Two hours later, just as Ludger had managed to stop his legs from trembling every ten seconds, another pair of footsteps echoed down the stairway. These were different, lighter, rushed, and distinctly exhausted. Dalan and Linne emerged into the dim torchlight, both of them looking like they hadn’t slept since the night of the blast.

Dalan’s coat was half-buttoned, his hair sticking up like he’d lost a fight with a wind tunnel. Linne’s braid was frayed, ink marks still staining her fingers from whatever frantic reports she’d been writing. Despite their appearance, the moment they spotted Ludger standing, wobbly, stiff, but undeniably upright, they both nodded as if this was the outcome they had expected all along.

Linne raised an eyebrow. “You’re awake. Figures.”

Dalan exhaled through his nose. “You look like a corpse that got back up out of spite.”

Ludger shrugged, or tried to. It came out more like a painful twitch. “Your suit is gone,” he said bluntly. “Verk blew it apart with a mana blast. I’ll pay you back for the—”

Both researchers immediately waved their hands in dismissal, the exact same gesture despite not looking at each other.

“We’re not talking about the suit,” Dalan said.

“At least not right now,” Linne added quickly. “There are more important things.”

Ludger stared. “…More important than your custom prototype exploding?”

Dalan rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Ludger, an entire manor is missing.”

Linne jumped in before he could answer. “Verk disappeared after the blast. No corpse, no trace, nothing. But from the direction he fled, it looks like he’s headed toward the Empire. Either running for help, or hiding among the nobles who backed him.”

The temperature in the room dipped a little, but maybe that was just Ludger’s mood.

“And the city?” he asked quietly.

“We’re… trying to manage it,” Linne said with a sigh. “The rumors are a mess. Some people think a dungeon core detonated. Others think someone summoned a forbidden elemental. There’s even a group insisting Verk angered a sky spirit.” She rolled her eyes. “Ridiculous, but honestly? We’ll take it.”

Dalan crossed his arms. “We’re nudging the narrative toward the truth we want people to believe, that the destruction was caused by Verk’s armor. Overloaded, unstable, and incredibly dangerous. A handful of witnesses saw him flying overhead before the explosions began. Others saw his armor detonating mid-air.”

Linne nodded. “Those sightings are helping us. Anyone who tries to argue gets shut down by someone who saw a chunk of his gauntlet crash into their roof. We don’t even have to push that much.”

Ludger shifted uncomfortably. “And rumors about… me?”

Dalan and Linne exchanged a brief look before Linne answered.

“We aren’t shaping those,” she said firmly. “If we interfere too directly, it’ll look suspicious. Right now, you’re just a nameless shadow in the chaos. Something people think they saw, but can’t confirm.”

Dalan shrugged. “People are too busy panicking about Verk blowing himself up to ask about a second combatant.”

Linne crossed her arms. “For now, it’s better that way.”

Ludger nodded slowly, tension easing just a fraction from his shoulders. The last thing he needed was his face spreading across Coria alongside a crater the size of a town square. For a moment, the room was quiet except for the crackle of torches and the distant murmur of prisoners deeper in the dungeon.

Dalan studied him with tired eyes. “So. You fought Verk… survived a mana blast… mauled his armor… and now he’s somewhere in the Empire.”

Linne tilted her head thoughtfully. “Ludger… whatever you’re planning next, just remember, Verk isn’t done. And neither is whoever working with him.”

Ludger exhaled, the ache in his ribs pulsing.

“Yeah,” he said. “I figured.”

Dalan and Linne didn’t last much longer.

The moment their brains finished unloading information, both of them swayed on their feet in perfect synchronization, like two scholars trying (and failing) to pretend they weren’t seconds from collapsing. Dalan’s eyelids drooped mid-sentence. Linne blinked too slowly, fighting sleep with sheer stubbornness.

Maurien finally stepped forward and placed a hand on each of their shoulders.

“Go,” he said gently. “You’re of no use like this.”

Neither protested.

They nodded at Ludger, exhausted, relieved, and half-asleep already, before dragging themselves back toward the stairway. Their footsteps faded quickly, and one of them yawned loudly enough to echo through the whole prison before they vanished upstairs.

Once they were gone, Ludger eased himself back onto the stone table and resumed healing. The mana inside him was steadier now, but the underlying exhaustion hadn’t faded. The wounds were mostly closed, yes, but the real damage wasn’t physical cuts or burn, it was the stress that the mana blast had carved into his body.

His circuits still felt swollen. His bones still felt heavy. His muscles trembled with aftershocks he couldn’t fully suppress. He let Healing Touch wash through him again, but it did little for the deep fatigue nesting under his skin. Maurien’s voice broke the silence.

“I saw glimpses of the fight,” he said, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. His eyes were calm, but his tone carried a steel edge. “If I had known Verk possessed armor of that caliber… I never would’ve allowed you to face him alone. Even with the disguise, even with the plan. That kind of power makes anonymity meaningless.”

Ludger frowned. “You would’ve intervened. And our covers would be gone.”

Maurien nodded, unashamed. “Better exposed than dead.”

Kaela, who had been sharpening a blade in the corner, snorted loudly.

“Aw, look at that,” she said with a teasing grin. “Maurien admitting he cares. Should we write that down? Put it on a plaque?”

Maurien sighed. “Kaela.”

“What? I’m just saying.” She pointed the blade at Ludger with smug amusement. “You should’ve seen your face when we found you. You looked like burnt dough someone threw off a rooftop.”

Ludger groaned and lay back again. “Thanks. I feel much better now.”

Kaela grinned wider. “Anytime.”

Maurien shook his head, but the faint smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. Ludger just shut his eyes and kept healing, trying to ignore the ache, the fatigue, and Kaela’s relentless commentary. At least he wasn’t dead. For now, that was enough.

