As the Ironhand members worked to dismantle what was left of the golem, Ludger lingered nearby, crouched in the shallow water beside its open chest cavity. The glow from the remaining mana cores reflected across his gloves, painting faint blue patterns over his arms.

He wasn’t looking at the monster like the others did, with caution or awe. He was studying it.

Tracing the lines of its inner runic lattice, the way each core linked to the next, he could almost feel the logic behind it. A mana circuit, layered and precise, optimized for energy flow rather than brute enchantment.

For the first time in a long while, something tugged at the part of his mind that used to love building, not just fighting.

He’d spent his second life focused on survival, on defending others, on earning peace. But studying? Innovating? That had fallen away somewhere along the road.

His eyes followed one of the conduits leading from a cracked shoulder plate down into the torso. The craftsmanship was near-perfect, geometric balance designed for constant recalibration. The more he stared, the more it reminded him of the things he used to see in labs and schematics… back on Earth.

He didn’t say a word about it. The others wouldn’t understand. They’d see danger where he saw potential. Still, the thought stuck. Could I replicate this?

Not to mass-produce weapons or turn the world upside down, he had no desire to bring Earth’s technology here. The last thing he wanted was to make this world feel too comfortable. That was a mistake he’d never repeat.

But a guardian?

A construct built to protect, not destroy? Something to watch over his mother, his siblings, his people when he couldn’t be there himself…

That idea felt different. Grounded, practical, and right.

He stood slowly, brushing the water off his gloves, and looked down at the half-dissected machine one last time. “Yeah,” he murmured to himself. “There’s something to learn here.”

His reflection wavered in the still water between the runes, surrounded by the faint blue glow of dormant power. “Not to change the world,” he said quietly, almost to no one. “Just to make sure mine stays safe.”

Arslan was still wiping the water from his blade when he turned to Ludger. The corridor was a mess of steam and shattered metal, the air thick with the stench of burnt mana. The water level had already crept back up around their knees, rippling faintly from the lingering vibrations of the battle.

He sheathed his sword with a faint click and gave Ludger that look, the half-practical, half-impatient one he always wore when logistics got in the way of fighting.

“Tell me, Luds,” he said, gesturing at the flooded floor, “can you do something about this

? The water, I mean. At least during combat. I’m getting tired of fighting like I’m knee-deep in soup.”

Ludger glanced down, the reflection of his face bending across the shallow surface. “I could,” he said simply. Arslan’s eyebrow rose. “But?”

Ludger exhaled, running a hand through his damp hair. “But not here. Not in this place.”

He crouched and pressed his palm against the floor. The faint pulse of mana beneath the stone was overwhelming, dense, alive, like the labyrinth itself was breathing just under the surface. He could feel the earth magic there, but it wasn’t his. It was foreign, saturated, and unyielding.

“If I could create earth the way Gaius does, I’d just raise the whole ground above the water,” he explained, eyes narrowing in concentration. “Or if I had enough raw material, sand, soil, anything—I could move it inside and displace the water. But this floor isn’t normal stone. It’s fused with the labyrinth’s own mana.”

He stood again, shaking his head. “Trying to move it is like trying to sculpt something that’s already alive. Every spell I cast down here gets swallowed by the mana density. The whole structure’s resisting me.”

Arslan frowned slightly, kicking the water. “So it’s that bad, huh?”

Ludger nodded. “Worse. Even Gaius would struggle unless he focused his power into a very small area. The labyrinth’s mana flow is too heavy, it cancels external control. If I try to reshape the ground, I’ll just waste mana fighting against it.”

“So no dry footing,” Arslan muttered, half amused, half annoyed. “It is a pity.”

Ludger gave a small shrug. “Unless you want me to build you stilts. I will do something about it once we return.”

That earned him a quiet chuckle. “Tempting,” Arslan said. “But no. Save your mana for the next thing that tries to turn us into fish food.”

Ludger’s lips twitched in a faint smirk. “That’s the plan.”

He glanced deeper into the corridor, where the faint blue light pulsed from the carvings ahead. The water around his boots rippled again, disturbed by something deeper in the labyrinth.

“Still,” he said quietly, “if the mana’s that dense, the water’s not here by accident.”

Arslan looked at him curiously. “Meaning?”

Ludger’s eyes narrowed. “Meaning it’s part of the labyrinth’s system. And whatever’s controlling that… might be what’s waiting for us further in.”

They didn’t make it far before the next threat came for them. The corridor curved downward and opened into a wide chamber where the water swirled waist-high around broken stone. From the shadows at the far end, a dull blue glow flared, then the heavy clank-clank-clank of metal feet echoed through the hall.

Another runic golem stepped into view, its body gleaming with the same unnatural polish, its chest core pulsing like a heartbeat of light.

“Contact!” Rathen barked.

But this time, they were ready. The formation shifted instantly. Rathen strode forward, planting his shield into the flooded ground as the golem raised its arm. The three circular ports along its palm brightened, then spat another storm of mana bullets.

The impacts came like thunder, each one hammering the shield with explosive force. But before the barrage could chew through the barrier, Ludger darted up beside him.

