An hour passed. Then another stretch of waterlogged corridors, shattered constructs, boiling currents, drifting debris. Ludger kept moving… But the rhythm was breaking.

Rage Control burned hot inside him, a compressed furnace that sharpened his instincts and drove his body far past its natural limits. It made him faster. Stronger. More violent. More decisive.

It also gnawed at his focus.

Even when he deactivated it between fights, the afterburn lingered. His heartbeat stayed too fast. His thoughts ran too sharp, cutting past caution. His muscles twitched under his skin as if they were trying to move before his mind gave the order.

By the third time it happened, Viola saw it clearly.

His right arm spasmed strangely as he braced against the stone floor, muscle shifting in the wrong direction, fibers sliding unnaturally beneath the skin. Not a broken bone. A displaced muscle.

His biceps had partially torn free from its anchor and reattached under pressure, held in place only by his will and healing magic.

Ludger barely reacted. He was already stepping forward again. Viola grabbed his shoulder. Hard. He turned, eyes still glowing faintly red, breath steaming in the cold water.

“What?” he wanted to ask.

She pointed at his arm. Then upward. Surface. Now.

Luna had already noticed. She moved in close, ready to support him if his body decided to fail all at once. Ludger stared at them for a second. Then the haze cleared just enough for him to register the tension in their faces. 

They kicked upward together.

The water parted as Wind Overdrive carried them into the narrow air pocket beneath the ceiling. They broke the surface in a rush of steam and mist, climbing onto a narrow stone ledge carved into the wall.

Ludger leaned forward, hands braced on his knees.

His skin was flushed dark red. Veins stood out across his arms and neck. Heat rolled off him in visible waves.

Viola planted her hands on her hips. “You’re breaking yourself.”

“I’m managing it,” Ludger replied.

“Your muscle just tried to escape your arm.”

He flexed experimentally. The displaced fibers snapped back into alignment with a wet, unpleasant sound.

“…Temporary,” he said.

Luna crossed her arms. “Rage Flow is eating your body. You can’t keep chaining it like this underwater.”

Ludger straightened slowly.

“I know.”

The problem wasn’t power. It was sustainability. Rage Flow turned him into a weapon, but weapons overheated. Cracked. Failed. And in a place like this, failure meant drowning. He looked back down at the clear water, where the labyrinth waited.

“We finish the zone fast,” he said. “Then I stop using it.”

Viola studied him for a long moment.

“You don’t get to decide that alone.”

He met her gaze.

“…Noted.”

The air pocket echoed with distant currents and shifting stone.

Somewhere below, something massive moved.

And for the first time since entering the third section, Ludger allowed himself a full breath before diving back into the depths.

“The real difficulty here is the environment,” Luna said. “Underwater battles. Limited footing. Restricted movement. Three-dimensional attack patterns.”

She glanced back at Ludger.

“The enemies are stronger, but they’re not that numerous. If Ironhand ever drains this section, it’ll probably be on the same difficulty level as the second one. We should have done that, even if it cost us some time, it would decrease the water levels as we proceeded.”

Ludger wiped condensation from his brow and straightened.

“I want to believe that,” he said. “But I don’t think it’s that simple.”

Luna tilted her head slightly.

“The runic golems are adapting,” Ludger continued. “They’re changing how they engage me. New formations. Different opening patterns. Coordinated pressure.”

He looked back toward the flooded corridor.

“They aren’t just reacting. They’re learning.”

Viola frowned. “Labyrinth monsters don’t learn. It isn’t like their minds are connected.”

“These ones are,” Ludger replied.

He rolled his shoulders, feeling the strain still humming in his muscles.

“Which means draining the water won’t make this section easier,” he said. “It’ll just change how they fight.”

The water below shifted again, as if something large had turned over in its sleep.

“And if they’re already improving against us,” Ludger added quietly, “then the next ones won’t make the same mistakes.”

Silence settled over the area.

“Then we’d better stay ahead of the curve.”

Ludger nodded once and sank back into the water. This time, he didn’t ignite Rage Flow immediately.

Earth Overdrive kept his weight anchored to the labyrinth floor. Every kick sent a dull shock through his legs, and every movement tugged at muscles that were already screaming in protest.

Cramps pulsed through his shoulders. His forearms ached where frozen impacts had rattled bone and tendon. His back felt like someone had driven iron rods through it and forgotten to pull them out.

He could still fight… But he couldn’t fight recklessly anymore.

Rage Flow would solve the problem in the short term, and break him in the long one.

So he swam forward slowly, deliberately, forcing his breathing to steady while his mind worked. The golems were adapting.

They were changing patterns. Adjusting formations. Using terrain and water pressure to their advantage. Which meant brute force alone wouldn’t be enough for long. Then the water ahead distorted.

A new runic golem emerged from the dark, propulsion runes pulsing in a steady rhythm as it closed in. This one held back its charge, maintaining distance, four arms unfolding into a defensive posture with twin spears angled forward like a moving barricade.

It was waiting. Testing. Ludger felt a spark of inspiration ignite in the back of his mind. Instead of charging, he raised one hand. Mana condensed around his palm. He fired.

A bolt of compressed energy streaked through the water and slammed into the golem’s crossed spears. The construct barely reacted, runes flaring as it absorbed the impact.

