Without another word, Ludger nodded and motioned to Gaius, Kharnek, and Freyra. The group began to make their way through the crowd—slow, casual, polite enough not to raise suspicion.

To the nobles, it probably looked like they were simply leaving early with the twins—perhaps tired of the noise, perhaps just being courteous.

But under the surface, every movement was measured.

Elaine kept the twins close, Kharnek took the rear, and Ludger led from the front, eyes sweeping the room for any sign of panic or pursuit. Nothing yet.

The music hadn’t stopped. The laughter hadn’t died. The nobles danced on, blissfully unaware that something had shifted beneath the surface of their celebration.

As they stepped out of the grand hall and into the dimly lit corridor beyond, the air felt different—cooler, sharper, the way it did right before something went wrong.

Ludger exhaled slowly. “Let’s find out what this is about before the whole manor figures it out.”

Arslan nodded grimly. “Agreed. But remember—whatever Rathen brought with him, it was urgent enough to interrupt an Earl’s heir in front of half the Empire.”

Ludger’s eyes narrowed. “Then it’s not good news.”

And as they disappeared down the corridor, the music behind them played on, bright and oblivious—masking the fact that the party had just ended for them.

The night air hit colder than expected when they stepped out of the Hakuen manor. The laughter and music from inside dulled behind the heavy doors, replaced by the distant soft clatter of hooves on cobblestone.

Outside, the manor courtyard was alive with motion.

A line of horses stood near the gate, their breath steaming in the chill air. Several riders from the Ironhand Syndicate were dismounting—men and women still in their riding cloaks, the insignia of the guild half-covered in dust. Their faces were tight with exhaustion, their eyes darting toward the manor windows as if weighing whether to rush in or not.

Even without words, Ludger could tell they’d ridden hard.

Viola stepped forward, her presence snapping them to attention. “What happened?”

One of the riders hesitated, glancing toward the manor guards stationed at the gate. The Hakuen men were watching closely—too closely. A few curious civilians loitered near the carriages as well, pretending to check the horses but clearly eavesdropping.

The guild rider swallowed. “Lady Torvares… we should—”

“Speak,” Viola pressed, lowering her tone but keeping her posture firm. “Now.”

The man’s jaw tightened, but he still hesitated, his eyes flicking between her and the guards. Whatever the news was, it wasn’t something he could say openly.

Ludger stepped closer, scanning the riders. Mud streaked their boots, and sea salt crusted their cloaks—signs they’d come straight from the coast. His gut tightened.

Before he could say anything, a shadow flickered at the edge of his vision.

A faint movement behind Viola—so subtle he almost missed it.

Then a voice whispered directly into Viola’s ear.

Luna.

She’d appeared out of nowhere, silent as a ghost, her hood low and eyes sharp under the dim lantern light. Her sudden presence barely disturbed the air, but Ludger felt it—a subtle ripple in the mana flow, a chill that brushed past his neck like a breeze.

Viola tensed, then listened.

Ludger caught only a few words carried on the whisper, but they were enough.

“…sahuagins… on the coast.”

Ludger’s stomach sank. He turned slightly, eyes narrowing at Luna as she straightened beside Viola.

Luna gave the faintest nod—confirmation, no theatrics, no elaboration.

That alone was enough to make the air heavier.

Arslan’s expression hardened immediately. “They attacked again.”

“More than that,” Ludger said quietly. “Rathen wouldn’t come running to a noble’s birthday over a few fishmen. This has to be big.”

Viola’s eyes flicked toward the manor doors. “Then Lucius is probably being briefed right now.”

“Which means,” Gaius added grimly, “we need to move before this turns into panic.”

Kharnek grunted, his hand already resting on the haft of his axe. “Let’s get to the coast and see what’s left standing.”

Arslan nodded once. “Agreed. We leave through the side road—quietly. No alarms.”

Ludger looked to Luna. “Details?”

Her voice was soft, almost a breath. “They hit the southern stretch near the bridge. Heavy numbers. Too organized.”

Ludger’s jaw clenched. “Then it’s not random anymore.”

He adjusted his coat, eyes glinting under the moonlight. “Alright. Time to find out who’s feeding these things cores.”

