For half an hour, nothing happened aside from a few duels between Kharnek and some frost skellies. The air grew colder the deeper they went, the walls shining with veins of faint blue froststeel that pulsed like arteries.

Then the echo came — soft at first, then splitting into two distinct sets of steps.

Ludger’s eyes narrowed. “Two this time.”

Kharnek rolled his shoulders. “Good. I was getting bored.”

Out of the frozen corridor ahead, the first silhouette emerged — another frost knight, armored in thick ice, a faint blue aura leaking through its skeletal frame. But from behind it stepped another — leaner, with froststeel bones drawn taut like bowstrings. The cold around it warped as shards of ice lifted from the floor, reshaping into a sleek, curved bow. Its ribcage creaked open and reformed, each bone twisting slightly to anchor the conjured string. The weapon looked almost organic, alive.

“Frost archer,” Brynja muttered, stepping forward. Her voice dropped to a chant, the runes on her staff glowing with dim, grey-white light. “I’ll handle—”

Before she could finish, the ground shuddered.

Ludger slammed a palm to the floor, and the frost rippled outward like a heartbeat. The air buzzed with earthen mana beneath the layer of ice, a low growl that grew into something violent.

The frost archer drew its bow — but before it could fire, a spear of black stone burst through the floor beneath it. The jagged spike impaled the skeleton through the chest, lifting it clean off the ground. The creature’s froststeel weapon shattered mid-draw, its torso fracturing from the impact.

It hung there for half a second, twitching, before crumbling into shards that hit the floor with the soft sound of breaking glass.

[Earth Manipulation + 50XP.]

Ludger straightened, brushing a few snowflakes from his coat. “No need to risk you getting hit,” he said simply, eyes still on the dissolving remains.

Brynja lowered her staff slowly, studying him in silence. “Impatient imperial,” she muttered, but the faintest hint of approval flickered across her expression.

Meanwhile, Kharnek barked a laugh. “You really don’t leave scraps for anyone, do you?”

Ludger smirked. “You’re not faster with your fists than I am with spells.”

The chieftain’s grin widened. “Fair enough.”

He stepped past him just as the frost knight came within reach, its sword raised in a crystalline blur. Kharnek sidestepped the slash as usual, his hand closing around the creature’s arm like a bear trap. A single twist — the bone snapped with a sound like breaking ice.

Then, in one brutal motion, he drove his knee up into the skeleton’s chest and smashed a fist through its helm.

Two seconds. That was all it took.

The knight fell apart, shards of froststeel clattering across the smooth floor.

Kharnek brushed his hands off, the sound echoing through the empty corridor. “You take the fancy shots,” he said, voice rumbling with amusement. “I’ll stick to the quick ones.”

Ludger nodded, eyes scanning the deep shadows ahead. “Fine by me. Just remember — the deeper we go, the smarter they get.”

Kharnek grinned, stepping over the fallen froststeel shards. “Good. I’d hate for the warm-up to end already.”

And with that, the group moved on — the glow of Brynja’s runes flickering faintly against the ice as the cold corridor swallowed them whole once again.

As they advanced, Ludger crouched to retrieve the shard of froststeel the archer had left behind. He turned it over once, then slipped it into his pouch. But something gnawed at the edge of his thoughts.

His breathing had grown heavier than it should’ve after a single spell. His spiritual core felt sluggish, each pulse of energy dragging like he was wading through mud. He frowned, brow tightening.

That’s odd.

A single Earth Spear of that size shouldn’t have drained more than a fraction of his reserves, yet his core throbbed faintly, a dull ache settling behind his ribs. It wasn’t exhaustion—he’d felt that before. This was something else.

Almost like the labyrinth itself was fighting him.

He didn’t mention it. Kharnek was busy kicking apart the frost knight’s remains. Instead, Ludger straightened quietly and glanced back toward the spot where his spell had struck.

The massive spear of stone that had pierced the frost archer’s chest was already crumbling. As he watched, the pillar tilted slightly to the side, then fell with a muffled crash. By the time it hit the ground, it was no longer stone at all—just coarse brown dust.

And the hole it had made? Slowly, methodically, it was sealing itself shut.

