Inside the dim hall, Gaius set his jug on the counter with a hollow clunk. He didn’t sit. Instead he turned and planted himself squarely in front of Ludger, arms crossed over his chest.

“You’ve been playing around with dust long enough,” he said, voice rough but steady. “Show me what you can actually do. Earth magic. Not tricks.”

Ludger’s eyes narrowed slightly. He’d been careful not to show too much, practicing the basics over and over while pretending to fumble. But Gaius had finally called his bluff.

“Fine,” he said quietly.

He stepped out the open doorway onto the patch of cracked stone in front of the guild. The late afternoon light caught on the floating grit still clinging to his boots. He inhaled slowly, letting his [Spiritual Core] thrum, mana flowing outward in a steady pulse.

At first nothing moved. Then the dust and loose sand scattered around the yard began to shiver, rising as if caught in an invisible breeze. Ludger extended his hands and spread his mana wider, the glow faint but steady.

Grains of sand streamed together in front of him like iron filings drawn to a magnet. Pebbles lifted, swirling, joining the mass. Slowly, deliberately, the gathered particles coalesced into a sphere the size of a melon, then a pumpkin, spinning slowly in the air. More sand rolled in from the cracks of the courtyard until the sphere swelled larger still, a rough ball of earth and grit hanging weightless between his palms.

He kept his breathing even, holding the mental picture as Gaius had described—equal amounts, balanced forces, his will anchored in the center.

The sphere kept growing, faint trails of dust spiraling into it from the edges of the yard. Gaius watched in silence, his expression finally losing some of its lazy disinterest.

The sand sphere hung in the air, humming softly as particles streamed into it from the cracks of the courtyard. Ludger held it steady, his expression calm but focused, the faint glow of mana outlining his hands.

For a long moment, Gaius just stared at it. The lazy half-smirk he usually wore was gone. Finally, he let out a long, heavy sigh and rubbed a hand over his stubble.

“Alright,” he muttered. “That’s enough.”

Ludger slowly let the image go. The sand lost cohesion, crumbling back to the ground in a muted hiss. He straightened, dusting his palms off, watching Gaius’s face carefully.

The ex-guildmaster eyed the boy for another heartbeat, then exhaled through his nose. “You’re stubborn,” he said. “And you’re already further along than half the idiots who try to touch earth magic.” He shook his head, almost like he was scolding himself.

“I can teach you the basics of my craft,” he went on, voice rough but steady. “All of you. You’ve made it to the second floor already, which means the next mistake you make down there could be your last. I’m not keen on having three kids’ deaths on my conscience.”

Ludger only inclined his head slightly, hiding the satisfaction flickering behind his calm expression. “Basics are fine,” he said. “That’s all we’re asking.”

Gaius grunted, picking up his jug again but not drinking from it. “Good. Then be ready tomorrow morning. It won’t be easy.”

The air between them felt different now—not friendly, exactly, but no longer indifferent.

Luna and Viola stepped inside after awhile, both looking refreshed but a little flushed from the hot baths. Ludger was sitting at the old counter, sorting coins into neat stacks. He glanced up as they entered. “You two look alive,” he said dryly.

Viola grinned. “Hot baths, Ludger. You should try it. My shoulders feel like new.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” He finished stacking the coins and leaned back. “While you were soaking, Gaius finally cracked. He’s agreed to teach us the basics of his magic starting tomorrow morning.”

Viola’s grin widened, eyes sparkling. “Seriously? That’s amazing!”

Luna’s gaze flicked to Ludger, faint approval in her eyes.

But then the excitement on Viola’s face dimmed as the realization set in. “Wait… if we’re learning magic from him…” She frowned, chewing her lip. “…that means we can’t keep going to the labyrinth at the same time, can we?”

Ludger spread his hands. “Not unless you want to collapse halfway through a lesson and get flattened by the first thing you see. Magic training’s going to take your mana and your focus. Splitting that with the labyrinth would be asking for trouble.”

Viola slumped against the counter, damp hair sticking to her cheek. “So no exploring while we train.”

“Not for a while,” Ludger said. “We learn first. Then we go deeper.”

Viola groaned but nodded, her excitement settling into determination. Luna set the bags down and quietly began arranging their gear, already adjusting to the new plan.

The guild hall felt a little less dusty, a little more like a real base, as the three of them looked at each other and began to picture what came next.

Later that evening, the guild hall was quiet except for the muted whump of Viola practicing short bursts with her sword at the far end. The torchlight cast long shadows across the cracked floor.