As the group moved quickly toward their own carriage, the music inside the manor carried faintly into the night—still bright, still oblivious.

No one inside knew that while they danced and toasted to the Empire’s future, the sea outside was already boiling with monsters.

The carriage jolted down the dirt road, its wheels grinding against the uneven path. The night had swallowed the coast whole—no moon, no starlight, only the faint glow of distant lanterns trembling in the wind.

Inside, the air was thick with tension.

Arslan held the reins up front beside Kharnek, urging the horses faster. Viola and Elaine sat opposite Ludger, each trying to peer through the curtained windows, but the dark outside was near absolute. Only the sound of waves—faint and irregular—broke the silence.

“Anything?” Viola asked, her voice low but steady.

“Nothing yet,” Arslan called back. “Too far from the shoreline.”

Ludger sat still for a moment, then exhaled through his nose. “It’s too quiet.”

He leaned forward and started unbuttoning his coat, shrugging it off before pulling his shirt over his head. Elaine gave him a questioning glance, but he didn’t explain. He didn’t need to.

The carriage lantern flickered briefly, just enough to reveal the dull gleam of reinforced metal beneath his sleeves—his forearm guards, strapped tight with worn leather. He adjusted them methodically, the clinking of buckles cutting through the silence. Then he rolled up his pant legs, revealing the matching shin guards beneath.

He was already dressed for battle. Always was.

While everyone else had come to the manor unarmed for the sake of appearances, Ludger had learned his lesson a long time ago. You didn’t ever walk into another man’s territory empty-handed.

The cold metal against his skin steadied him.

Viola arched a brow. “You came to a noble ball wearing armor under your clothes?”

“Habit,” he said simply.

Luna, sitting quietly near the door, gave a small smirk. “A good one.”

Ludger shot her a look. “Speaking of which—please tell me you brought something useful.”

Without a word, Luna’s hand dipped beneath her skirt. A faint metallic whisper followed as she produced a slim, curved blade—its edge faintly catching what little light filled the cabin.

Viola blinked. “…You had that the entire night?”

Luna’s lips curved faintly. “You’d be surprised what I can hide.”

Ludger raised a hand. “I’ll take your word for it.” He really didn’t want to think too hard about the logistics.

The carriage hit a bump, jolting them all slightly. Ludger steadied himself, glancing toward the window again. Still nothing but blackness. No flickers of fire, no shadows of movement, no light from their coastal base in the distance.

A dull knot formed in his gut.

“Gaius should be there,” he murmured. “If something hit the coast, he’ll hold them back.”

Arslan nodded grimly from the front. “Aye, but even Gaius can’t fight off a tide alone.”

Ludger’s fingers drummed against his knee, his mana pulsing faintly under his skin like a caged current. The urge to jump off the moving carriage and sprint ahead was strong—but reckless.

He forced himself to breathe, to focus.

The sea breeze grew stronger the closer they came to the coast. The faint smell of salt mixed with something else—burnt wood.

“Almost there,” Kharnek said, his eyes narrowing toward the faint orange haze on the horizon.

Ludger followed his gaze and caught the first flicker of firelight far ahead—low and scattered, not from torches.

“Damn it,” he muttered. “The base.”

Arslan tightened his grip on the reins. “Brace yourselves. We’re riding straight in.”

The carriage surged forward, wheels biting deep into the dirt.

Ludger reached out, steadying the twins’ cradle beside Elaine, then drew a slow, steady breath. The night outside was burning now—orange, black, and alive with chaos. And somewhere within that inferno, Gaius was still fighting.

Moments later, shapes began emerging from the dark—Kharnek first, his massive frame brushing the ceiling as he climbed out, followed by Freyra and Luna, each already carrying bundles of weapons wrapped in cloth. Viola and Arslan took them quickly, distributing gear in practiced silence.

Within a minute, everyone was armed and ready. The old rhythm kicked in—the Lionsguard way of doing things. No shouting. No panic. Just motion.

Ludger tightened his gauntlets and glanced toward the coast. The air smelled faintly of salt and blood, and he could already feel the distant hum of clashing. “Good. Stay tight and move fast.”

The moment he said it, he was already gone.