A low crack echoed through the corridor as new ice crept across the wound, knitting it closed like a living thing repairing flesh. Within seconds, the floor was whole again—smooth, perfect, and cold.

Ludger crouched, placing his gloved hand against the surface. He focused, probing with his mana, and felt it immediately—the solid, inert layer of ice stretching meters thick before the faint pulse of true earth answered him from far below.

That’s it.

His expression hardened. The labyrinth wasn’t just covered in frost—it was built from it. Every surface, every wall, every floor tile was a shell of ice and frozen mana that swallowed his earth affinity.

No wonder his spell felt heavy. The ice wasn’t just blocking him—it was resisting him.

The frost mana here is muting my control. It’s choking out the earth beneath… twisting how I channel energy.

He stood slowly, brushing his fingers against his gauntlet. The cold had left them numb.

Kharnek’s voice broke the silence. “Something wrong, boy?”

Ludger shook his head. “No. Just keeping track of the terrain.”

He cast one more glance at the sealed patch of floor. The labyrinth almost looked smug, as if it had erased his spell on purpose.

So that’s how it is, he thought. 

He fell back into formation behind Kharnek, his expression calm but his mind turning. If the frost itself was suppressing his strength, he’d need to find a way to use it against itself—or risk being buried alive in a place that devoured the very ground he stood on.

Ludger lingered near the sealed patch of ice. His gaze drifted to the pile of coarse sand left behind — the remains of his Earth Spear, once sharp and dense, now nothing but grit.

He crouched, fingers sifting through the cold grains. The texture was strange — still warm from mana, but faintly tainted by the labyrinth’s froststeel essence.

He frowned, then narrowed his eyes in thought.

If the ice is cutting me off from the ground… maybe I just need to bring the ground with me.

He pressed his palm into the sand and pushed mana into it.

A pulse ran through his arm — muted at first, then rising with a deep, rumble. The grains vibrated, fused, and hardened in a ripple of brown light. Within seconds, the sand stiffened and reformed — reshaping itself into the same spear he had conjured earlier, compact and solid in his hand.

Ludger lifted it experimentally, the weight balanced and familiar. He gave it a quick spin, feeling the response. The flow of mana was stable now, clean.

A small grin tugged at his lips. “So that’s it,” he muttered. “Use the old spell as a medium. The frost kills the link, but not the material.”

He tightened his grip. The spear felt alive again, humming faintly with his energy.

Kharnek, watching from a few steps away, tilted his head. “You planning to fight in the front with that thing, boy?”

Ludger glanced over, the faintest smirk crossing his face. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

The chieftain barked a short laugh. “You and your secrets. Fine—just don’t get stepped on.”

Ludger’s eyes gleamed with quiet amusement as he rested the earthen spear against his shoulder. 

He could already feel the labyrinth’s frost pressing in around them again, trying to smother the heat of his mana. But now he had something solid — a piece of earth he could carry, reshape, and reuse.

Let the ice shift all it wants, he thought. It won’t cut me off again.

Kharnek eyed the spear in Ludger’s hands with clear doubt. The thing looked solid enough, but compared to a northern weapon, it had the weight and thickness of a tree branch.

He crossed his arms. “That’s your big idea? You plan to poke the ice to death?”

Ludger didn’t rise to the bait. He just tested the balance of the spear again, turning it in one hand until the sand-grain texture caught the light. “You’ll see soon enough.”

Brynja raised an eyebrow but said nothing, her attention half on the walls. Even Ulf, normally silent, gave a skeptical grunt.

They didn’t have to wait long.

From the next corridor came two sets again. One heavier, shield clattering, the other lighter, sharper — the sound of a drawn bow.

“Another pair,” Brynja murmured.

Kharnek cracked his knuckles. “Good. Let’s see if that twig can keep up.”

The first skeleton, armored in thick frost, came charging from the shadows — and right behind it, the archer began to form its bow, drawing back the icy string.

Ludger’s mana surged. He twisted his wrist, channeled the pulse through his hand, and hurled the spear.

The air cracked.

The projectile spun like a drill, wrapped in a whirling sheath of brown mana that tore the frost-laden air apart. It streaked across the corridor with a low, thunderous hum—then slammed into the frost archer’s torso before it could release its arrow.

