Chapter 233

Lucius hadn’t really planned to

teach

Ludger.

Not seriously, anyway.

Between the packed schedules, the fleet preparations, and the never-ending stream of logistics meetings, there wasn’t time for proper training. So when Ludger showed up the next morning holding a dull practice blade and wearing that same expectant look, Lucius sighed, rolled his eyes, and gave him the quick version.

“Focus your mana around the weapon,” he explained, gesturing with his saber. “Think of it as wrapping the metal in a thin film of pressure. Then pull the mana

outward

—don’t force it through. Fire isn’t like earth; it expands on its own. You just guide it.”

He demonstrated once, the edge of his saber blooming in a clean tongue of flame.

“See? Pressure, ignition, containment. Nothing more to it.”

“Got it,” Ludger said.

Lucius sheathed the saber and waved a hand. “Good. Don’t overdo it. We leave in a few hours anyway.”

He turned back toward the harbor—only to stop dead when the sound of heat crackling behind him made him glance back.

Ludger wasn’t holding a sword.

He was holding

nothing.

Instead, flames had erupted across his

f

orearm guards, racing in controlled lines along the metal like veins of molten light. The fire licked the surface without burning, wrapping his hands in a living mantle of heat. The air shimmered, warping faintly around him.

Lucius blinked. “…You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Ludger flexed his hands, the flame following like a second skin. “Guess it works on armor too.”

“That shouldn’t even be possible,” Lucius muttered, stepping closer. “You didn’t attune the weapon, you didn’t channel through a focus—how are you stabilizing the flow?”

Ludger shrugged, utterly calm. “Didn’t think about it. I just treated the guards like runic anchors.”

Before Lucius could reply, a faint blue notification shimmered into Ludger’s vision—clear, precise, and sharp as the ring of metal on stone.

[New Class Unlocked: Magic Warrior Lv. 1]

Bonus per Level:

+6 STR, +6 INT, +4 DEX.

Skill Acquired: [Blazing Enchantment Lv. 1]

Allows user to imbue weapons or armor with temporary fire-elemental energy.

Effect scales with Strength and Intelligence.

Cost: 120 Mana per minute of sustained enchantment.

The light flickered once, then faded, leaving only the steady burn along his arms.

Ludger grinned. “Well… that’s new.”

Lucius could only stare, equal parts disbelief and reluctant admiration. “You really

do

learn by making no sense.”

“Kind of,” Ludger said simply, lowering his hands as the flames withdrew. A thin wisp of smoke curled from the edges of his gauntlets, but the metal wasn’t even scorched.

Lucius exhaled, shaking his head with a quiet laugh. “You’re something else.”

“Probably,” Ludger admitted, smirking. “But now I can punch things with fire.”

From nearby, Gaius—who’d been pretending not to eavesdrop—snorted. “Gods help us all.”

Lucius sheathed his saber again, still frowning as he turned toward the waiting ships. “You’ll fit right in with the pyromancers on the fleet. Just… don’t set any sails on fire.”

Ludger looked down at his still-warm gauntlets and chuckled. “No promises.”

The fleet’s horns began to sound across the docks, the warships shimmering with mana light as the crews prepared to cast off.  And as the others boarded, Ludger flexed his fingers once more—watching a thin flicker of flame crawl between his knuckles,  a small, quiet reminder that even in the middle of war, he never stopped learning new ways to burn brighter.

Ludger stood alone near the edge of the docks, the morning wind carrying the tang of salt and iron across the water. The fleet was nearly ready, but he wasn’t on board yet—he was still fine-tuning the new trick.

Flames traced lazy arcs across his forearm guards as he practiced

Blazing Enchantment

in slow, deliberate pulses. Each movement had to be measured—too little mana, and the fire sputtered out; too much, and it flared wild. He wanted control, not power.

He’d just stabilized the flow on both arms when a familiar voice drifted from behind him.

“So,” Elaine said dryly, “my son’s learned

another

way to set himself on fire.”

Ludger froze mid-gesture. “...Morning, Mother.”

