flashing. “Finally. Don’t think you’ll hold back this time.”

They squared off in the courtyard. Elaine sat nearby under the awning with her embroidery, pretending not to watch—though Ludger knew her eyes never really left them. Luna stood a step behind Viola, quiet as ever, arms folded.

The first clash came fast. Viola darted in, Overdrive flickering faintly in her aura, her blade cutting sharp. Ludger deflected with his forearm guard, the impact rattling up his arm.

She pulled back and struck again, faster this time. Not wild, not reckless—

measured

.

Ludger smirked as he slipped to the side. “You’ve been listening.”

Viola’s grin widened, sweat already beading her brow. “What can I say? I learn quickly.”

He tested her with a feint, expecting the usual reckless overcommit. But instead, she checked herself mid-swing, redirected, and nearly clipped his shoulder. Ludger blinked, surprised despite himself.

Her footwork was tighter. Her aura control smoother. Even her bursts of Overdrive came in short, efficient flares, not the full-blown reckless surges she used to burn herself out with.

Obvious improvement.

Ludger slid back, lips curling into a half-smile. “Hnh. Maybe you’re not completely hopeless after all.”

Viola barked a laugh and pressed harder, blade flashing in the sunlight.

Elaine sighed but didn’t stop them, and Luna watched in silence, her expression unreadable.

For a moment, the world felt normal again—two siblings clashing in the yard, one of them hiding blood on their hands under the guise of training.

Viola’s eyes flashed with excitement as she shifted her stance. Ludger saw it before she even moved—her aura tightening low, pooling around her thighs like heat shimmer.

She launched forward, faster than before. Not the reckless dash of an overcharged body, but a deliberate burst. Her foot hit the stone hard, the ground cracking slightly under her momentum.

Ludger braced, armguard raised. She closed the distance in a blink, her blade already arcing down.

Then, just as the strike came, her aura shifted. The energy drained from her legs and surged into her arms. Her shoulders flared with light, her grip tightening, and the wooden sword came down like an axe.

Ludger caught it on his guard—barely. The shock rattled through his bones, forcing him to grit his teeth.

He shoved her back, blinking.

She switched Overdrive between limbs? Instinctively?

Viola grinned, breath quick. “What’s the matter? Getting rusty?”

She rushed again, aura dancing in fits and bursts. One moment her legs carried her in lunges too fast for her size, the next her arms exploded with strength in short, brutal swings. The control wasn’t polished—her transitions were rough, her timing uneven—but the raw instinct behind it was undeniable.

Ludger weaved aside, testing her with jabs, only to feel his wrist almost caught when her arm flickered with that same sudden reinforcement. It wasn’t skill in the refined sense, but the kind of dangerous intuition that made prodigies terrifying.

Her blade slammed against his guard again, sparks of mana scattering as wood groaned against enchanted steel. Ludger slid back, smirking despite himself.

No, not a genius. Just too damn reckless to realize you shouldn’t be able to pull that off.

But reckless or not—she was improving fast. Too fast.

Viola’s grin only grew wider the longer they clashed. Each strike came harder, sharper, her aura flaring wild with every transition.

She lunged again, Overdrive flooding her legs, the ground cracking under her dash. Ludger slipped to the side, but her blade swung around mid-motion, aura snapping to her arms. The wooden sword clipped across his ribs before he could fully guard.

He hissed, sliding back. The sting was deeper this time—not the usual surface welt she left, but a strike that bit into muscle. His eyes narrowed.

She’s hitting harder than before.

But Viola didn’t notice—or didn’t care. Her swings grew heavier, her bursts of Overdrive shorter, more frantic. She was chewing through mana like a starving wolf. Sweat poured down her face, her breathing sharp and uneven, yet she pressed forward, laughing between gritted teeth.

“Come on, Ludger! Stop running and fight me for real!”

He blocked again, the clash rattling through his arms. Blood pricked his knuckles where his guard had slipped. Each time she struck, the sting lingered longer. His smirk thinned, but the thought stayed steady:

She really is improving.

Then, mid-charge, her foot caught the stone wrong. The aura in her legs sputtered, her timing broke, and her swing came down sluggish.

Ludger sidestepped, letting her stumble past. She caught herself, panting hard, sweat dripping from her chin onto the courtyard floor. Her shoulders rose and fell, aura flickering in fits.

He straightened, brushing at the faint blood where her strike had split the skin. “You burned yourself out.”

Viola stood doubled over, clutching her knees, grinning despite her exhaustion. “Heh… still almost had you.”

Ludger snorted. “Almost isn’t good enough. But… yeah. You’re getting there.”

Her eyes lit up at that, pride swelling through the exhaustion. She didn’t even notice Elaine watching from the porch, embroidery paused, concern flickering in her gaze.

Ludger noticed, though. And he also noticed his arm still ached from her last strike. Proof enough—Viola was climbing fast.

When Viola finally collapsed onto the grass, chest heaving, Ludger left her to Elaine’s fussing and Luna’s quiet care. He still had energy to burn, and his body buzzed with the itch to keep moving.

He crossed to the far end of the yard, rolled his shoulders, and sank his focus into his core. Energy gathering sharp in his legs.

The world snapped into a blur. He shot across the courtyard, boots whispering against the grass. Again. Again. Short bursts, long sprints, sharp pivots. His lungs burned, muscles screamed, but he refused to stop.

Each surge smoothed out the motion, each burst longer, cleaner. Sweat clung to him, his vision hazy—then the familiar pulse of the system cut through.

[Skill Level Up]

Dash — Level 11

Ludger slowed to a stop, panting, and grinned despite the ache in his calves. He wasn’t done yet.