Ludger broke into a sprint through the area leading toward the shoreline, mana pulsing faintly under his skin. His boots hit the ground hard, sand scattering with each step.

He could hear it now—the fight. The hiss of spells, the guttural cries of sahuagins, and the sharp thunder of Gaius’s geomancy tearing through the earth.

They didn’t need to protect the base itself; that was just stone and walls. But the coast—the coast mattered. If the sahuagins pushed inland, they’d wreck the supply routes, the workers, and the bridge. That would stall the entire operation and make the Empire’s vultures start asking questions.

And Ludger hated answering to nobles more than monsters.

He crested the final dune, the salty wind whipping against his face. Ahead, he saw it—a chaotic scene lit by scattered fires. Dozens of sahuagins clawed their way up from the surf, their scaled bodies glistening under the starlight.

But before any could breach the sand, the ground itself rebelled.

Dozens of stone shards burst upward in sequence, firing like a barrage of heavy bolts. Each projectile slammed through a sahuagin’s torso, sending sprays of dark blood across the shore.

At the center of it all stood Gaius.

Arms crossed, posture unshaken, his eyes glowed faintly. Every time his heel tapped the ground, the sand rippled outward and spat another volley of stone bullets, cutting through the attacking line like a reloading siege engine.

Ludger slowed, taking in the scene as another wave of sahuagins broke against the storm of geomancy.

“Came fast,” Gaius said without looking back, his voice carrying easily through the chaos. “Didn’t think you’d run here half-dressed.”

“Didn’t plan to, either,” Ludger said, stopping beside him. “Status?”

Gaius’s next step sent a fresh burst of bullets screaming through the air. “Tide’s thinning. They’re not aiming for the base—they’re heading for the bridge. Big swarm further down the coast. I decided to protect this place instead and let the ironhand syndicate do their job there, but it might not be enough.”

Ludger frowned. “Figures. The bridge’s mana cores must be drawing them in. They are boxes filled with them there…”

Gaius finally turned his head, smirking faintly under the faint glow of residual magic. “I’ve got this area covered. Go help the others. The builders’ll be caught between the surf and the structure if nobody intervenes.”

Ludger nodded once. “Understood.”

He didn’t waste another word. Turning toward the south, he broke into a run again, the sand exploding under his boots.

The roar of waves grew louder the closer he got to the bridge. In the distance, the faint orange light of burning torches and collapsing scaffolds flickered—a warning.

The sahuagins weren’t just raiding anymore.

They were coming in waves.

And if the workers fell, the bridge—and everything they’d built with it—would go down with them.

Ludger clenched his fists, mana rising like pressure in his veins. “Not tonight.”

And then he sprinted faster, heading straight for the fight that waited on the water’s edge.

While Ludger sprinted toward the bridge, the rest of the group emerged and stepped into the chaos of the coastal wind.

The air was thick with the smell of salt and mana, the dull thud of Gaius’s geomancy echoing through the dunes. Even from here, the rhythmic pulse of his magic was unmistakable—sharp bursts that made the ground hum underfoot.

They hurried toward the sound, weapons ready.

By the time they reached the shoreline, the battle was already half-won. Broken sahuagin bodies littered the sand, riddled with stone shards. The tide pulled dark water back and forth, washing over the corpses like it was trying to reclaim them.

At the center stood Gaius, arms folded, a faint heat still radiating from his skin. He looked as though he hadn’t moved an inch since the fight started.

Viola was the first to approach. “Still breathing, Gaius?”

Gaius cracked a grin. “Barely. Thought I’d leave some for the rest of you, but they kept coming.”

Viola’s eyes scanned the coast. “They hit hard?”

“Not as hard as they could’ve,” Gaius said, nodding toward the distant waves. “But they’re spreading. Some groups veered east—likely toward the fishing villages. The guards’ll be tied up at the bridge, and if those creatures reach the smaller settlements, it’ll turn into a slaughter.”

The mood shifted immediately.

Luna’s expression darkened. “There are half a dozen villages in the area.”

“Seven,” Gaius corrected. “Closest two within a mile. No walls, barely any soldiers.”

Freyra spat to the side. “Then they’ll die before dawn if no one moves.”

Viola didn’t hesitate. “Then we split up.”

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