Ludger sat on the edge of a table near the doorway, arms folded, watching Luna as she cleaned and rearranged their supplies with her usual neat efficiency. When she was close enough, he spoke in a low voice.

“Did you notice anyone tailing us today?”

Luna paused, looking up at him with her calm, dark eyes. She gave a slight shake of her head. “No. Nothing unusual.”

Ludger’s mouth twitched, not quite a frown. “While you two were at the baths, I had someone following me through the market.”

Luna straightened a little, her expression sharpening. “Following you?”

“Yeah. Matching my steps, closing in. I was about to pull them into an alley and see what they wanted…” He tilted his head toward the window, where the last of the sun was slipping behind the rooftops. “Then the street went quiet and everyone melted away. And guess who I saw standing at the end of the lane?”

Luna blinked once. “Gaius.”

Ludger gave a small nod. “Looks like that stretch of the city’s considered his territory. Even the low-lives didn’t want to take a chance with him watching.”

Luna’s eyes flicked briefly to where Viola was still swinging her sword, then back to Ludger. “So we’re already drawing attention.”

“Yeah.” Ludger’s tone stayed calm, but his fingers drummed once on his armguard. “Cores, rumors, Iron Vein… people are curious now.”

He let out a slow breath and glanced back at Viola, still practicing, oblivious. “We’ll have to stay sharper than ever.”

Luna gave a small nod. “Understood.”

Viola finished a set of swings and turned, wiping sweat from her forehead with the back of her arm. She caught the low murmur between Ludger and Luna and frowned. “What’s with the secret faces?” she asked, planting her hands on her hips. “You’re whispering like old people at a market.”

Luna glanced at Ludger, but he just leaned back on the table, expression mild. “Nothing for you to worry about,” he said lightly. “You just focus on not tripping over your own sword again.”

Viola narrowed her eyes. “That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting,” Ludger said with a faint smirk. “Let’s just say the adults are handling the boring parts so you can keep pretending this is all fun and games.”

Viola huffed. “I’m not a baby, Ludger. I can handle boring stuff and you are younger than me!”

“Sure,” he drawled. “You’re great at boring stuff. Like staying still, listening, not running at monsters twice your size…”

Her cheeks flushed, but a reluctant laugh slipped out anyway. “Jerk.”

Ludger’s smirk softened a fraction. “Relax. You don’t need to worry about anything. Just keep your head clear and your sword up. Leave the other headaches to me and Luna.”

Viola rolled her eyes but sheathed her sword, muttering something under her breath that might have been thanks. Luna said nothing, but the faintest trace of amusement flickered in her eyes as she went back to her tasks.

The tension bled out of the room, replaced by the familiar rhythm of their little team preparing for whatever came next.

When the hall finally went quiet, Luna retreating to her corner and Viola slumped against her pack half-asleep, Ludger stayed at the counter with a scrap of paper and a stub of charcoal. He wasn’t drawing a map this time—just letting lines wander as his thoughts turned.

They were no longer invisible. Every haul of cores, every rumor of “Iron Vein’s brats” creeping back into the labyrinth was bait for eyes they didn’t want. Even Gaius had noticed.

Ludger tapped the charcoal against the wood. The best weapon right now isn’t secrecy, he thought. It’s fear.

If the scum on the streets believed they were stronger than they really were—if they thought the kids from Iron Vein were dangerous enough to crush an ambush—then even the most reckless hoodlums would back off. A few well-placed rumors, some “accidental” displays, and the problem might solve itself.

He scowled faintly. But that’s not my style. Low profile keeps me alive. Low profile lets me move. He rubbed his temple with a thumb. Maybe it’s already too late to worry about that. The story’s writing itself whether I like it or not.

Across the hall, Viola murmured something in her sleep, sword still propped beside her bedroll. Luna adjusted her cloak around her shoulders and closed her eyes, breathing steady.

Ludger stared at the dark window for a long moment, the city lights flickering beyond, and exhaled slowly. “Fear as a shield,” he murmured under his breath. “Guess I’ll have to start playing a louder game.”

He set down the charcoal, the faint scratching sound replaced by the low creak of the old building settling around them.

Tomorrow would bring Gaius’s lessons. Tonight, he let the idea of their next move take shape like dust in his hands.

