When dinner was finally over and Elaine went to tuck the twins into bed, the house settled into that rare, fragile quiet that only existed between storms.

Arslan wandered in from the hallway, rubbing his nose and letting out a tired sneeze. “By the gods,” he muttered, “either the air’s thick tonight or my instincts are allergic to peace.”

Ludger glanced up from clearing the table. “You survived dinner, so I assume you stayed out of trouble today?”

Arslan groaned as he dropped into the nearest chair. “Mostly. Your mother told me to keep the twins busy in their room until she finished interrogating you. Said she needed ‘privacy’ for a chat.”

“Interrogation’s accurate,” Ludger said dryly.

Arslan chuckled weakly. “Yeah, I figured. That’s why I made sure to keep my distance from the woman who taught you wind magic.”

Ludger raised an eyebrow. “You met her?”

“Not met, no,” Arslan said, shaking his head. “But I saw her from the street, and that was close enough. A woman walking through town in what I can only describe as decorative armor? No, thank you. I didn’t even step within a hundred meters. I’ve learned my lesson, just being seen near someone like that would buy me an hour-long lecture.”

He leaned back with a weary sigh. “Your mother’s patient, but not that patient. I’m not giving her any more reasons to doubt me. I’ve already used up a lifetime’s worth.”

Ludger smirked faintly, folding a towel. “Good call.”

Arslan chuckled again, rubbing his face. “You’re learning, Luds. There are two kinds of danger in this world: monsters outside the walls… and women inside the house.”

Ludger hummed. “The second one’s deadlier.”

“No argument here,” Arslan said with a lopsided grin.

From the other room came Elaine’s faint voice, gentle, melodic, reading softly to the twins. The tone was calm, but both men felt the same instinctive chill crawl down their spines.

Arslan lowered his voice. “See? Even her storytelling sounds like judgment.”

Ludger’s smirk deepened. “Still think she married down?”

“Every day,” Arslan said immediately, smiling despite the exhaustion. “That’s the scary part.”

Ludger stood, gathering his notes from the table once Elaine’s voice faded down the hall. “I’ll be in my room,” he said quietly. “Still have work to finish.”

He turned toward the stairs, but Arslan raised a hand. “Hold on a second.”

Ludger stopped mid-step, glancing back. “What is it?”

Arslan leaned on the chair, lowering his voice. “Did you invite that Kaela woman to join the guild?”

Ludger frowned. “No.”

“Why not?” Arslan asked, brows furrowed. “Wind mages are rare, and from what I’ve heard, she’s competent enough. Could’ve been a good addition.”

“She’s also loud, provocative, and enjoys attention far too much,” Ludger replied flatly. “I don’t know enough about her background to trust her, and she looks like the kind of person who brings chaos wherever she goes. So, no. Not worth the trouble.”

Arslan opened his mouth to argue—“Are you sure? I mean, wind magic could really—”

Then both of them froze.

A faint pressure filled the air from upstairs. Not sound. Not movement. Just the feeling—the cold, suffocating aura that only one being in this house could emit.

Arslan’s face went pale. “You know what? Yeah. Good call,” he said quickly, voice suddenly too cheerful. “No need for more wind mages. We’ve got enough storms in this house.”

Ludger gave him a knowing look. “Thought so.”

They stood in silence for a moment as the air’s temperature returned to normal. Then Ludger nodded once and continued toward his room, his footsteps quiet and deliberate.

“Yeah,” Arslan whispered, staring up at the ceiling. “Definitely her aura.”

Ludger closed his door behind him and sank onto the bed, the soft creak of the frame barely audible over his long, tired sigh.

The day had been productive, successful, even, but the emotional gauntlet that was his family dinner had drained him more than all the training and magic experimentation combined.

He stared at the ceiling, hands behind his head. Mother’s getting better, he thought. A little.

There was a time, not that long ago, when Elaine had refused to even let him step outside Lionfang without someone shadowing him. She used to make him promise to come back before sunset. Her overprotectiveness had softened over the years, but only slightly.

