Raukor looked up first, ears flattening slightly. “These books,” he said without preamble, “aren’t sold by ordinary merchants.”

Ludger stopped beside the anvil. “Meaning?”

“Meaning Lucius didn’t stumble across them,” Raukor replied. “He either contacted the black market, an underworld guild…”

He glanced briefly at Luna.

“—or he got them from someone he really shouldn’t have trusted.”

Luna folded her arms. “I checked the manor’s records. No official purchases. Nothing that would explain these.”

Raukor picked up one of the books carefully, as if it might bite. “Some of these are restricted by doctrine. A few…” He grimaced. “A few aren’t supposed to exist at all.”

He set it down and looked at Ludger.

“Which means Lucius didn’t just get curious,” Raukor said. “He crossed a line. And someone helped him do it.”

The forge crackled beside them. The sound felt louder now. Because whatever Lucius had touched… it had reached out first. Luna set the pack down beside the anvil and pulled out the thinner bundle. Lucius’ notes.

They weren’t bound. Just loose pages, some neatly stacked, others folded and refolded until the creases had gone soft. The ink varied, some lines crisp and confident, others faint, as if written late at night with a tired hand.

She skimmed the first page, then frowned.

“…This is strange,” she murmured.

Raukor leaned closer. Ludger said nothing. Luna began to read aloud.

Runic golems are consistently categorized as artificial constructs. This classification is incorrect, or at least incomplete.

She turned the page.

Their cores are described as “mana cores,” yet dissection records show structural parity with organic hearts. Chambers. Valves. Rhythmic contraction.

Her brow furrowed.

The energy flow is not circular like most mana devices. It pulses. Expands and contracts. Just like blood.

She paused, eyes flicking up briefly before continuing.

The internal channels, called conduits in most texts, are closer to veins than circuits. They branch. They narrow. They respond to pressure.

Ludger’s gaze sharpened. Raukor’s ears twitched. Luna swallowed and kept reading.

This is not efficient design. It is imitative.

She turned another page.

Conclusion: runic golems were not designed as tools. They were designed to resemble something alive.

The forge crackled. Luna’s voice lowered slightly.

I am increasingly certain that runic golems are not creations of the labyrinth.

That made her stop. “What?” she muttered, then reread the line aloud.

The labyrinths produce monsters, trials, aberrations, but not replicas. It mutates. It exaggerates. It does not imitate humans with this level of precision.

She flipped to the next page, fingers tense.

Runic inscriptions do not originate from labyrinth syntax. The grammar is wrong. The logic is reversed.

Raukor let out a low breath. Luna continued.

These constructs come from the other side.

The words sat heavily between them. She turned the page again, faster now.

If that is true, then runic golems are not prototypes.

Her hand trembled slightly.

They are descendants.

Silence followed. Luna took a breath and read the final lines on the page.

Whatever exists beyond the boundary understands us. Our bodies. Our systems. Our dependence on rhythm and flow.

She looked up at Ludger.

If I can reach beyond it, if I can study what lies on the other side, then the knowledge gained would eclipse everything available within the Empire.

She hesitated, then read the last sentence softly.

I believe I could learn far more there than here.

No one spoke for several seconds. The implication was clear. Lucius hadn’t just been theorizing. He’d been looking past the world.

And if he was right… Then the labyrinth wasn’t the source. It was the door.

Ludger broke the silence.

“Then it seems Lucius headed for the runic golems labyrinth,” he said calmly.

Raukor’s ears flattened. Luna’s eyes narrowed.

“He was competent,” Ludger continued. “A skilled magic warrior. Good fundamentals.”

He shook his head once.

“But not strong enough to clear that labyrinth alone. Not all of it.”

Raukor grunted. “That place doesn’t forgive mistakes.”

“No,” Ludger agreed. “And it doesn’t scale kindly either.”

He looked back at the notes. “The only way he could’ve pushed deep enough to reach anything resembling an ‘other side’ is if he went in heavily armed.”

“And stocked,” Raukor added.

“Insanely stocked,” Ludger corrected. “Mana potions. Recovery draughts. Probably support items too.”

Luna frowned. “Then why not use Ironhand?” she asked. “They’ve got ships. Delvers. Resources. If he needed access…”

“He didn’t want questions asked,” Ludger said immediately.

She blinked.

“He didn’t want to explain,” Ludger went on. “Not what he was planning. Not what he was thinking. Not why he believed it mattered.”

Luna’s gaze softened slightly.

“Once you start talking about life and death,” Ludger said, “about crossing boundaries and learning from whatever’s beyond them, people stop helping. Or they start asking the wrong questions.”

Raukor nodded slowly. “And once you involve a guild, nothing stays quiet.”

“Exactly,” Ludger said. “Ironhand would want contracts. They can’t operate within the empire boundaries without giving proper answers.”

He glanced at the notes again. “Lucius needed solitude. Secrecy. The freedom to fail without anyone knowing.”

Luna exhaled.

“So he went alone,” she said.

“Yes,” Ludger replied. “Or as close to alone as he could manage.”

The conclusion settled heavily.Lucius hadn’t been dragged screaming into the dark. He’d walked toward it, armed, prepared, and convinced that the answers he wanted were worth the risk.

Whether that conviction had been his own… or carefully planted… was a question they still hadn’t answered.

“If Lucius was willing to take that risk,” Ludger said quietly, “to clear that labyrinth alone, without even trusting Rathen, then there’s a good chance he was already dead inside before he stepped foot in it.”

Luna’s jaw tightened.