The courtyard behind the Iron Vein guild still smelled faintly of iron dust and stale ale when dawn cracked over Meira. Pale light spilled across the broken flagstones, glinting off scattered training staves and half-collapsed target dummies. Gaius was already there, broad shoulders hunched, a battered cloak thrown over his old guildmaster’s tunic. He looked like a man who’d rather be asleep or drinking, but instead had been dragged out to babysit three brats.

“Stand there,” he grumbled, jabbing a thumb at the patch of bare earth he’d cleared with a lazy stomp. His voice was gravel and old smoke. “Feet apart. Don’t talk unless you’re asking a question worth my time.”

Viola practically bounced into place, hair tied up, knuckles flexing like she expected a sparring match instead of a lesson. “Yes, sir!” she blurted before she could stop herself.

Gaius shot her a look that could have cracked stone. “Less volume. You’re not trying to scare the dirt into listening.”

Luna slid in behind them like a shadow, silent as always, her eyes scanning the perimeter first, then settling on Gaius’s hands. She didn’t crouch or stretch, just…observed. Calm, disciplined, waiting for angles to reveal themselves.

Ludger stepped onto the dirt patch last. He looked half asleep, but his spiritual core thrummed under his ribs, steady as a drum. He’d been practicing with sand the night before. He already knew what Gaius was going to say—mostly—but hearing it from someone who had spent decades shaping earth still mattered.

Gaius planted his boots and stabbed a thick finger toward the ground. “You,” he said to Ludger. “What you’ve been doing with sand and pebbles? That’s the toddler version. You match your mana to what’s in front of you—good instinct, but limited. Real earth magic starts here.” He rapped the heel of his boot against the flagstone. A low hum rolled out, like the courtyard itself was answering.

“Affinity,” Gaius continued. “Not just dumping your mana into the ground. You learn to breathe with it. You pull the same pulse the stone has, the weight the soil carries. At first you’ll feel like you’re pushing uphill, nothing responds. Later, with experience…” He curled his fingers; a ridge of earth rose under his boot like a snake, solid and precise. “…the ground moves before you even finish the thought.”

Viola’s eyes went wide. “So we can actually make the earth move like that?”

“If you don’t blow your mana reserves first,” Gaius said flatly. “And if you stop thinking about it like punching. The ground doesn’t care how hard you grit your teeth.”

Luna tilted her head, a tiny shift. “You’re matching frequencies,” she murmured more to herself than anyone. “Not forcing—resonating.”

Gaius gave her a brief, surprised glance but didn’t comment. He just jabbed his finger again. “First drill. Kneel. Hands on the dirt. Don’t shove mana into it. Feel it. Let it drag your mana down until it’s heavier than you. Only then start to pull.”

Ludger crouched, palms sinking into cool soil. The sensation was different from sand—denser, thicker, like holding a sleeping animal instead of dry grain. His core adjusted, a slow shift of rhythm. Viola dropped beside him, jaw tight with concentration. Luna stayed standing, arms folded, watching them both like a guard dog and a student at once.

The courtyard went quiet except for birds and the scrape of stone. Gaius’s voice cut through again, low and rough but steady: “Welcome to real magic. Stop trying to impress me and start listening to the earth.”

Ludger pressed his palms into the dirt the way Gaius had ordered. The soil was cool, damp from night dew, the weight of it sinking into his skin. What he wanted was different—he wanted to learn how to create earth by transforming his own mana, to manifest stone the way he manifested sand. That was the plan he’d built in his head last night, the shortcut he thought he’d take.

But maybe this was the first step of Gaius’s style. Maybe you had to crawl before you could make rock out of nothing. He wasn’t in a hurry to clash with the old man on day one. So he kept his mouth shut and did as told.

Even so, he felt ridiculous. Kneeling in the courtyard at dawn, eyes closed, hands spread like some temple acolyte worshipping a goddess of soil. Great. Eight years old and already praying to Mother Earth. Next I’ll be humming chants. The sarcasm helped steady his breathing. His spiritual core pulsed, waiting for him to sync.

Beside him Viola was dead serious, lips pressed tight, brow furrowed like she was about to crack the ground by willpower alone. Luna remained standing, arms folded, her expression unreadable but her eyes flicking between them and Gaius’s boots as if memorizing every shift.

“Stop thinking you’re casting a spell,” Gaius barked from above. “You’re not. You’re listening. The earth doesn’t answer orders; it answers recognition.”

Ludger exhaled slowly, sinking his focus lower. The soil’s heaviness tugged at his mana. It wasn’t flashy, but it was real, slow, grounding. Like gears clicking into place at the bottom of a machine.

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