And part of that was because of Arslan. Ludger smirked faintly. His father’s past had finally caught up to him, every rumor, every reckless adventure, every “incident” that started with charm and ended with a tavern brawl. Elaine had learned to live with it, but not to forget it. And now, somehow, Ludger had inherited the weight of both of them, the discipline of his mother, the reputation of his father.

“Great legacy,” he muttered under his breath.

He turned onto his side, the room dim except for the faint moonlight filtering through the window.

Older women, he thought idly. That’s my preference anyway.

It wasn’t even a question of attraction, it was practicality. Having lived a lifetime before this one, the thought of dealing with the drama and emotional chaos of someone his apparent age sounded exhausting and morally wrong as well. 

Besides, the last thing his already-overworked mind needed was more stress. Romance, right now, was nothing but a distraction. Complications waiting to happen.

He already had enough on his plate, governing Lionfang, managing the guild, training recruits, tracking the southern expedition, experimenting with Overdrive, and navigating the delicate politics between the Empire and Torvares territory.

Adding feelings to that? No thanks. He exhaled again, letting the fatigue settle. “Too many problems already,” he murmured. “No room for another one.”

The wind outside brushed softly against the window, almost like a quiet acknowledgment.

Within minutes, Ludger’s eyes grew heavy. The hum of his mana faded into calm.  Tomorrow would bring new challenges, but for once, his mind was still.

A week passed in steady rhythm.

Between guild management, training the kids, and paperwork that never seemed to end, Ludger still carved out time each day to refine his control over wind magic. The first few attempts were rough—keeping air currents stable required constant focus—but once he understood the rhythm, it became second nature.

He practiced Wind Wall relentlessly. In the courtyard, in his room, even out in the fields beyond Lionfang’s walls, the air would shimmer faintly wherever he stood. He tested it against thrown rocks, blunt strikes, and even low-level fire spells. The results were promising: not true resistance, but perfect deflection.

By the fifth day, his Wind Enchanter class had already climbed to Level 5. And with it came a new notification.

[Skill Unlocked: Wind Step Lv. 1]

Harnesses surrounding air currents to propel the user forward in short bursts. Reduces friction and enhances acceleration for the duration. Increased levels increases travel distance and speed. Costs 50 mana per use.

The first time Ludger activated it, the sensation was completely different from any movement enhancement he’d ever used. His body didn’t jump or flash forward—it glided.

A sudden burst of pressure surged beneath his feet, the air compressing like an invisible spring. Then, in the space of a heartbeat, he was moving, fast, smooth, effortless, as if the world had tilted and he was sliding through it rather than running across it.

Dust kicked up behind him, swirling into a spiral where he’d stood. He came to a stop several meters ahead, the rush of displaced wind tugging at his clothes. It felt less like he was forcing movement, and more like he was being carried by it.

He flexed his fingers, the faint hum of mana still vibrating through his veins. “So that’s Wind Step…”

It wasn’t just speed, it was momentum control. The ability to shift, dodge, and reposition without relying on brute strength or muscle tension. A small, satisfied smirk crept onto his face. With this, his Overdrive mobility could finally rival that of a true high-speed combatant.

“Alright,” he murmured to himself, feeling the current stir around him. “Let’s see how far this wind can take me.”

Ludger was halfway through testing another Wind Step burst when a familiar voice floated in from behind him—light, teasing, and utterly unwelcome.

“Well, color me impressed,” Kaela said, hands on her hips as she sauntered into the courtyard. “You already learned Wind Step and with that level of precision? Most apprentices spend a month tripping over their own legs before they even figure out which way the wind’s blowing. At this rate, improving should take you no time at all.”

Ludger exhaled through his nose, turning to face her. “Why are you still around?”

Kaela pouted, mock-offended. “Ouch. You really know how to make a lady feel welcome.”

“Usually,” Ludger said flatly, “you make it easy for people not to.”