Maurien waited until Ludger’s breathing evened out again, steady enough to speak, but still strained from the lingering ache. He pushed off the wall and stepped closer, the faint rustle of his long coat echoing through the dungeon chamber. His voice, when he spoke, dropped into that calm, razor-sharp tone Ludger had come to recognize as strategic mode.

“We can’t stay here much longer,” Maurien began. “Coria is going to explode with questions once the shock wears off. The Council will start demanding answers, the military will begin investigations, and every information broker within ten cities will try to figure out who attacked Verk. We need to leave without being found. Fortunately, the others leaving earlier made it look like Lionsguard wasn’t around.”

He paused, making sure Ludger was following.

“The longer we remain in Velis territory, the more likely someone connects threads we don’t want connected. Despite the others, this is the best option.”

Ludger nodded stiffly. “We leave soon then.”

Maurien continued, expression turning more serious. “There’s more. We need to return to the Empire, not for safety, but because we must confront what comes next. Verk’s disappearance will force his allies to move. They’ll panic. They’ll try to erase their own traces, silence informants, destroy evidence, and, most importantly, they will attempt to reorganize.”

He folded his arms.

“And at the center of all of that… is House Roderick.”

Kaela stopped sharpening her blade, her eyes narrowing slightly.

Maurien went on. “They supported Verk. Made business with him. Supplied him. They were the ones pushing the mushroom trade and destabilizing the empire. With Verk exposed or missing, the Rodericks will assume they’re next. They’ll either bury themselves deeper or prepare to strike first.”

Ludger felt the weight of the words settle heavily across his chest. Even through the pain, he understood the implication. If they gave the Rodericks even a week to recover, the conspiracy could vanish all over again, slipping into shadow, impossible to track.

Maurien looked him directly in the eyes. “We must attack before they can reorganize. We must gather information, track Verk’s trail into the Empire, and uncover everything the Rodericks hid. If they realize how close we are to exposing their operations, they’ll prepare for war.”

Ludger clenched his jaw. The pain in his body was a constant drumbeat, but it only sharpened his resolve.

“I know,” he said quietly. “I want to finish this before they have time to defend themselves. Before they set up another scheme. Before they hurt anyone else.”

Maurien nodded toward him, approving. “Good. Because whether you like it or not, we are the next targets. When Verk realizes you survived, he will come for us. And when the Rodericks realize we’ve identified them…” He exhaled slowly. “They’ll come for all of us. Even with all of our caution, it won’t be impossible to connect the dots to the lionsguard. Even if they don’t find clues, they can manufacture evidence.”

Kaela smirked, twirling her blade between her fingers. “Let them come. I haven’t had fun in days.”

Maurien ignored her theatrics. His gaze remained on Ludger.

“We leave soon. Rest while you can.”

Ludger didn’t need convincing. He wasn’t healed, he wasn’t ready, but he wasn’t stopping. Not now. Not when the enemy was wounded and exposed. Not when he finally had a trail to follow. He would finish this. Before they could ever prepare.

They waited until midnight. The prison fell silent as the hours passed, torches burning low, wind whispering through the narrow vents high above. The fog rolling in from the outer streets thickened enough to swallow the moonlight, turning the underground hall into a dim, muted cavern.

By the time the clock tower above Coria struck twelve, its chime barely audible through layers of stone, Dalan and Linne had returned, looking significantly more awake than before. Not rested, exactly, but functional, their exhaustion tempered by resolve.

Dalan straightened his coat as he approached. “We wanted to see you off,” he said. “And to tell you we’ll keep sending information as it comes. The city’s in turmoil… it’s only going to get messier.”

Linne crossed her arms, her expression shifting to something between frustration and disbelief. “It’s hard to imagine Verk’s reputation surviving this. Even with him gone, even with the evidence destroyed,” she gestured vaguely upward, toward where the manor once stood, “everyone saw the explosions. They saw parts of his armor falling from the sky. He erased his tracks, but in the most suspicious way possible.”

Kaela smirked, blades already strapped to her sides. “He basically announced he was guilty.”

Dalan nodded grimly. “He destroyed every scrap of evidence… but he must have allies nearby. People in the city, or in the League, who still hold pieces of the bigger plot. This isn’t over just because he ran.”

Linne added more quietly, “If he was willing to damage Coria this badly just to hide his crimes, then we need to work harder. Push deeper. Take risks we avoided before.” Her jaw tightened. “The League won’t clean this up on its own.”

Ludger dipped his head in acknowledgment. “I’ll keep you updated too. Anything we find in the Empire, anything tied to Verk, you’ll know.”

Dalan gave him a firm nod. “Good. And Ludger… try not to almost die again.”

Kaela scoffed. “Don’t force promises he can’t keep.”

Maurien simply motioned toward the exit. “Let’s move.”

After brief farewells, the three of them ascended the narrow staircase and slipped out into Coria’s midnight air. The city was shrouded in fog thick enough to mask shapes and smear the lantern lights into blurry halos. The streets were nearly empty, most civilians still afraid to leave their homes after the explosions.

Their footsteps were quiet on the stone as they moved. Dark streets. Cold air. Fog curling between buildings like drifting ghosts. Coria was wounded, shaken, and suffocating under confusion and fear. It made the perfect cover for three shadows slipping across the district.

Ludger pulled what remained of his cloak tighter around himself. Still, his green scarf did most of the job. Kaela twirled a dagger idly, eyes scanning every alleyway. Maurien walked ahead, calm and focused, guiding their route.

Without looking back, without slowing, they disappeared into the mist,  leaving Coria behind, and chasing the trail of a fugitive noble, a shattered conspiracy, and the war that was coming next.

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