When the morning fog finally began to lift, Ludger, Gaius, and Kharnek reached the bridge site — and all three frowned almost in unison.

Down by the shoreline, Varik stood in full armor, silver-blue plate gleaming faintly under the early light. But what drew more attention was the figure standing beside him.

Lucius Hakuen.

He wore traveling clothes rather than noble attire, though the fabric still carried the understated wealth of his house — reinforced leather coat trimmed with silver threads and a saber sheathed at his hip. His hair had grown longer since the birthday banquet, tied back neatly, and though his expression was composed, there was a flicker of restlessness behind his eyes.

Rathen stood nearby, arms folded, his usual half-smirk missing. Clearly, he was here as Lucius’s guard.

Kharnek grunted, scratching his beard. “Looks like we’re late to our own mission.”

“Apparently,” Ludger muttered. His tone was flat, but his gaze lingered briefly on Lucius’s sword. Four years ago, the boy had been eager — reckless, even — but far from helpless. If he’s kept training, he might actually know how to use that thing now.

Still, he kept those thoughts to himself.

As they approached, Varik turned first, his expression carefully neutral. “Vice Guildmaster Ludger. Master Gaius. Chieftain Kharnek.”

Gaius nodded curtly. “Commander.”

Lucius offered a polite smile. “Good morning. I see your preparations are progressing.”

Ludger raised an eyebrow. “Our preparations?” He gestured toward the stretch of unfinished bridge that reached into the mist. “Building a stable line of stone pillars across the ocean will take a few days. You don’t have to be ready to leave this soon.”

Lucius didn’t flinch at the tone. “We’re aware. But if the sahuagins or something else attacks before the path is done, I’d rather we’re not caught unarmed.”

Rathen nodded in quiet agreement, his eyes scanning the waves.

Lucius continued, “Besides, Varik and I would like to see the conditions ourselves as soon as possible. If the Empire expects results, we should know what kind of ground we’re standing on—literally.”

Gaius exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. “That’s a fine way of saying you don’t trust our work.”

Lucius’s faint smile didn’t waver. “On the contrary, Master Gaius. I trust your work. I just don’t trust luck.”

Kharnek chuckled deeply at that, folding his arms. “He’s got a tongue sharper than his sword. Maybe this trip will toughen him up.”

“Or get him killed,” Ludger said under his breath, earning a brief glance from Gaius that was equal parts amusement and warning.

Lucius didn’t comment, pretending he hadn’t heard. “If all goes well, the bridge will be complete soon enough. But if it doesn’t…” He let the words trail off, his gaze shifting toward the horizon where the faint outline of the archipelago barely shimmered in the haze.

Ludger followed his eyes. “Then we’ll handle whatever’s waiting there,” he said simply.

Varik’s expression tightened slightly, but he said nothing.

The wind carried the crash of distant waves and the creak of unfinished wood, filling the silence that followed.

Gaius finally clapped a hand on Ludger’s shoulder. “We’d better start shaping that path. The sooner it’s done, the sooner we can test the Commander’s nerves.”

“Agreed,” Ludger said, his tone dry. 

Advancing with a small group made the crossing surprisingly easy. Six people were just enough to move in a tight formation, and the stone section of the bridge—barely wide enough for that number—felt steadier underfoot than expected. The sea wind cut sharp and cold across their faces as they pushed forward, waves slapping against the finished pillars far below.

After about an hour of travel, the group reached the edge of the constructed bridge thanks to Gaius Stone Surfing. Beyond it stretched nothing but mist and rolling ocean. Gaius exhaled, lowering one hand to the stone. “That’s far enough for now,” he said, his tone calm but tired. “I’ll rest a bit. The sea current messes with my mana control.”

“Then I’ll take it from here,” Ludger said, stepping forward.

He placed his palm against the last coral-and-stone pillar, closing his eyes to focus. His mana pulsed through the structure, resonating with the rock like a heartbeat. Fifty meters ahead, the water churned violently—and a new pillar rose from the depths in a surge of frothing waves and grinding stone.