Her smirk returned, playful as ever. “You sound just like the women in every town I visit. They’re always so harsh with me.”

“Do you understand why?” Ludger asked.

She blinked, then gave a lazy shrug. “Not my fault, really. I just look like this. It’s natural for me to be an eyesore to women—and, well, quite the view for sore-eyed men.”

Ludger stared at her for a long second, expression unreadable. Then he said, very evenly, “You should know my mother already interrogated me about you.”

Kaela tilted her head, still smiling. “Oh? How’d that go?”

“I survived,” Ludger said. “You might not. If she finds out you’re still hanging around, your life might be in danger.”

Kaela laughed lightly, brushing a lock of hair over her shoulder. “You’re joking.”

He didn’t smile.

Her laugh faltered when she noticed the look in his eyes—calm, steady, and completely serious. There was no bluff in his tone, no hint of exaggeration. Just quiet certainty, like a man stating the weather before a storm.

Kaela’s smirk faded into a nervous chuckle. “…Right. Maybe I’ll keep my distance then.”

“Good idea,” Ludger said, turning back toward the open yard. “The wind might not be the only thing that kills quickly around here.”

She blinked at him, torn between offense and unease, before deciding that leaving was probably the smartest course of action.

As her footsteps faded, Ludger let out a quiet breath and muttered, “Finally.”

The breeze that followed seemed to agree with him.

Kaela raised her hands defensively, sensing that she was teetering dangerously close to another verbal cliff.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that,” she said quickly. “I wasn’t stalking you, alright? I was watching my little sister.”

Ludger turned to her, eyebrow slightly raised. “Watching her?”

“Yeah,” Kaela said, nodding, tone softening a little. “Tali’s… well, she’s a sweet kid, but she doesn’t know when to stop. I wanted to make sure she doesn’t spend her entire stipend on nonsense. Which, by the way—” she pointed a thumb toward town, “—she’s already halfway there. I caught her and the others at the bakery twice this week. You wouldn’t believe how fast your recruits can blow through coin when sugar’s involved.”

Ludger sighed under his breath. “I can believe it.”

Kaela chuckled. “Still, I’ll give you this, they look better. Healthier. A lot more focused than when I first saw them hanging around the village. Guess you actually know what you’re doing.”

Her tone shifted slightly, less teasing now, more genuine. “Despite the Lionsguard’s reputation, I wanted to see for myself how they were being treated. Good fame or not, I wasn’t going to just send Tali off with strangers and hope for the best.”

Ludger regarded her for a long moment, the faintest hint of approval flickering in his expression. “That’s… surprisingly responsible of you.”

She smirked. “You sound shocked.”

“I am,” Ludger said dryly. “You almost sounded respectable just now, with that kind of reasoning.”

Kaela blinked, then narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Almost?”

He gestured vaguely toward her attire. “If it weren’t for the clothes.”

She looked down at herself, the short cloak, the gleaming plates barely qualifying as armor, and grinned. “What, this? I’ll have you know it’s battle-tested fashion. Wind magic works better with less drag.”

“Right,” Ludger said flatly. “Less drag. More distraction. Make the men unfocused and the women enraged.”

Kaela put a hand on her hip, half laughing, half offended. “You know, for an eleven-year-old, you’ve got a sharp tongue.”

“I live with my mother,” he replied. “I’ve had practice.”

That actually made her laugh, a real one this time, not her usual smug chuckle. “Alright, fair point, kid.”

“Vice Guildmaster,” he corrected, though his tone was mild.

“Sure thing, Vice Guildmaster,” she said with mock formality, still smiling. “Just don’t pretend you’re not secretly impressed.”

Ludger crossed his arms, pretending to think. “Impressed that you’re still alive after dressing like that in Lionfang? Definitely.”

Kaela grinned, flipping her hair back. “Then I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Ludger only sighed, muttering, “This town’s going to give me a headache…”

Kaela just laughed again, clearly satisfied to have gotten a reaction out of him at all.

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