The impact was catastrophic.

The creature didn’t just shatter; it exploded, fragments of froststeel and bone scattering across the walls. The bow of ice disintegrated midair, and the echo of the hit rolled through the chamber like a cannon shot.

By the time the dust settled, nothing remained of the archer but a smoking crater of ice and drifting shards.

Kharnek, mid-step toward the frost knight, froze in place. Even Brynja and Ulf had stopped to stare.

“…Huh,” Kharnek muttered.

Then, with a grunt, he turned back to his own opponent. The frost knight swung its blade high — Kharnek stepped in, grabbed its arm, and crushed its skull against the wall in two quick motions.

When he turned back around, Ludger was already walking toward the remains of his victim, retrieving the froststeel shard from what used to be a ribcage.

Kharnek just stared at him. So did his underlings.

Brynja finally broke the silence. “…That’s not how an earth spear is supposed to work.”

Ludger shrugged. “Guess the labyrinth didn’t get the memo.”

Ulf’s brow furrowed, voice rumbling low. “You sure you’re not hiding a catapult in those armguards?”

Kharnek’s expression hovered somewhere between disbelief and pride. “You throw a stick like that again, and I’ll start making my soldiers carry sand buckets just to keep up.”

Ludger smirked faintly, tucking the recovered shard into his belt pouch. “Or you could just let me handle the archers.”

Kharnek barked a laugh, shaking his head. “Fine by me. Just remind me never to stand in front of you when you’re aiming.”

The group moved on, the echo of their boots fading into the next frozen corridor — and behind them, the labyrinth sealed the crater with slow, creeping ice, as if trying to erase the evidence of what had just happened.

Ludger wore his usual confident smirk — calm, sharp, like he’d expected the result all along. He spun the froststeel shard between his fingers as if the display had been nothing more than routine.

Kharnek and the others started moving again, muttering to each other in low tones, but Ludger stayed a few steps behind — eyes half-lidded, mind spinning faster than his spear had.

Inside, his thoughts were anything but composed.

You absolute idiot.

He clenched his jaw, hiding the twitch of frustration behind the faint curl of his lip.

All this time, all those fights, and I never thought of it. Controlling thrown objects with mana — not with direct Telekinesis, but by keeping the connection through the earth aspect. It’s the same principle. The material’s mine, reinforced with my mana, my affinity… why wouldn’t I be able to guide it after manipulating it?

He tightened his grip on the shard, feeling the faint pulse of residual mana still inside it.

I could’ve been doing this for months, he thought bitterly. Hell, I could’ve been fighting mid-range without switching to any wind or spellwork. Just pure, clean control.

He sighed under his breath, eyes flicking to the polished ice floor ahead.

Brilliant, Ludger. Real genius move. You only had to risk your neck in a labyrinth full of undead to figure out something that should’ve been obvious.

Still, the thought refused to leave. He could feel it now — that faint tether between him and the spear when he’d thrown it, the subtle pull he hadn’t consciously noticed before. His earth mana hadn’t stopped flowing once the weapon left his hand; it had followed it, shaping its path.

Not true Telekinesis — he couldn’t yank objects out of the air — but manipulation through resonance. So long as the material was connected to his mana, he could control its rotation, direction, even impact.

It was exhausting, yes — the drain still itched at the edge of his core — but it was worth it.

He exhaled softly, eyes narrowing with quiet satisfaction. “Guess I’m not just throwing spears anymore,” he muttered.

Kharnek, glancing back, raised an eyebrow. “You say something?”

Ludger straightened, the smirk snapping back into place. “Just thinking about how fragile your undead are.”

Kharnek barked a laugh, shaking his head. “Cocky little bastard.”

Ludger just smiled and fell in step again — though inside, he was already planning, recalculating, shaping the technique in his head.

Earth manipulation — guided projectiles, sustained connection, maybe layered compression for piercing…

His mind worked while his boots carried him deeper into the frost. For once, the labyrinth wasn’t just a threat — it was a teacher.

And for the first time in hours, Ludger felt the familiar spark of discovery, the kind that made him forget the cold, the danger, and the fatigue. He couldn’t wait to try again.

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