Then, before the spray had even fallen back to the sea, Ludger extended his other hand. A bridge of hardened sand began to form, stretching between the two pillars like a living thing. The structure solidified as he infused it with more mana, the once-loose grains fusing into a dense, glasslike surface.

Three minutes. That was all it took.

Lucius and Rathen exchanged a look, visibly impressed—even though they had seen this before, it still wasn’t something one grew used to. The air trembled faintly with residual mana, and the ocean seemed to quiet for a brief moment after the feat.

Varik, however, stood still, watching intently with both arms crossed. The faint sea breeze tugged at his cloak, but his eyes never left the new bridge section. “So this is the geomancer’s craft,” he murmured. “To shape the earth as if it’s a limb of your own. Indeed, very impressive”

Gaius smirked faintly from where he sat, arms resting over his knees. “That’s the short version, Commander. Though some of us take years to make it look that smooth.”

Ludger didn’t turn, still focused on stabilizing the structure as he crossed over it. “Practice,” he said simply. “And less talking.”

That earned him a small laugh from Kharnek, who leaned on his axe. “Guess that means he’s not planning to slow down.”

Rathen grinned. “Better hope the sea keeps up.”

The bridge creaked slightly under their boots, but held firm as the group advanced again—Ludger at the front, his mana resonating faintly through the stone like a living pulse.

And for the first time, Varik truly understood why the Lionsguard and the Torvares family trusted a boy barely in his teens with something as monumental as this.

Varik’s gaze lingered on the newly shaped path, the faint shimmer of mana still fading from its surface. Even after the waves began crashing again, the structure didn’t so much as tremble. It was seamless—solid, balanced, unnervingly precise for something made in under three minutes.

He exhaled through his nose, almost impressed despite himself. “Now I see why geomancers are so sought after,” he said quietly. “You could change the course of nations with that kind of power.”

His tone carried no flattery—only observation. Still, his eyes flicked from the bridge to Ludger, who stood a few paces ahead, mana still faintly pulsing through the stone under his boots. The boy’s posture was relaxed, but there was a practiced discipline in the way he controlled the aftermath of each spell. No wasted motion, no needless flair.

Varik turned toward Gaius. “You’ve raised a good student, Master Gaius.”

Gaius smirked faintly, brushing some dust from his sleeve. “Don’t give me too much credit. Viola was a good student. Ludger’s an anomaly.”

Varik arched an eyebrow. “An anomaly?”

“Viola listened. She trained the way I told her to. I could predict how far she’d go.” Gaius nodded toward Ludger. “Him? He takes whatever you teach him, breaks it apart, and then builds something new. Half the time, I’m not sure if I’m mentoring him or just trying to keep him from burning out his mana.”

Varik’s lips twitched, almost a smile. “A dangerous kind of talent, then.”

“Depends who’s pointing it,” Gaius said.

Before the commander could reply, Ludger’s voice cut through the air from the edge of the bridge. “I’d be thankful if you two stopped talking like I’m not standing right here,” he said dryly without turning around. “It’s creepy.”

Kharnek burst out laughing, the sound booming across the waves. “He’s got a point, old man.”

Gaius shrugged. “Then stop giving me material to talk about. You are old too, Kharnek.”

Ludger glanced over his shoulder with that familiar half-glare, half-sigh expression he had mastered. “You’ll keep doing it anyway.”

Gaius didn’t deny it. “Probably.”

Varik allowed himself a quiet chuckle, more exhale than laugh. For a moment, the tension in his shoulders eased. The boy’s tone might have been sharp, but it was grounded—the kind of casual confidence that came from real battle experience. Not arrogance, not bravado. Just capability.

Still, as the group resumed moving forward, the commander’s gaze lingered on Ludger’s back. An anomaly, Gaius had said.

And Varik couldn’t help but wonder whether that was a good thing… or the start of something that would soon be beyond anyone’s control.

They didn’t make it far before the sea changed.

At first, it was just shadows—broad, dark shapes gliding beneath the turquoise surface. Then, as the group advanced, the water below turned murky and alive. Something massive brushed against one of the newly raised pillars with a dull thunk, and a deep vibration echoed through the bridge.

Ludger stopped mid-step, eyes narrowing. “…That wasn’t a wave.”