Elaine walked up beside him, her cloak brushing the ground, the sea wind tugging at her hair. She crossed her arms, eyeing the burning gauntlets with the same look she used when judging whether a wall was straight enough to stand.

“Why is it,” she asked, “that everything you learn lately can kill you?”

Ludger’s grin flickered, sheepish but unrepentant. “Keeps life interesting.”

She sighed, the kind of long, tired sigh that carried years of worry in it. “If I hadn’t been so possessive when you were younger,” she murmured, “maybe you would’ve grown into a healer instead of a walking siege engine.”

He chuckled quietly, lowering the flames with a thought. “Pretty sure that ship sailed when I picked up a shovel instead of a staff.”

“Too late to complain about it now,” she said softly. Then her tone shifted, warm under the exasperation. “Come here.”

Ludger blinked. “What for?”

“Just come here.”

He leaned forward slightly, and Elaine reached up to rest a hand on his head. “Lower,” she said, half-smiling.

He bent down, and she pressed a light kiss to his forehead, the gesture simple but grounding. “Be cautious,” she said. “No matter what tricks you’ve learned, remember you’re not invincible.”

Ludger nodded. “I know. Just almost invincible.”

She lingered a moment longer before squinting up at him. “When did you get taller than me, anyway?”

That earned a crooked grin from him. “Every time you scold me, I grow a centimeter.”

Elaine snorted, trying—and failing—to hide her laugh. “Then I should’ve kept my mouth shut years ago.”

“Probably,” Ludger said, amused. “But then I wouldn’t have turned out this charming.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled all the same. “You’re your father’s problem now.”

He watched her turn to leave, still wearing that faint, rare smile, the sea breeze catching her cloak.

The fire on his gauntlets flickered one last time before fading completely. And for a brief moment, standing there on the dock, Ludger felt like the warmth had stayed behind.

A familiar calm presence caught his attention as Ludger watched his mother leave. Luna stood there, cloak fluttering in the sea breeze, her white hair glowing faintly under the morning light. She didn’t say anything—she rarely needed to.

Ludger met her eyes and gave a small nod.

She returned it in kind, her expression as serene as ever.

She wasn’t coming. They both knew that.

“Thanks,” Ludger said quietly. “Keep an eye on them.”

Her lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “Elaine and the twins will be fine. You, on the other hand…”

“I’ll try not to fall apart,” he said dryly.

“That’d be a first.”

He chuckled, then glanced toward the fleet where the banners of House Hakuen and the Lionsguard fluttered together. “You’re sure about staying?”

Luna tilted her head slightly. “You know how I fight. I don’t thrive in shadows. I protect, I don’t charge.” Her tone softened. “Your mother and the twins will be safe. Focus on what’s ahead.”

He nodded again, simple and sure. “Appreciate it.”

“Try to keep Viola from doing anything reckless,” Luna added, half-amused. “If that’s even possible.”

“Funny you should mention her.”

Because just then, Viola came striding down the dock, dressed for battle. Her light armor gleamed with fresh polish, and her sword—her favorite, with the dark steel edge and the lion engraving near the hilt—rested easily in her hand. Her cloak snapped in the wind behind her, as bold and red as the look in her eyes.

“You’re late,” Ludger said.

She smirked. “I was deciding which sword looked best for saving the world.”

“You picked that one because it looks good on you. Saving the world? You must be still dreaming.”

“Exactly.” She stopped beside him, glancing up toward the ships. “So, rumor has it you’ve been stealing people’s powers again.”

He blinked. “Rumor?”

“Lucius told me you

‘borrowed’

his fire trick,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Word is, you burned your own arms off.”

Ludger snorted. “Not quite that dramatic.”

“So it’s true?”

He shrugged. “Something like that.”

Viola grinned. “Figures. I can’t leave you alone for a week without you inventing a new way to explode.”

“Someone has to keep things interesting,” he said, tone flat but eyes faintly amused. “You just try not to trip and fall into the ocean this time.”

