Ludger fell in step beside him, boots crunching on loose gravel, a cluster of soldiers trailing behind like a moving shadow. He didn’t miss the way they were looking at him—measuring him, whispering to each other, trying to decide whether their captain’s orders meant Lord Torvares had gone senile or whether this boy was really as good as his orders.

He wants to see me in action, Ludger thought, eyes narrowing. To find out if his boss has lost his mind sending a kid to do a bunch of mages’ work.

They crossed a battered street and came out onto the north edge of town where the “wall” loomed. Ludger slowed, taking it in.

It wasn’t a wall so much as a series of desperate patches. Sections of old stonework stood at uneven heights, joined by piles of loose earth tamped down into shallow mounds. Wooden stakes jutted out here and there where someone had tried to brace the gaps. In some places, the repairs didn’t even reach shoulder height—a breach disguised as a fortification. Grass sprouted through cracks like weeds through a bad scar.

A few spots had been “reinforced” with whatever the locals could scavenge—chunks of broken statues, cart wheels, even old doorframes hammered into place. The whole thing looked more like a barricade thrown up overnight than a defense line meant to keep barbarians at bay.

Ludger adjusted his pack, jaw tightening. Half-assed repairs won’t hold when the next raid comes. He glanced at Darnell, who watched him sidelong without speaking, clearly waiting to see what the boy would do. Soldiers ringed them now, arms crossed, eyes full of doubt and curiosity.

Ludger rolled his shoulders once, the weights on his limbs clinking softly. Alright, he thought. Time to show them.

Ludger walked right up to the jagged edge of the wall, boots crunching on loose stone. He crouched, running a hand over a cracked section of masonry, then glanced back at Darnell.

“Before I start,” he said, voice calm but carrying over the wind, “do you have scouts watching the barbarians and the surrounding area?”

Darnell raised an eyebrow. “We’ve got a few patrols.”

Ludger shook his head. “That’s not what I’m asking. If I start here and the enemy comes charging in, all this work gets crushed before it even sets. I need to know if someone’s watching them constantly—movements, numbers, anything.”

The murmurs among the soldiers died down. Darnell studied the boy for a moment, then nodded once, expression turning serious. “We’ve got eyes on them,” he said. “Rotating scouts, hidden positions outside the perimeter. You’ll get a warning if anything stirs.”

Ludger gave a small nod and turned back to the wall. “Good,” he said. “Because I’m not building this twice.”

The soldiers exchanged looks again, but this time the whispers had a different tone—less skepticism, more curiosity.

The soldiers’ murmuring shifted as Ludger spoke. A few lowered their arms, their expressions changing from doubt to something more like respect. The kid wasn’t just throwing spells at rocks — he was thinking two, three steps ahead like a seasoned officer.

Ludger straightened, brushing the dust from his palms. “Alright,” he said, turning back to Captain Darnell. “How do you want this section of the wall to look? What’s the plan? I’m an earth mage, but my engineering skills are getting rusty.”

Darnell blinked at the bluntness, then gave a short, approving nod. “Good question. Come here.”

He led Ludger a few paces down the wall to a makeshift table with a rough sketch pinned under a dagger. It was no blueprint, just lines and measurements scrawled on cheap parchment, but it showed the whole northern perimeter.

“Here’s the layout,” Darnell said, tapping the parchment with a calloused finger. “The original wall was five meters thick at the base, eight meters high. We’re down to three meters in some places. First, we need the foundation reinforced — solid stone cores every twenty feet, linked under the soil. After that, a retaining layer to stop erosion, then the outer face shaped and sealed.”

He glanced up at Ludger. “We’ll clear rubble and haul materials while you shape. You tell me what you need, we’ll move it. But the order matters — if the base isn’t done right, the rest will crumble.”

Ludger leaned over the map, eyes narrowing as he absorbed every word. Foundations first, cores linked, retaining layer, outer face. Got it. He adjusted his armguards, already sketching the work in his head. “Alright,” he said quietly. “Let’s start from the ground up.”

Ludger set his pack down, rolled his shoulders once, and stepped up to the jagged edge of the wall. Closing his eyes for a heartbeat, he let his mana sink into the ground like a pulse. The soil trembled under his boots, responding to his will.

He opened his eyes and started moving his hands in short, precise motions—[Earth Manipulation] at full throttle. Sections of dirt and rock rose up in neat, square pillars where the captain had marked the foundation. With a flick of his wrist he compressed them, stone hardening with a sound like distant thunder. Another push and veins of denser rock fused the cores together under the soil, locking them in place.

