For a long heartbeat, no one moved.

Then the referee found his voice.

He stared down the shattered corridor, then back at Ludger, broken arm, bloodied face, still standing. He swallowed hard, raised his arm, and shouted with everything he had.

“THE MATCH IS OVER!”

The words echoed, bounced, and then vanished under the explosion of noise that followed.

The narrator didn’t even try to keep his composure.

“IT’S OVER! IT’S OVER!” he screamed, voice cracking with exhilaration. “AFTER THREE UNBELIEVABLE BATTLES, AFTER STRATEGY, AFTER CONTROL, AFTER RAW, UNSTOPPABLE POWER, LUDGER WINS AGAIN!”

The arena erupted.

People leapt to their feet, shouting, screaming, pounding railings. Some laughed hysterically. Others just stared, mouths open, trying to process what they’d just witnessed. The roar spilled out of the arena, racing through the capital streets as if the city itself were cheering.

Healers rushed forward. Guards shouted orders. Officials scrambled.

Ludger ignored all of it.

He turned away from the ruined corridor and began walking toward the exit, steps steady despite the pain screaming through his body. His broken arm hung uselessly at his side, earth-aspected mana barely holding things together, but he didn’t slow.

Didn’t look back. Didn’t acknowledge the cheers calling his name.

Up in the stands, Viola let out a long sigh, resting her elbows on the railing.

“He could’ve at least raised one arm,” she muttered. “Or smiled a little.”

Arslan chuckled, low and tired, eyes never leaving his son’s retreating figure.

“No,” he said. “If he tried to smile right now, he’d just end up smirking.”

Viola snorted.

“And that would creep everyone out,” Arslan finished, shaking his head.

Below them, Ludger disappeared through the gate, the roar of the arena crashing behind him.

The capital would remember this day. But Ludger? He was already thinking about what came next.

Arslan noticed it as Ludger disappeared into the shadowed corridor.

Elaine hadn’t moved.

She stood with her hands resting lightly on the railing, eyes fixed on the place where her son had vanished, expression unreadable. At her sides, the twins bounced on their feet, faces flushed with excitement as they leaned over the edge.

“Ludger!” Elle called, cupping her hands clumsily.

“Luuudger!” Arash echoed, laughing as he mimicked the cheering adults around them.

They copied the crowd without understanding it, voices bright and proud, waving their arms at nothing in particular.

Elaine didn’t join them.

Arslan stepped closer, lowering his voice. “What’s wrong?”

She took a moment before answering.

“I know he’s strong,” she said quietly. “I see it. Everyone sees it.” Her fingers curled slightly against the stone. “I understand why he fights like that. I even understand why he has to.”

She swallowed.

“But every time he walks away from something like this…” Her gaze didn’t waver from the corridor. “I still see the same child. The one who fit in my arms. The one who used to fall asleep the moment I stopped rocking him.”

The twins tugged at her sleeves, still chanting his name, still smiling.

Elaine smiled down at them for a second, soft, automatic, then looked back toward the corridor.

“He’s become something incredible,” she continued, voice steady but tight. “And I’m proud of him. I really am.”

Her breath trembled, just barely.

“I just don’t know how to accept that the world doesn’t see my baby anymore.”

Arslan didn’t answer right away.

He rested a hand on her shoulder, firm and warm. “Neither do I,” he admitted quietly.

They stood there together as the crowd roared on, the twins still calling out proudly, and the corridor swallowed Ludger completely.

Strong or not… To them, he was still their child.

Ludger half-expected to see Rufas in the waiting room.

He’d felt the man’s presence during the fight, steady, watchful, familiar in the way experienced fighters were when they paid attention. But the chamber was empty now. No Imperial Guard captain leaning against a wall. No crossed arms. No unreadable stare.

Looks like he already left.

Showing off the skill Rufas had taught him like that, taking it to a level that rattled the arena and cracked walls, stirred a complicated mix of thoughts. Pride, maybe. Amusement. Possibly regret.

Teaching Ludger was probably starting to feel like handing lasers to a shark.

Ludger dismissed it just as quickly.

He sat down, braced his broken arm against his knee, and focused inward. Mana flowed, careful and precise, knitting bone back together piece by piece. Pain flared sharply, then dulled as structure realigned and fractures sealed. He took his time. Rushing healing always caused problems later.

By the time he stood again, the arm was functional, still sore, but stable.

Good enough.

He turned to leave the arena proper when he noticed someone waiting near the exit.

Kaela.

She leaned against the wall with her arms crossed, eyes bright, expression halfway between disbelief and excitement. “Those were some insane matches,” she said as he approached. “I don’t think the capital’s going to sleep tonight.”

Ludger stopped in front of her. “Did you hear what we said?” he asked quietly.

She tilted her head. “Hard to,” she admitted. “Between the hits, the noise, the barrier screaming…” She smiled faintly. “But I caught a few things.”

That made him pause.

Ludger lowered his voice.

“Gather information about him,” he said. “Everything you can. Where he came from. Who he’s connected to. And keep an eye on him.”

Kaela raised an eyebrow. “Assuming you didn’t kill him.”