“Hold still!” He slammed his palm against the shield’s back. Earthen Ward!

Mana surged across the surface, hardening it into stone-like resilience. The very water around their feet rippled from the surge of mana. Rathen felt the weight behind the blows lessen, the shock absorbed into the reinforced flow of earth energy.

The golem’s volley began to lose rhythm, steam venting from its arm as the barrels overheated.

“Now!” Rathen shouted.

Gaius was already moving. His hand struck the water once, twice, and the ground below the golem shuddered. Two jagged earth spikes erupted upward from beneath its feet, glowing faintly with hardened mana. The sharpened pillars struck the construct’s legs and locked them in place before bursting upward again, sending the golem lurching off balance.

The creature stumbled sideways, its arm still raised. Its aim broke, mana bullets sprayed wild, smashing into the ceiling and carving molten scars through the stone instead of their heads.

“Perfect,” Gaius muttered.

Arslan’s Overdrive flared to life in a burst of golden light. The moment the golem staggered, he charged, boots exploding through the water, sword igniting with mana. His aura burned sharp and steady as he slammed into its right side, slicing deep into the arm joint with surgical precision.

At the same instant, Kharnek roared, a deep, guttural sound that made the entire hall vibrate. The air around him shimmered crimson as Rage Flow surged through his veins, veins bulging beneath his skin as his muscles swelled with unnatural strength. Another layer of barbarian power, dark red and primal, coursed through him, making his whole body pulse like living magma.

He hit the golem from the left, axe swinging in wild arcs that bit through metal and coral plating alike. Sparks and molten fragments sprayed into the air with every strike.

The machine twisted, its torso snapping left to right in an attempt to recalibrate, but it was too slow. Arslan’s sword carved through its right arm with a burst of light. Kharnek’s axe slammed down and split the left clean off, gears and cores spilling into the water.

The golem convulsed once, its chest light flickering erratically—then collapsed, splashing down into the flood with a deafening crash.

Steam hissed from its joints, mana leaking out in fading bursts as the water calmed around the wreck.

Arslan straightened, lowering his blade. “That,” he said between breaths, “is how we handle these things.”

Kharnek grinned, axe still smoking. “Aye. Keep the boy’s magic up and I’ll crack every one of these tin demons in half.”

Ludger didn’t answer. He was already watching the faint blue glow bleeding from the golem’s ruined chest, his mind turning over what he’d just seen.  Each one of these monsters was a masterpiece of runic design—and every time they destroyed one, he wanted to understand it a little more.

As the steam thinned and the echo of clashing steel faded, Lucius stepped forward through the shallow water, the faint crimson glow of his saber reflecting off the fallen golem’s metal shell. He looked over the group, some still catching their breath, others already resetting formation, and spoke with the calm authority of someone who’d spent his life turning chaos into discipline.

“That went well,” he began, his tone measured. “Better than the first. Which means we’ve found a method that works.”

He rested a hand on his saber’s hilt, scanning the corridor ahead. “We’ll take down one more of these constructs, test the rhythm again, solidify our formation, and make sure the timing between the Ward, Gaius’s spikes, and the vanguard is precise. Once we’re sure of the pattern, we return to plan.”

His gaze flicked between Rathen and Arslan. “Every team in this expedition will need to replicate this. We can’t afford improvisation in every corridor. We’ll draw up a training sequence for the others before we advance deeper. If we want to reach the end of this labyrinth, we need pace, and control.”

The logic was sound. Everyone knew it.

Arslan nodded. “Agreed. The faster we make this routine, the fewer people we’ll lose.”

Kharnek grunted his approval. “Hnh. Lack of surprises. I can live with that… for now.”

Even Rathen’s Ironhand soldiers seemed relieved at the idea of having an actual plan beyond “survive and swing.”

But from the rear line, Viola groaned audibly. She crossed her arms and kicked the water with her boot, muttering, “Why do guys always have to make everything so methodical? You finally get into the fun part, and then it’s all tactics this, formation that. You take the soul out of it.”

Several people exchanged looks, half amused, half exasperated.

Ludger turned his head slightly toward her, eyebrow twitching. “Fun,” he repeated dryly. “You call nearly getting vaporized by a walking siege weapon fun?”

Viola shrugged, smirking. “It’s exciting. Keeps you sharp.”

Ludger stared at her for a moment, then let out a slow sigh. “You really crave chaos and disorganization that much? You act like unpredictability and danger are the same thing as excitement.”

“They are,” she said, grinning wider.

He gave her a long, unimpressed look. “You’re going to get along great with Kharnek.”

The northerner barked out a laugh. “Finally, someone who gets it!”

Lucius pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please don’t encourage her,” he muttered.

Viola chuckled, clearly proud of herself, and the tension in the group eased just a little. The water rippled faintly around their legs, catching the dim blue light from the runes along the wall.

Ludger shook his head, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth despite himself. “Fine,” he said. “You can keep your chaos. Just don’t expect the rest of us to die for it.”

“Deal,” Viola said, unbothered.

Lucius exhaled through his nose, already turning back toward the dark corridor ahead. “Then let’s move. One more of these things, and then we plan properly. The deeper we go, the worse it’s going to get.”

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