Chunks of rubble shifted aside on their own, rolling clear of the work area as if swept by invisible hands. Each movement was efficient, layered—pull, compress, anchor, seal—faster than any of the hired mages had managed.

Around him, the soldiers stopped what they were doing. Shovels hung in midair. Helmets tilted. Eyes widened as the boy built foundations like he was stacking blocks instead of shaping tons of earth.

One whispered, “He’s… making it look easy.”

Another muttered, “That’s faster than our whole crew did in a week.”

Captain Darnell’s lips twitched into the faintest smile as he crossed his arms, watching the pillars form one after another. Ludger didn’t look up. He just kept working, mana flowing steadily, the ground rising and hardening at his command.

Ludger moved methodically along the base of the wall, mana threading out of him like fine wires. In one stretch he raised new cores from solid earth; in another he shaped the rubble already there, compressing it into dense blocks and fusing it with the fresh stone. Every movement was focused—no wasted materials, no stray mana.

It was good that Gaius had drilled him to build control from the ground up instead of just brute-forcing power. Without that training, this job would have taken three or four times longer, maybe more. Here he could mold the ground as if it were clay, stacking foundation and repair seamlessly as he went.

Still, efficiency didn’t make him limitless. After finishing about five meters of reinforced base and sealing the cracks around it, his vision dimmed at the edges and his breath came shallow. Mana burned low in his core.

He turned back toward the soldiers, wiping sweat from his brow. “Potions,” he said simply.

Captain Darnell’s head snapped up. “You heard him!” he barked, voice carrying across the work site. “Bring the potions—now!”

Several soldiers jolted into motion at once, scattering toward a nearby supply cart. Moments later corked bottles clinked together as they hurried back, eyes still wide at the speed and precision of the boy’s work.

Captain Darnell strode up as the soldiers handed Ludger the first potion. He uncorked it, drank deep, and felt the mana surge back into his limbs like cool water. The captain stopped beside him, arms crossed, a slow grin spreading across his face as he looked at the section of wall they’d just reinforced.

“Now that,” Darnell said, jerking his chin toward the new foundation, “looks like a wall. Compared to this, the other sections are a bad joke.”

Several soldiers nodded silently, still staring at the seamless stone cores rising out of the dirt.

Darnell tilted his head, studying the boy. “How in the Emperor’s name are you this skilled at your age? I’ve had full-grown mages take weeks to do what you just did in an hour.”

Ludger wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, setting the empty bottle down. “Thanks to my teacher,” he said simply. “Gaius Stonefist. He taught me earth magic the right way.”

Recognition flickered in Darnell’s eyes. “Stonefist…” he murmured. “Figures.” Then he gave a short, approving nod. “Guess Lord Torvares knew what he was doing, sending you here.”

Ludger only adjusted his armguards and turned back toward the next stretch of wall. “Let’s keep going,” he said.

Ludger went back to work without another word. He raised pillars, fused rubble, sealed cracks, and pushed his mana into the ground again and again until the stone hummed under his feet. The section of wall stretched longer, taller, denser with every hour.

But each time his mana dipped, he reached for another potion. And another. The liquid wasn’t even close to Aronia’s careful brews; it was harsh and bitter, leaving a metallic taste in his mouth. By the third bottle his stomach churned, and by the fifth it felt like his bladder might explode.

He gritted his teeth and kept going. Endure it, he told himself. Faster walls, faster tunnels, fewer days away from home.

His hands moved automatically now, gestures sharp and precise, sweat running down his back as the mana inside him surged and ebbed with each draught. The soldiers on the ground watched in a strange silence—some impressed, some uneasy—as the boy drank down the bitter stuff and kept shaping stone at a pace they’d never seen before.

“Saints,” one of the soldiers muttered under his breath. “It’s like watching a golem build itself.”

“Or watching a kid kill himself,” another whispered back.

Captain Darnell heard them both. He didn’t look away from Ludger, but his voice snapped like a whip. “You’ll have time for gossip when you’re dead. Keep the rubble clear.”

The men jumped, shovels clattering as they scrambled back to work. Dust swirled around their boots as the newest cores rolled aside on their own, guided by invisible wires of mana that threaded from Ludger’s outstretched fingers.

Darnell stepped closer, his grin gone now, eyes narrowing as he studied the boy’s pallor. “Kid,” he said low enough that only Ludger could hear, “at this rate you’ll end up face-down in the mud before sunset. These are garrison potions, not whatever alchemist swill you’re used to.”

