Chapter 513

Lucius looked away.

His jaw worked once, as if he were chewing on the words before he allowed them out.

“I don’t know,” he said finally. “I didn’t… meet anyone.”

Ludger’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“I received letters,” Lucius continued, voice tighter now. “And books. They… explained things. Gave me knowledge. Tactics. The methods I would need to cross the runic golems labyrinth.”

He swallowed, still refusing to look directly at Ludger.

“They arrived over time,” he added. “Quietly. No signatures. No clear origin.”

Ludger let out a slow sigh. Not dramatic. Just… disappointed. That sound made Lucius’ head snap back toward him, irritation flashing across his face.

“Don’t,” Lucius said sharply. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Ludger’s expression didn’t change.

“It looks like you were fine with being manipulated,” he said.

Lucius’ eyes widened, offended. “I wasn’t—”

“You weren’t lied to,” Ludger cut in calmly. “Not directly.”

He stepped closer, voice still even.

“You were convinced,” Ludger said. “Fed half-truths. Given just enough real information to make the rest of the story feel inevitable.”

Lucius’ mouth tightened.

“You wanted an answer,” Ludger continued. “You wanted a way to make the world stop being unfair. So you accepted the pieces that fit your grief, and you ignored everything that would’ve forced you to slow down and question it.”

He gestured around the dead city.

“And in the process,” Ludger added quietly, “you gave up your position without anyone having to touch you.”

Lucius didn’t respond. But the anger in his eyes shifted into something uglier than anger. Because part of him understood exactly why Ludger was right. Ludger exhaled once, then turned away from Lucius as if the conversation had reached its useful limit.

He took a few steps back, giving Viola space, and glanced over his shoulder.

“He’s all yours, Viola,” he said.

Viola blinked. “What?”

Ludger’s tone stayed dry, almost too casual for what was happening.

“How about breaking his nose again,” he added, “so he gets a strong memory of this moment.”

Lucius’ eyes widened. “Excuse—”

Ludger kept going like he hadn’t heard him.

“The last time you punched him, he stopped annoying you when you were kids,” Ludger said, as if recalling a mildly amusing fact rather than suggesting violence. “Maybe your punching skills can put some sense into that big head of his.”

Viola stared at Ludger, then at Lucius, then back at Ludger, half offended, half tempted.

Luna’s eyes flicked away, but Ludger could see the slightest tightening at the corner of her mouth. Lucius, still pinned inside the earth, looked like he couldn’t decide whether to be outraged or worried.

Ludger didn’t wait to see whether Viola would actually take his advice. He lifted a hand, palm down, and the ground answered.

Earth rose beneath his boots in a single smooth column, compacting into a pillar that pushed upward like a silent elevator. It carried him above the ruined streets and vine-wrapped walls, higher and higher until the city’s geometry became a broken grid beneath him. He kept rising, eyes scanning the outskirts, the treeline, the old avenues that disappeared into the forest.

Then the pillar reached the low cloud layer. Mist swallowed his silhouette. A moment later, he was gone, hidden somewhere above, watching. Luna didn’t comment.

The instant Ludger removed himself, she seemed to realize she didn’t belong in what was about to happen. Not because she was embarrassed, but because her presence would turn a private exchange into a performance.

She stepped back once. Twice.

And then she vanished into the ruins like she’d never existed, leaving no sound behind. She knew Lucius wasn’t in a stable state of mind—no one who chased myths through labyrinths was—but she also knew he wouldn’t do anything against Viola.

Not with that look in his eyes. Not with that guilt sitting behind his anger. And not because he

couldn’t

even if he wanted to. Viola could break him in half without raising her voice. So Luna gave them the space.

Silence settled between the three of them, Viola, Lucius, and the earth cocoon still holding him in place like a restrained confession.

Lucius stared at the cracked tile beneath his boots for a long time, jaw clenched, breathing slow and tired. The fire in his eyes dimmed in uneven pulses, like a candle burning out in a draft.

Then he let out a sigh. Not a dramatic one.

A tired one—the kind that came from finally noticing how far you’d run on fumes.

“…Viola,” Lucius said quietly.

She didn’t answer at first. Her fists were still half-clenched, knuckles pale, as if she was deciding whether to hit him or hug him or do something worse than both: forgive him.

Lucius swallowed.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

The words sounded like they hurt to say.

“I’m sorry for making you think you had to come here,” he continued, voice rough. “For making you chase me across the coast and through a labyrinth like it was… like it was reasonable.”

He lifted his eyes to her, then looked away again almost immediately.

“And for making everyone waste their time,” he added. “Your people. Your guild. Ludger.”

His shoulders sagged inside the earth restraint, exhaustion finally winning over whatever stubborn pride had kept him upright.

“I didn’t… I didn’t want you to see me like this,” Lucius muttered. “I didn’t want anyone to.”