Another window pulsed into view:

Job Courier gained 110 experience points [Job Courier — Level 5]

Dex +1, End +3

New Skill Unlocked:

Quickstride

Quickstride (Passive)

Increases baseline movement speed when traveling or carrying loads by one percent per level. Fatigue buildup reduced by one point per level.

Ludger exhaled, brushing sweat from his brow.

Quickstride, huh? Not flashy, but perfect with Dash and Silent Steps. Run faster, longer, and quieter. Not bad for a “delivery boy.”

He flexed his legs, smirk tugging at his lips. “Every step just makes me harder to catch.”

Ludger leaned back against the courtyard wall, sweat dripping down his jaw. The notifications still lingered faintly in his vision, but his mind was already shifting elsewhere.

It’s about time I try the dungeon again.

The thought pulsed sharp and insistent. His skills had grown, his stamina stretched, his stealth sharpened. Every instinct told him he was wasting time staying penned up in the house. The labyrinth’s depths were waiting—mana, coin, growth.

But he glanced back toward the house. A glow of lamplight leaked from the windows, the muffled sound of Viola’s voice carrying through the halls. Elaine was inside too, never far from him.

Leaving now means hours gone,

he thought.

And if she notices, she’ll tear the city apart to find me.

Before, he’d never dared slip away. Elaine’s worry was suffocating, and the house felt too empty—one wrong absence, and she’d know. But now? With Viola crashing around, and Luna at her side, the weight on Elaine’s shoulders was spread thinner. She wouldn’t be so quick to panic.

Still… Ludger clenched his fists, frowning.

It’s a gamble. If something happens while I’m gone, I’ll have more than assassins to worry about.

He exhaled slowly, forcing his impatience back down.

Better to wait. When Father returns, the house will be noisy, distracted. Elaine will focus on him, Viola will cling to him, and I’ll have a window.

The plan settled in his chest like iron. Not now. Not yet. But soon.

He pushed off the wall, the faint smirk returning to his lips. “When you’re back, old man,” he muttered under his breath, “I’ll finally get some breathing room.”

Over the next few days, Ludger shifted his focus. If the dungeon was waiting, then he’d sharpen his edge here first.

And there was no better test dummy than Viola.

The next time they squared off in the courtyard, Viola came at him with her usual grin, blade flashing. Ludger met her head-on, letting Quickstride hum under his skin. His movements sharpened, his balance tighter, his steps quicker—like the ground itself pushed him forward.

But not too far. He knew her tricks. If he bolted across the yard, she’d just shout that he was “running away.” So instead, he used Quickstride in short bursts. A half-step here, a slip to the side there—always just enough to let her blade cut through empty air.

“Quit dodging and fight!” Viola barked, her aura flaring at her legs. She lunged, overcharged, aiming to close the distance.

Ludger let her think she had him, then slid in at an angle. His guard hooked her sword off-line, his foot swept hers, and she stumbled.

He tapped her on the shoulder with his gauntlet. “Disarmed.”

Viola scowled, cheeks red. “That doesn’t count!”

“Counts to me,” Ludger said flatly, smirking. “On the battlefield, the opponents will try to do while also taking your hands with their attacks. Get used to it.”

She charged again. This time he cut his steps even shorter, using Quickstride to dart inside her reach before she adjusted. One sharp counter, and her grip faltered. The wooden blade clattered to the ground, and Ludger flicked his wrist as if brushing dust from his gauntlet.

“Again,” he said.

They reset, over and over. Each time, Viola threw herself in with reckless flares of Overdrive. Each time, Ludger answered with sharp little bursts of movement, redirecting her swings and knocking her off-balance. To anyone else, it looked like luck, like he was reading her too easily. But he knew it was Quickstride smoothing every step, turning half-steps into decisive edges.

By the time Viola fell on her back for the third time, she sat up with her hair stuck to her sweaty face, glaring daggers at him.

“You’re… cheating.”

Ludger smirked, offering no denial. “Or maybe you’re just too slow.”

Ludger smirked, but as he paced in a slow circle, a thought hit him hard enough to make him pause mid-step.

Could I teach her?

He’d been using Dash like second nature, gliding in and out with little bursts that made him untouchable. To Viola, it must have looked like pure instinct or raw talent. But when he thought back on the skill notifications—Dash, Silent Steps, Quickstride—something tugged at him.

It wasn’t just the system

pushing

him to improve. The moment he unlocked a skill, he understood it. The muscle memory, the fine details, the knowledge of how to move and breathe—it was all there, etched into his head like training scars. Every level didn’t just make him faster or stronger, it filled his brain with the why and how.

That meant… it wasn’t locked to him alone. He could

share

it.

Viola might not have the system feeding her neat little shortcuts, but she had talent, stubborn will, and Overdrive that let her body take punishment most couldn’t handle. If he explained the principles behind his movements—short steps, weight transfer, rolling momentum instead of brute lunges—maybe she could learn it too.

For the first time, Ludger saw his skills not just as personal power-ups, but as books he could open and teach from.

He looked down at Viola, who was still catching her breath and glaring at him like he’d stolen her lunch.

“Hey,” he said.

She sat up, hair sticking out wildly. “What?”

Ludger tapped his shin guard, then pointed at her legs. “You’re fast when you use Overdrive. But you waste it. You flood all your power at once instead of focusing it. If you want to actually keep up with me, you need to learn how to move smart, not just fast.”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You’re giving me tips now? What’s the catch?”

Ludger shrugged, smirk tugging at his lips. “No catch. Just tired of winning too easily. I will make this more fun.”

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