Ludger’s lips twitched, the ghost of a smirk. “Then make sure the tunnel’s dug before I collapse. Faster I finish, faster I go home.”

The captain let out a short laugh that wasn’t entirely amused. “You’re either stubborn or suicidal. Either way, Torvares sent the right brat.”

Ludger ignored him and pressed both palms flat to the ground. Stone groaned like a waking beast. He drove his will down through the foundations and felt the entire section lock together, the vibrations spreading outward like a low heartbeat. Another five meters done.

He exhaled through his nose, straightened slowly. Sweat dripped from his hairline; his eyes were flat and calculating despite the exhaustion. “Next section,” he muttered.

Darnell raised an eyebrow. “You’re insane,” he said, but his tone carried a thread of respect now. Then, louder, for the soldiers: “Shift the debris! Make room for another five meters!”

Boots scrambled. Shovels scraped. The work site turned again into an organized rhythm—men clearing, rubble sliding, and at the center a boy driving the earth like a siege engine, one bitter potion at a time.

Two more hours ground by in a haze of stone dust and bitter potion aftertaste. The sun hung high and cruel, heat shimmering off the half-finished wall. Ludger kept moving anyway—hands dragging up cores of stone, sealing cracks, forcing mana through the latticework until the foundation hummed like a living thing.

His head throbbed like someone was driving nails into his skull. Every breath burned. His vision tunneled at the edges, but his hands still twitched through the pattern—pull, compress, anchor, seal—like an automaton refusing to shut down.

He reached for another bottle out of habit and then felt a heavy hand clamp down on his shoulder. Captain Darnell’s grip was iron.

“That’s enough,” the captain said, voice flat but brooking no argument. “You’re done for today.”

Ludger blinked at him, dazed, still half reaching toward the potion crate. “I can—”

“No.” Darnell’s fingers tightened, turning Ludger to face him. The captain’s scar twitched as he frowned. “Kid, look at yourself. Clean your nose.”

Confused, Ludger swiped at his upper lip with the back of his hand. It came away streaked with red. For a heartbeat he just stared at the smear—dark against the pale dust caked on his skin—then felt the warm trickle from his nostril.

His gut clenched. The potions had kept his mana afloat but not his body.

Darnell’s expression softened just a fraction. “That’s your body telling you to stop. Push harder and you’ll do more harm than good.”

Ludger let out a shaky breath and finally lowered the potion. The wall loomed beside them, flawless and silent, as if waiting. He wiped the blood off on a rag, feeling the tremor still running through his fingers. For the first time since he’d started, he didn’t reach back for the earth.

Darnell didn’t let go until Ludger’s arm sagged back to his side. “Let’s go to the tent. Now,” the captain ordered. “You can glare at me later.”

Ludger wanted to argue—wanted to grab another bottle and finish just one more stretch—but the tremor in his fingers wouldn’t stop. The warm trickle under his nose had already slowed to a crusted line of red. He clenched his jaw and let himself be steered away from the wall.

Each step back toward the tents felt heavier than the last. His mana was there, refilled enough by the potions to keep going, but his body lagged behind like an overloaded wagon. No matter how clean the flow of power, muscles still needed oxygen, nerves still fried under strain.

He wiped his face with a rag, eyes half-lidded. So even if I drown myself in potions, he thought, I still hit a wall. Mana isn’t the same as stamina. The realization annoyed him more than the nosebleed. A good system had bottlenecks; he’d found one of his.

They ducked into the mess tent’s shade. The sudden cool made his skin prickle. Darnell shoved a wooden cup of water into his hands. “Drink. Slow. This isn’t a battlefield, you’re not being chased. You’ll have plenty of time to play earth-mage again once you can stand without swaying.”

Ludger took a sip, the water tasting cleaner than any potion he’d had all day. His head still throbbed, but the noise of the camp faded into a dull hum. Outside, soldiers were still clearing rubble and staring at the seamless wall he’d raised; inside, the captain’s eyes stayed on him, sharp but not unkind.

“You’re good,” Darnell said after a moment, “but you’re not invincible. Learn that now before it gets you killed.”

Ludger snorted softly, leaning back on the bench. “Lesson learned.” He didn’t add the rest—and then exploited—but the thought stayed behind his eyes as he tipped the cup again.

The work could wait. For now, he’d map out a better rhythm, one that wouldn’t burn him out before the tunnel was even dug.

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