They walked back through the twisting corridor, boots crunching over scattered shards of dull iron. The sounds of the battered adventurers faded behind them. Viola jogged a step to catch up with Ludger, her brows furrowed.

“Okay,” she hissed under her breath once they were out of earshot. “What was that back there? Calling us members of the Iron Vein Guild?”

Ludger didn’t even slow down. “Marketing,” he said dryly.

“Marketing?”

He glanced at her, eyes glinting with that sharp, scheming light. “I had the idea of reviving the guild—at least its name. Make people remember what it used to be, even if Gaius has no intention of reopening it. Fame travels fast in cities like this. One way or another, it’ll work in our favor.”

Viola blinked. “You’re serious.”

“Dead serious.” He stepped over a crack in the floor, his voice low and even. “If people start associating ‘Iron Vein’ with something competent again, Gaius will either feel indebted to us for restoring his name… or he’ll get annoyed enough to tell us to stop and finally teach us something just to get rid of us. Either way, we win.”

Viola stared at him for a moment, then let out a breathless laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Pragmatic,” Ludger corrected, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “This is my version of being magnanimous.”

Behind them, Luna’s voice came soft but cool. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

Ludger shrugged without looking back. “Most games worth playing are.”

Viola shook her head, still smiling despite herself. “You’re going to drive Gaius crazy.”

“That’s the plan,” Ludger said. “Crazy people teach faster, maybe not, but oh well…”

They moved on through the labyrinth’s dim light, the echo of their footsteps steady, Ludger already thinking three steps ahead.

As the corridor began to slope upward, Ludger slowed his pace until he was walking shoulder-to-shoulder with Luna. Viola was a few paces ahead, still humming under her breath after the fight.

Ludger tilted his head just enough for his words to reach only Luna. “Think you could do something about what I said back there? Make it sound natural. Not like a street vendor yelling ‘new guild, join now.’”

Luna’s eyes flicked to him, cool and unreadable. “That depends on what you want.”

“I want people to start whispering the name again,” Ludger said, voice low. “Enough to make it seem like Iron Vein’s moving. Competent. No posters, no speeches. Just… buzz.”

Luna looked back toward the shadows for a moment, then replied just as softly. “We have options. The simplest is to spread small rumors at taverns and supply stalls—stories of a team using the name who saved others in the labyrinth. Nothing dramatic. Just enough that the name starts to feel familiar again.”

She paused, considering. “Or we can approach old contacts quietly. A few merchants, a few runners. Slip the idea into their conversations so they repeat it without realizing. That’s slower but cleaner.”

She glanced at him from under her lashes. “Or I can hire a couple of cheap tongues—kids and errand boys who will swear up and down they’ve seen ‘Iron Vein’ operatives doing good work. That’s fastest, but the most obvious.”

Ludger smirked faintly. “And the least natural.”

“Exactly.”

He tapped a knuckle against his armguard, thinking. “I’ll let you pick the mix. Just keep it subtle. If it looks like a sales pitch, it’ll blow up in our faces.”

Luna gave a small nod, her expression smoothing back into its usual calm mask. “Understood. I’ll start tonight.”

Viola turned back over her shoulder, oblivious to the quiet plotting. “You two are whispering again. What’re you scheming this time?”

“Nothing,” Ludger said lightly, eyes still on Luna. “Just logistics.”

Luna’s mouth quirked the faintest bit as she walked on.

It took a few days.

The group trained in the labyrinth by day and returned to the guild at night, while Luna quietly set her web into motion across Meira. She slipped from tavern to tavern, dropping casual remarks at supply stalls, speaking to runners and errand boys with a few coins in her palm. Soon the name “Iron Vein” began to float through conversations again—soft at first, then a little louder.

Gaius didn’t notice right away. He spent most of his time in the same dusty hall, half-dozing with a bottle at his side. But on the fourth day, when he finally dragged himself to one of the market lanes for another refill, he felt it.

People were looking at him. Not everyone—just enough to be noticeable. A couple of miners paused in mid-conversation when he passed. A merchant behind a cart of ore straightened a little. Two adventurers nudged each other and murmured as his shadow fell across them.

It was a look he hadn’t seen in years. Not the pity or dismissal he’d grown used to, but a flicker of recognition. Respect, even. Like the glances he used to draw back when the Iron Vein name still meant something.