The others followed his gaze downward. Between the rolls of the current, the outline of a huge, scaled body passed beneath them, easily the size of a small boat. A second one followed, its fins slicing through the water like serrated knives. And they weren’t alone.

Farther out, more shapes shifted—some with slick hides, others covered in what looked like coral plating. Now and then, a tail breached the surface, scattering spray. Several of the creatures bore the unmistakable glow of mana veins along their sides.

Gaius muttered under his breath, “Great. Abyssal fauna… maybe even mutated from the labyrinth’s influence.”

“Looks like they’re keeping pace,” Rathen said grimly, one hand on his sword.

Varik got ready as well. The sea wind carried a strange, wet growl from below, the kind that vibrated in your chest more than your ears. The tension hung thick.

Then Kharnek, of all people, decided to break it. The northerner flashed a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “Heh. Guess the local wildlife came to welcome us. Always nice when dinner walks itself to the table.”

Nobody laughed. The sound that came out of Gaius was more of a grunt. “If you’re that hungry, be my guest. Just don’t expect us to fish you back out.”

Kharnek kept the grin up anyway, rubbing the back of his neck. “Can’t blame me for trying to lighten the mood. Sea’s too damn quiet for my liking.”

Ludger said nothing, but his eyes stayed locked on the nearest silhouette moving under the bridge. He could feel faint ripples of mana even through the stone beneath his feet. Whatever those things were, they weren’t ordinary monsters—they felt organized.

And that was a problem.

The water pulsed once more—closer this time.

Ludger exhaled slowly and muttered, “Stay sharp. If one of them surfaces, I’ll bring the bridge down on it.”

Kharnek’s smile faded, replaced by the grim calm of a man ready to fight. “Right. Dinner’s canceled, then.”

The sea rumbled again, and everyone braced as the next shadow began to rise. The ocean bulged.

For a moment, everyone froze as a massive shape rose beneath the waves—a living mountain of flesh and mana. Water cascaded off its back as a whale-like creature broke the surface, its hide black and gray, streaked with faint blue veins that pulsed with light.

The monster’s single, glassy eye swiveled toward the bridge. It was the size of a cartwheel. The air grew thick with pressure—pure, instinctive dread—before the creature released a low, resonant hum that vibrated through the pillars and into their bones.

Kharnek raised his axe slightly, his knuckles white. “…Anyone else feel like that thing just looked through us?”

No one answered. They all watched as the creature lingered for a few seconds more, its massive fins slicing through the surf. Then, without a sound, it turned away and sank back into the depths, the ocean swallowing it whole.

Only then did everyone exhale. The collective breath of relief sounded almost comical in the silence that followed.

Ludger rubbed his temple, muttering, “Good to know the ocean wants to play mind games now.”

He straightened, still keeping his eyes on the rippling surface. “Tell me something, Lucius—have there been any signs of sahuagins hunting other life out here? Fish, sea beasts, anything?”

Lucius shook his head. “None. Our scouts and the Ironhand ships haven’t reported anything of the sort.” He hesitated for a second, glancing toward the horizon. “As far as we can tell, the sahuagins only attack inland targets—villages, trade routes, the coast itself. Never the sea.”

Ludger frowned. “So they’re not defending territory. They’re being directed.”

Varik’s expression didn’t change, but his hand tightened around the spear at his back. “That’s your theory?”

“It’s the only one that makes sense,” Ludger replied. “Predators that don’t feed. Soldiers that don’t claim ground.” His tone was calm, but his eyes stayed fixed on the ocean as if he could still feel that giant’s gaze on them. “Someone’s giving orders down there.”

Gaius folded his arms. “And if that’s true, the labyrinth under the archipelago isn’t just expanding—it’s commanding.”

No one argued. Even the wind seemed to have quieted.

Ludger finally broke the silence with a low exhale. “Let’s keep moving. The faster we reach that place, the sooner we’ll know what we’re dealing with.”

Kharnek grunted. “Yeah, before something else decides to stare into our souls.”

The bridge creaked under their boots as they advanced once more, the horizon swallowing them in mist—while somewhere below, unseen things stirred in the deep.

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