She made an offended noise. “That

never

happened

.

”

Luna’s quiet laugh followed him as he turned to go. “Good luck, Vice Guildmaster,” she said softly. “Don’t sink before you get there.”

“Not planning to,” he called back, walking toward the ship where Viola was already climbing aboard, blade glinting in the morning light.

The war drums began to beat across the harbor, low and steady.

The sea stretched out ahead—calm for now, waiting.

And as Ludger stepped onto the deck beside her, he glanced once over his shoulder toward Luna and the distant shore. She stood unmoving, watching him go, the wind tugging at her cloak like a silent promise. He didn’t wave. She didn’t need him to.

Ten warships waited in formation beyond the harbor, sails half-raised, mana conduits glowing faintly as the sea churned under their hulls. Crews stood ready at attention, every banner snapping high—the Lionsguard’s lion, House Hakuen’s silver falcon, and the Silver Talon Order’s silver.

Ludger stood near the prow beside Viola, flame still faintly pulsing within his forearm guards. He watched as Lucius, Varik, and Rathen gathered on the central platform, heads inclined toward one another. The three spoke in low tones, the kind that carried the weight of strategy and pride.

Then Lucius nodded once. Varik mirrored it. Rathen followed. A hush rippled across the fleet.

Lucius stepped forward to the edge of the platform, the morning light glinting off his saber’s polished guard. His voice carried across the waves—strong, confident, and clear.

“Men and women of the coast!” he began, his tone striking with the authority of a noble and the conviction of a soldier. “For years, the southern sea has been a border no one dared to cross. We’ve called it cursed—haunted—impossible. And yet, here we stand, at the edge of that fear.”

The wind caught his words and carried them across the decks. Even the restless gulls seemed to quiet.

“Out there,” he pointed toward the mist-shrouded horizon, “lies not just an archipelago filled with monsters, but a mystery that threatens every shore of the Empire. The sahuagin attacks were not random. Someone,

something

, is directing them. And if we allow it to grow, then the next assault won’t strike some remote fishing village, it will strike our ports, our families, our homes.”

Murmurs rose among the crews, the sound swelling like an oncoming tide.

Lucius lifted his saber, and the flame along its edge flickered to life, bright against the gray sea. “Today, we don’t sail for conquest. We sail for understanding, and for the safety of every soul who calls the Empire home. We will reclaim the archipelago, expose what commands those creatures, and bring stability back to the southern coast.”

His voice lowered slightly, but the force in it only deepened. “We are the wall that stands between chaos and civilization. Remember that when the waves turn red.”

Applause erupted, boots striking decks, voices calling out. Even the Ironhand mercenaries pounded their fists on shields in rhythm with the drums.

Ludger didn’t cheer. He simply watched.

His gaze drifted past Lucius—toward Varik, standing a few steps behind him. The Silver Talon commander’s face was composed as always, but when Lucius spoke about “the Empire’s safety,” Ludger caught it: a small, involuntary twitch of the eyebrow, gone in an instant.

Most wouldn’t have noticed. Ludger did. He studied the man quietly, the sea breeze brushing his scarf.

Was it doubt? Guilt?

Hard to tell.

So far, all of Ludger’s suspicions about Imperial involvement behind the sahuagin attacks had gone nowhere. The evidence didn’t fit. The timing didn’t match.

And yet, Varik’s composure never felt real. It was too deliberate. Too perfect.

If he’s acting,

Ludger thought,

he’s good at it.

Lucius’s speech ended with a final declaration, voice cutting through the noise. “Raise anchors! For the Empire, and for the coast!”

A thunder of cheers followed. The drums boomed again. Mana conduits blazed brighter as the ships began to move.

Ludger glanced one last time at Varik, who now stood still, hands clasped behind his back, eyes fixed on the sea ahead. Calm. Too calm.

Maybe I’m wrong,

Ludger thought.

But maybe I’m not.

Either way, the expedition had begun—and whatever waited on that island would prove who truly stood with them, and who had only come along for the reward.

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