He stopped in front of the liquor stall, a bottle already in his hand, and frowned. Most people had forgotten me. Forgotten the guild. So why…

The merchant offered him a wary smile, eyes darting to the red crest still faintly stitched on his tattered sleeve. “Heard Iron Vein’s moving again,” the man said. “You got something brewing, Guildmaster?”

Gaius blinked, a slow, incredulous expression creeping across his face. Then he snorted softly, shaking his head. “Obvious enough what’s changed,” he muttered under his breath.

He paid for his bottle and walked back toward the guild with a new weight in his thoughts, the old name suddenly trailing whispers behind him again.

By late afternoon the hall of the guild echoed again with the thud of boots and the hiss of mana. Ludger had cleared a rough square in the center, and he and Viola moved inside it like chess pieces—his armguards glowing faintly, her sword flickering with [Weapon Enhancing] as she practiced blocks and pivots.

Luna sat on a crate nearby, cleaning her knives, eyes flicking up now and then. On the upper balcony, half-hidden in shadow, Gaius leaned against the railing with a bottle in his hand. He wasn’t snoring this time. He was watching.

“Again,” Ludger said, firing a light [Mana Bolt] toward Viola.

She deflected it with a grunt, twisting her stance just like he’d drilled her. “We’re wasting time,” she complained, her blade still glowing. “If we go deeper we’ll find better monsters. Better loot. This is just the kiddie pool.”

Ludger sidestepped, throwing another small bolt. “You’re not ready for the deep layers yet.”

Viola batted the bolt aside, glaring at him. “Says you. We already handled those iron freaks.”

“That was the edge,” Ludger said calmly. “Every step deeper means more monsters, thicker mana, worse ambushes. If we don’t map first, we get lost. And then you’re a corpse with shiny gear.”

She made a face, blocking another bolt with a sharp clang. “You’re too methodical. You suck the fun out of everything.”

“Good,” he said without missing a beat. “Fun gets people killed in labyrinths.”

She huffed, planting her feet and swinging again. The sparring bolts cracked against her blade, sending sparks of mana into the air.

Above them, Gaius took a slow drink from his bottle, eyes narrowed. The faintest flicker of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. Methodical, huh? he thought. The kid’s got a plan. And he’s using my name to run it.

He stayed where he was, half in shadow, watching a little longer to see what this strange boy and his two companions were really building inside his ruined guild.

Gaius swirled the last mouthful of liquor in his bottle, eyes still on the boy drilling the girl below. The rhythm of their training had a deliberate, almost military precision to it. Not the flailing of rookies. Kid’s too calm for his age, Gaius thought. Too damn calm.

He shifted his weight against the railing, and his gaze drifted toward the far corner of the hall. That’s when he saw it: a crate pushed half under a broken table, faint glimmers leaking from inside.

Cores. Dozens of them.

He squinted. Even in the dim light the dull metal husks were unmistakable—cores from iron elementals, cleaned and stacked like coin. There had to be at least ten dozen, maybe more.

Gaius’ brows knit together. That’s… ridiculous. A handful of iron elemental cores was a decent haul for a trained party. This was a stockpile. For a group of children—one warrior girl, one quiet maid, and a scrawny kid with odd armguards—it should’ve been impossible.

They should have sold them already, he thought. Turned them into coin. This amount of work should’ve lined their pockets for weeks. Instead, the cores just sat there, faintly glowing like an accusation.

Gaius let the bottle hang loosely at his side, a furrow deepening between his eyes. What the hell are they doing? How are they doing it?

He looked back at Ludger, who was calmly firing another controlled [Mana Bolt] at the girl as if nothing in the world could touch him. The iron cores in the corner gleamed like proof of something he didn’t yet understand. For the first time in years, the old guildmaster felt not just curiosity but a flicker of unease.

The sparring ended with one last flash of [Weapon Enhancing] and a small, controlled [Mana Bolt] that cracked harmlessly against the far wall. Viola lowered her blade, chest rising and falling with sharp breaths, sweat glinting on her forehead.

“Enough for today,” Ludger said, voice as even as ever. He rolled his shoulders once, then turned away from the square.

Instead of heading for the stairs or his pack, he walked straight to the far corner of the hall where the crate of iron cores sat glowing faintly under the broken table. He crouched down, settling cross-legged in front of the pile, and closed his eyes. His hands hovered just above the cores, palms out, as he began to breathe slowly, the faint ripple of mana from his [Spiritual Core] brushing over the metal like a probing current.