Then Ludger fired again. And again. Short bursts. Fast cadence. Low-cost bolts meant to provoke, not overwhelm. The golem adjusted its stance, angling its spears to deflect the shots more efficiently. Its internal logic marked the attack as trivial.

At first… But with each impact, frost crept across the weapon shafts. Not all at once. Not explosively. Just a thin layer at a time. Microfractures formed along the runic channels. Mana circulation through the spears began to stutter as Freezing residue accumulated with every block.

The golem didn’t notice. It kept advancing, confident behind its shield of reinforced alloy. Until one of the spears twitched. Just a little. Its stabilization rune flickered. Ludger’s eyes narrowed. He fired another bolt. The impact hit the same spot as before. Ice surged.

The spear’s surface crystallized, the metal turning brittle under the layered cold.

The golem finally reacted, pulling its weapons back to reassess. Too late. Ludger leaned forward… And for the first time since entering the third section, he smiled.

Not because the fight was easy. But because he’d found a way to break them without breaking himself.

Ludger didn’t give the construct time to recover. He lifted both hands and fired.

Not single bolts this time, but a spread. Three. Then five. Then seven compressed streaks of mana ripping through the water in a converging pattern. The projectiles hammered into the golem’s arms and spears from multiple angles, striking the same sections again and again.

The water around the weapons flash-froze. Runes flickered. Mana circulation stuttered.

Ice crawled across the alloy like living crystal, sealing joints, locking rotational segments, and turning reinforced runic metal into brittle stone. One spear tried to retract. It seized halfway. Another arm attempted to realign its firing barrel and failed when frost locked the internal rails in place.

The golem halted mid-motion. Stuck. Then Ludger shifted his aim. The next volley hit the torso.

Bolts slammed into the chest plating, each impact layering more cold into the core housing. Frost raced along the seams, crawling into the gaps between plates, creeping along the mana veins that pulsed beneath the surface.

The core flared. Then dimmed. The construct tried to engage its propulsion runes. Nothing happened. The water around it stilled. It was frozen in place. Ludger clenched his fist. Earth surged.

A sphere of compacted earth formed in front of him, dense enough that even the water bent around it. He spun it, feeding wind into the rotation, accelerating it faster and faster until the current around him twisted into a vortex.

The water began to spiral.

A cyclone formed in the corridor, dragging debris, bubbles, and broken fragments into its pull. The frozen golem strained against the suction, armor groaning as the current tried to tear it loose.

Ludger took a breath. Then fired. The earth sphere shot forward like a siege round.

It tore through the water, punching a hollow tunnel through the spinning water before slamming into the golem’s chest with catastrophic force. The frozen plating shattered. The core ruptured. The construct’s torso exploded outward in a storm of stone, ice, and broken runes.

The remains scattered through the vortex. The cyclone collapsed. Silence returned. Viola and Luna hovered behind him, stunned.

“That much mana…” Viola thought. “Is he going to be okay?”

Luna frowned. “That output should have spiked his circulation—”

Then they noticed something wrong. Ludger wasn’t moving.

He floated in the water, arms lowered, body perfectly still. No bubbles escaped his lips. His eyes were open, but unfocused, staring at nothing and everything at once.

Not unconscious. Not frozen.

Just… elsewhere.

Mana rippled around him in faint waves, reacting to something internal rather than external.

Viola swam closer. “Ludger?”

No response. For a moment, it looked like the labyrinth itself was holding its breath. Then the water around him shifted… And something inside him finished clicking into place.

Ludger’s fingers twitched. Slowly at first. Then with purpose. He raised one hand and began writing in the water. Not with light. Not with glowing lines. The rune formed as a distortion, pressure folding into shape, mana compressing into strokes that only someone with deep perception could even recognize as symbols.

Viola stared.

“…What is that?” 

Ludger finished the last stroke and held his palm open. The rune hovered in front of him for a heartbeat. Then it folded inward… And sank into his chest.

The mana around him rippled once. Then settled. Ludger blinked. Once. Twice.

Bubbles escaped his lips as he rolled his shoulders and flexed his hands like nothing unusual had happened. The stiffness in his posture was gone. The faint tremor in his muscles vanished. The red flush in his skin faded to a normal tone.

He kicked off the floor and resumed moving forward. Like the last minute had never happened.

Ludger didn’t explain. He was already scanning the corridor ahead, Seismic Sense unfolding again, Wind Overdrive stabilizing his movement. Luna, however, had stopped. She watched him closely. Really watched him. His posture was different.

Before, his movements had been powerful but heavy, every motion loaded with force, every shift carrying momentum that needed to be controlled. Now his body moved like a blade sliding through water. No wasted motion. No excess tension. No micro-delays between thought and action.

His mana circulation had smoothed and improved. His breathing had stabilized. Even the faint tremor in his fingers was gone.

Whatever that rune had been… It had done something.

Luna narrowed her eyes.

Ludger didn’t slow.

But Luna kept watching him, unsettled.

Because she had seen assassins rewrite their instincts.

She had seen masters overwrite their limits.

And what Ludger had just done looked uncomfortably close to rewriting his own body mid-combat.

In the middle of a labyrinth. Underwater.

While fighting monsters designed to kill siege crews.

And then walking it off like it was routine.

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