“People don’t cut off their last lifeline unless something’s already broken,” Ludger continued. “Fear. Obsession. Or resignation.”

Raukor didn’t argue. But Ludger didn’t stop there.

“Still,” he added, after a pause, “it’s not that simple.”

They both looked at him.

“Lucius was the one who gave me the earth gloves,” Ludger said. “The ones that halve the mana cost of earth magic. And the amulet that doubles mana regeneration.”

Luna blinked. Raukor’s ears twitched.

“He didn’t hand those out casually,” Ludger went on. “He understood systems. Synergies. Long-term value.”

And more than that…

“For almost two years, he was one of the people overseeing the runic golems labyrinth,” Ludger said. “Logistics. Delver reports. Casualty patterns.”

He folded his arms.

“That means he should’ve had strategies. Not perfect ones, but enough to push deeper than most. Enough to survive longer than expected.”

Raukor grunted. “Even full parties struggle there.”

“I know,” Ludger replied. “Which is why this doesn’t add up.”

He turned his gaze toward the sea, thoughts aligning into something uncomfortable.

“The Ironhand Syndicate guards that labyrinth constantly,” he said. “Not loosely. Not occasionally. Constantly.”

Luna frowned. “You’re saying…”

“Even if Lucius crossed the bridge alone,” Ludger finished, “even if he entered without assistance, the chances of him doing so without being noticed are low.”

Too low. Someone would’ve seen him. Logged him. Stopped him. Or at least remembered him. Yet there were no reports. No rumors. No whispers. Ludger exhaled slowly.

“Too many things don’t line up,” he said. “Too many assumptions contradict each other.”

Lucius was cautious… but acted recklessly.

Prepared… but didn’t bring allies.

Capable, but vanished without a trace.

And the labyrinth, of all places, was guarded too well for a lone noble to simply disappear inside unnoticed. Ludger’s eyes hardened.

“This situation doesn’t make sense,” he said.

Which meant… Someone else was still touching the board. Raukor broke the silence with a low grunt.

“A rich noble with no hesitation about spending money,” he said, “can buy a lot of things people pretend don’t exist.”

Ludger didn’t interrupt.

“Enchanted cloaks that blur presence. Charms that dampen mana signatures. Consumables that fool basic detection,” Raukor continued. “Enough to slip past guards if they’re relying on routine checks.”

“And the golems?” Luna asked.

Raukor shrugged. “Escaping monster detection inside a labyrinth isn’t impossible. Hard. Expensive. Dangerous. But not impossible. Especially if you already know their patrol logic.”

Ludger’s gaze sharpened.

“And if he reached the other side?” he asked.

Raukor’s jaw tightened.

“Then the chances of finding him drop to almost zero,” he said. “Once you cross far enough… Even fate-based divinations get unreliable.”

He stared out toward the darkening horizon, eyes unfocused. Ludger watched him for a second longer than necessary.

“You talk like you’ve seen it before,” he said.

Raukor didn’t answer. The forge crackled softly behind them, but Raukor wasn’t looking at it anymore. His gaze stayed fixed on the distance, somewhere far past the sea, far past the shore.

Silent. Not evasive. Remembering.

It looked like someone he knew had vanished the same way.

And whatever had taken them… or whatever they had chosen to step into… had never given them back.

Ludger straightened. The decision had already settled in his mind; saying it out loud was just the final step.

“I’ll check the runic golems labyrinth,” he said calmly. “I’ll try to reach the end before the ship is ready.”

Raukor didn’t react immediately. Luna did.

“You’re talking like you’re going alone,” she said, eyes narrowing.

“I am.”

That answer landed heavier than any dramatic declaration.

Luna crossed her arms. “That’s reckless, even for you. Why not at least talk to Rathen? He has authority here. Resources. If you explain…”

“There’s a chance that explaining makes this worse,” Ludger cut in, not sharply, but decisively.

She frowned. “Explain.”

Ludger didn’t rush it.

“There are too many coincidences,” he said. “Lucius entering the labyrinth alone. No witnesses. No records. No rumors. No resistance.”

Raukor’s ears twitched.

“The Ironhand Syndicate guards that place constantly,” Ludger continued. “Which means one of two things happened.”

He raised one finger.

“Either Lucius used extremely expensive, specialized tools to bypass everything, cross half of his territory and the bridge without being detected, and did so perfectly.”

A second finger.

“Or someone made sure he could.”

Luna went still.

“If someone inside Ironhand is compromised,” Ludger said, “then involving Rathen openly risks tipping them off. Even if Rathen himself is clean, and I believe he is, the guild structure around him might not be.”

Raukor nodded slowly.

“Once suspicion enters a guild,” Ludger went on, “every order, every inquiry, every delay gets filtered. Information leaks without anyone meaning it to.”

Luna’s jaw tightened. “And you think going alone avoids that.”

“Yes,” Ludger said simply. She searched his face. “And if something happens to you?”

Ludger met her gaze evenly.

“Then it happens quietly,” he said. “Which is exactly what whoever’s pulling these strings doesn’t want. Well, I don’t have money to buy a lot of gear, but I can do a lot of things.”

That gave her pause.

“…Fine,” Luna said at last. “I’ll keep gathering information. Quietly. And I’ll stay close to Viola.”

“I know,” Ludger replied.

The wind shifted, carrying the sound of the waves and distant training shouts from the camp.

“I won’t take unnecessary risks,” Ludger added. “But I won’t wait either.”

Because if Lucius had reached the other side… or was still trying to… then time was the one resource he couldn’t afford to waste.

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