On the balcony above, Gaius’ brows shot up. Meditating? Here?

Then, as he watched the boy still his breathing and focus on the cores, the realization hit him. He’s trying to sense the mana in them. He thinks he can learn from it.

Gaius’ mouth twisted into a half-grimace, half-smirk. Kid’s clever but green. Should’ve realized by now the mana in monster cores disperses after a few days.

He took a slow drink from his bottle, eyes narrowing. Fresh cores hold their secrets; old ones are just shiny rocks. All that effort and he’s meditating over husks.

Below, Ludger remained perfectly still, the faintest glow pulsing from his hands as he tried to feel something—anything—in the fading cores. Viola watched him curiously, wiping her blade, while Luna stayed silent, her expression unreadable.

Gaius leaned heavier on the railing, the bottle dangling from his fingers. At least now I know what he’s trying to do.

Gaius stayed where he was, leaning against the railing, waiting for the inevitable moment when the boy would sigh, give up, and move on. The old bottle hung loosely in his hand. Let’s see how long before he realizes the cores are dead, he thought.

But instead of stopping, Ludger’s breathing deepened. His eyes stayed shut as he straightened slowly from his cross-legged position, rising to his feet with deliberate calm.

At first nothing looked unusual. Just a kid standing in front of a crate of dead monster cores, eyes closed, face composed.

Then Gaius squinted.

Around Ludger’s shoulders, the faintest shimmer hung in the air—like heat haze, only duller. Tiny particles rose from the floor and from the pile of cores, too small to see clearly at first. Dust.

It drifted upward in lazy spirals, then began to move with intent, circling Ludger in a slow, wavering halo. The faint grit on the floor quivered, lifting a few centimeters, as if drawn by some invisible current radiating from the boy.

Gaius blinked, leaning forward, bottle forgotten in his hand. That’s not mana from the cores. That’s—

Below, Ludger’s expression didn’t change, his eyes still shut. But the swirl of dust around him thickened slightly, forming a subtle, rotating pattern that pulsed with the same rhythm as his breathing.

Gaius’ mouth tightened into something between surprise and reluctant respect. Kid’s not touching the cores at all… he’s controlling the surrounding dust.

It was barely visible, just a haze moving at his command, but in a place as still as the empty guild hall it was unmistakable. The boy had reached out with his mana and found something else to grasp.

Gaius exhaled slowly through his nose. Well, I’ll be damned.

The bottle gave a muted clink as Gaius set it down on the railing. Without another word he started down the creaking stairs, boots heavy against the wood. By the time he reached the hall floor, the faint spiral of dust was still circling Ludger like a pale halo.

Ludger opened his eyes at the sound of footsteps but didn’t break the flow. The dust hung there, shimmering faintly in the torchlight.

Gaius stopped a few paces away, arms crossed. “How,” he said flatly, “did you do that?”

Ludger’s lips curved into a small, tired smile. “Watched. Learned.”

“Be specific, kid.”

Ludger lowered his hands slowly, the dust settling back to the floor like a curtain dropping. “After seeing the monsters operate for several days, I started attuning my senses to their mana. The iron elementals weren’t just chunks of rock—they were controlling the particles binding them together.”

He gestured lightly at the floor. “Even the dust on the ground, in the air—it has mana clinging to it. Not much, but enough. I just had to use the same amount across all of it to keep control.”

Gaius frowned, eyes narrowing. “The same amount.”

“Balance,” Ludger said simply. “Push too hard and it scatters. Push too little and it slides away. The monsters showed me the rhythm. I followed it.”

For a long moment Gaius stared at him, then gave a short, rough laugh—half incredulous, half impressed. “You attuned to dust by watching elementals.”

Ludger shrugged. “Better than staring at dead cores all day, right?”

The older man shook his head slowly. “You’re either insane or talented. Maybe both.”

“Probably both,” Ludger said dryly.

Behind them, Viola and Luna watched from the edge of the hall. Viola’s eyes were wide; Luna’s were unreadable but faintly intrigued.

Gaius rubbed the back of his neck, still looking at the boy with a new weight in his gaze. “Well. Looks like I’ve been underestimating you.”

Ludger just gave a faint, knowing smile. “Most people do.”

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