Viola stood there, breathing slowly, watching him like she was trying to decide which version of him was real, the noble he used to be, the desperate man he’d become, or the tired wreck apologizing in the ruins of a city that shouldn’t exist.

Above them, hidden in the clouds, Ludger kept watch.

And in the empty streets, the forest waited, silent, patient, as if it had seen this exact moment play out a thousand times before.

Viola stared at Lucius for a moment longer, then finally exhaled and let some of the tension drain out of her shoulders.

“It wasn’t a waste of time,” she said.

Lucius blinked, caught off guard.

Viola’s mouth twitched, almost a smile. “It was… fun, actually. The first time any of us conquered a labyrinth.”

She lifted a hand quickly before he could react to the word

conquered

.

“... Okay. It was only possible because Ludger did most of the heavy lifting,” she admitted, voice dry. “But still. We got there.”

Lucius’ expression shifted from guilt to disbelief.

“You… conquered it?” he repeated, as if the sentence didn’t fit inside his head. “You reached the final chamber?”

Viola nodded. “Yeah.”

Lucius’ eyes widened slightly. “I met the guardian,” he said, voice low. “I avoided it. I didn’t think anyone could fight that thing.”

He swallowed, then added, almost incredulous, “Much less three young warriors.”

Viola’s grin sharpened.

“Luna and I soloed it,” she said, as if stating a casual fact.

Lucius stared at her, clearly unsure whether to believe that or not.

“…With Ludger’s support,” Viola added, because it was true and she wasn’t in the mood to lie. “He held half a lake over the chamber and blasted the golem when it tried to turn us into paste.”

Lucius’ gaze flicked toward the sky, as if expecting Ludger to still be hovering there in plain sight.

“And his runes,” Viola continued, eyes back on Lucius. “That’s the part you’re not imagining. He used runes to push us into a controlled rage state, like Northerners. Rage Flow.”

Lucius’ brow furrowed.

“That let us fight like berserkers,” Viola said, tapping her chest lightly as if she could still feel the heat. “But we still kept control. And we could stack it with Overdrive.”

She shrugged. “So yeah. We killed it.”

Lucius’ mouth opened, then closed again. He looked… genuinely stunned now, like the world had quietly shifted under his feet and he hadn’t noticed until this moment.

For the first time since they’d found him, the expression in his eyes wasn’t only guilt or obsession. It was awe.

And maybe, just maybe, a hint that he was finally starting to understand how far Ludger had surpassed what any of them thought was possible.

Lucius lifted his head and looked toward the pillar of earth still rising into the clouds like a ridiculous monument.

For a long moment he just stared, eyes tracking the vanishing point where Ludger had disappeared. Then he let out a quiet breath—half disbelief, half reluctant respect.

“…Your little brother is truly something else,” Lucius said. “If he can do things like this… then yes.” His eyes flicked back to Viola. “His words become a lot more persuasive.”

Viola snorted.

“He acts like he knows everything,” she said, folding her arms. “Like the world is a list he can optimize.”

Then her expression softened a fraction, just enough to betray the truth underneath the complaint.

“Even though he’s always trying to learn something new,” she added.

A smirk crept onto her face as she looked up at the tower again.

“You know,” she said thoughtfully, as if the idea had just come to her, “we could kick it.”

Lucius blinked. “Kick it.”

“Yeah,” Viola said, smirk widening. “Make him fall. Just to annoy him. He probably wouldn’t break even a finger from that height.”

Lucius frowned, the corners of his mouth tightening. “I’m… not sure I want to make an enemy out of Ludger by doing that.”

Viola waved a hand dismissively. “It wouldn’t be making an enemy. It would be making a point.”

Lucius stared at her.

Viola leaned in slightly, eyes bright with mischief. “We can pretend we tripped. Accidents happen, right?”

Lucius looked like he wanted to argue, then seemed to remember the last six hours and decided arguing with Viola about “reasonable behavior” was a losing battle.

Viola slowly moved toward the base of the earth pillar, stretching her leg like she was about to test the stability of a wall.

Lucius shifted uncomfortably beside her, watching her with the expression of a man who knew exactly how this would end. Then it ended.

A splash of water dropped from the top of the tower like a casual warning from the sky.

It wasn’t a flood. It wasn’t a torrent.

Just a perfectly timed sheet of cold water, enough to soak both of them from head to toe in a single humiliating slap.

Viola froze mid-step, dripping.

Lucius went still too, blinking water out of his eyes, hair plastered to his forehead.

For a second, neither of them moved.

Then, faintly, from somewhere up in the clouds, a voice drifted down, calm, flat, and annoyingly satisfied.

“I know what you are doing.”

Viola wiped water from her face, mouth twitching as she tried, and failed, to look innocent.

Lucius exhaled slowly, closing his eyes like a man accepting the inevitable.

“…He really does know everything,” he muttered.

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