Ludger looked at her.

She snorted softly. “Yeah. Thought so.”

They both knew. Someone who walked out of a collapsed wall and got launched halfway out of the arena didn’t die that easily. Not someone like that.

Kaela nodded once, the humor fading into professionalism. “I’ll see what shakes loose,” she said. “If he’s still breathing, he’ll surface.”

Then she turned and melted back into the corridors, already working.

Ludger stood there for a moment longer, alone again.

His thoughts drifted back to the drunkard, the tattoos, the aura, the gorilla-shaped manifestation, the way his fighting style broke rules instead of bending them. That wasn’t something born in the capital. It didn’t feel like Velis League refinement, nor the raw, spiritual force of the Primal Groves.

No.

That felt older. Farther.

From a land beyond maps Ludger had studied. Beyond trade routes and familiar politics. Somewhere distant enough that its fighters didn’t care how the capital did things, and dangerous enough that rumors from there were already brushing against imperial schemes.

To think his enemies were rattling people who lived that far away…

Ludger’s jaw tightened.

This wasn’t contained anymore. Not a border issue. Not a guild dispute. Not even an imperial maneuver limited to nearby powers.

The net was spreading… And if people like that drunkard were being stirred, sent, warned, or dragged into this mess, then resting wasn’t an option. Not now. Not when the echoes of this fight would travel farther than the arena ever could.

A couple of hours later, Ludger sat at a long table with everyone else, a plate of food in front of him that he was steadily working through.

He’d cleaned up properly this time. Blood washed away. Dust gone. Healing Touch had flowed through him as naturally as breathing, knitting torn muscle, sealing fractures, smoothing damage until only faint soreness remained. The worst of it was gone, but not all.

His body ached everywhere.

Not the sharp pain of injuries, but the deep, all-over soreness that came from microfractures, overstressed joints, and muscles pushed past sane limits. It was uncomfortable, constant, and entirely bearable. He’d endured worse without blinking.

What he couldn’t endure was the silence.

Elaine sat across from him, hands folded around her cup, eyes lowered to the table. She wasn’t angry. She wasn’t cold. She was just… quiet. Thoughtful in a way that pressed on his nerves far more than shouting ever could.

Ludger cleared his throat.

“So,” he said casually, spearing a piece of food, “I think I looked pretty cool out there.”

No response.

He continued anyway, glancing up with a faint, crooked smile. “Probably made me more popular with the girls of the capital than you ever were, Dad. I mean, arena-shaking brawls, mysterious aura, hard to compete with.”

Arslan choked on his drink.

“Ludger,” he hissed, wiping his mouth as a cold sweat broke out across his brow, “that is not—”

Viola snorted into her food.

The twins giggled, copying Ludger’s confident posture exaggeratedly.

Elaine finally sighed. It wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t frustrated. Just tired.

“You don’t have to worry so much about me,” she said quietly.

The table stilled.

She lifted her gaze to him then, eyes calm but heavy with unspoken thoughts. “I’m not angry. And I’m not upset with you.”

Ludger paused mid-bite.

“I just need some time,” she continued. “To sort out my feelings.”

She offered him a small, genuine smile. “That’s all.”

The tension drained from the table in a single breath.

Arslan slumped back in his chair, relief obvious. Viola relaxed. The twins went back to eating like nothing had happened.

Ludger nodded once, expression softening. “Okay.”

He didn’t push. Didn’t joke further. Didn’t prod.

Some things didn’t need fixing immediately.

He went back to his meal, aching body and all, content, for now, to just sit there with his family, letting the noise of cutlery and quiet conversation slowly fill the space Elaine’s silence had left behind.

While Elaine sat quietly, lost in her own thoughts about her eldest son, about how quickly he’d grown, how much of the world now rested on his shoulders, Ludger was thinking too.

Not about the food.

Not about the crowd.

Not even about the pain still echoing faintly through his body.

He was thinking about the capital.

This whole mess had been his idea. Accept the contest for the labyrinth. Step into the arena himself. End it cleanly without dragging Lionsguard into a prolonged political brawl. One decisive display. Two days, at most.

He hadn’t accounted for this level of rot.

Assassins. Probes. Deliberate attrition. Fighters sent not to win, but to measure and grind him down. Pride discarded the moment it became inconvenient.

If they tried to push it into a third day…

He exhaled slowly through his nose.

Something in him would snap.

Not explosively. Not publicly. But cleanly, decisively, in a way that wouldn’t be undone.

Even if he lost after another sequence of battles after being bled dry by layered strategies and exhaustion, it wouldn’t matter. The damage would already be done. The capital had seen enough. The names of the guilds involved were already tarnished, their methods laid bare in front of nobles, adventurers, and the public alike.

At that point, they could only blame themselves.

They had chosen this path. Chosen exposure. Chosen desperation over dignity.

Ludger cut another bite of food, chewing slowly, thoughtfully.

If they insisted on continuing, he’d stop playing along.

Not with more spectacle. Not with more restraint. With consequences.

And whether he stood at the end of it or not, the message would be clear… Some games only got played once.

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