The old lord leaned back, studying him with that measured, thoughtful gaze that had weighed hundreds of reports in his lifetime. “You sound like you were there for months, not days.”

  “I didn’t waste time,” Ludger said simply.

  “I never thought you did,” Torvares replied with a faint smile. “You move faster than most armies and bring back more results than most councils. Still, next time, try not to outpace diplomacy entirely.”

  Ludger’s lips twitched, not quite a smile, but close. “I’ll try.”

  Torvares turned his attention back toward the window, where Viola was now attempting to stop Elle from climbing onto a training dummy while Luna helplessly tried to retrieve her sword from Arash.

  “Your mother’s going to hear about this,” Torvares said dryly.

  “I’m counting on it,” Ludger replied, his tone perfectly deadpan.

  Torvares chuckled, the sound low and amused. “Good to have you back, Ludger. Now then, let’s talk about your report in full. I imagine this ‘magic shortcut’ of yours is the least of the surprises.”

  Ludger stood by the desk, hands folded behind his back, gaze steady as ever. “There’s another development,” he said. “One I’ve been working on since way before the League trip.”

  Torvares looked up from his notes. “Go on.”

  “I’ve been training my geomancy by expanding a network of underground tunnels,” Ludger explained. His tone was matter-of-fact, the way someone might describe routine maintenance rather than a feat of impossible logistics. “So far, they reach from Lionfang to Meronia and a few villages in the area, with branches extending toward Koa and other places The structure’s stable, layered reinforcement with air channels.”

  Torvares arched an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “You’ve built tunnels through the Empire’s underbelly, and you’re talking about it like you just finished paving a road.”

  “I’m not finished,” Ludger said evenly. “The plan is to use them to move shipments to the Velis League directly, froststeel, mana cores, anything high-value. No wagons, no convoys, no attention. It cuts transport time by days and eliminates interception risks.”

  Torvares leaned forward slightly, intrigued now. “Underground routes, powered by magic.”

  Ludger nodded. “Yes. Since they’re below the surface, horses aren’t viable. I’d either propel the transport myself or use mana core engines, compact drive systems powered through geomantic control.”

  The old lord’s fingers tapped lightly against his desk, his sharp mind already turning over the implications. “Efficient. Quiet. Invisible to border scouts and bandits alike.”

  “Exactly.” Ludger’s gaze didn’t waver. “But there’s another reason I’m telling you this.”

  Torvares tilted his head. “Which is?”

  “I want you to use them too,” Ludger said. “For travel, and for intelligence.”

  That made the old man pause. Ludger continued, voice steady. “If I keep expanding the tunnels, they could reach major Imperial provinces within months. No one would know except us. You could send trusted agents, messages, or supplies anywhere without crossing a single visible road. No Senate oversight. No interference. Just direct, secured movement under their noses.”

  For a long moment, Torvares said nothing. The faint movement of the wind filled the silence.

  Then the old lord’s mouth curved into a slow, approving smile. “You’re thinking like a statesman,” he said softly. “And a dangerous one at that.”

  Ludger met his gaze evenly. “Dangerous plans work better when they’re prepared early.”

  Torvares chuckled under his breath. “That they do. You’ve essentially proposed building a hidden artery through the Empire, one only our people can use. Travel, trade, espionage… even emergency evacuation if things ever turn.”

  “Exactly,” Ludger said. “You’ll be able to gather information and move forces before anyone else even hears the rumors.”

  Torvares turned back to the window, his reflection lit by the morning light. Viola’s shouts and the twins’ laughter echoed faintly from outside. “You’ve just turned geomancy into infrastructure,” he mused. “And intelligence work into logistics.”

  Then, with a faint chuckle, he added, “Your father will call this overkill.”

  Ludger’s expression didn’t change. “He’ll call it planning ahead.”

  Torvares smiled. “He’ll call it you.”

  The old lord leaned back in his chair, eyes gleaming with quiet approval. “All right, Ludger. We’ll do it your way. Expand the tunnels, but discreetly. No one outside our circle hears a word.”

  Ludger nodded. “Very well.”

  Torvares’s tone softened slightly. “You’ve turned a boy’s magic trick into a state network. Not bad, Vice Guildmaster.”

  Ludger allowed himself a faint smirk. “Just another shortcut.”

  Torvares sat back in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin. “This is quite the undertaking,” he said finally. “A hidden network stretching across the Empire, possibly even beyond. Tell me, Ludger—what do you need from me?”

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Ludger didn’t hesitate. “Supplies. A large amount of them.”

  Torvares’s brows lifted slightly, though his tone stayed even. “Specifics?”

  “Mana potions,” Ludger said. “In bulk. Even if I work nonstop, there’s no chance I can carve a full path toward the eastern mountains in a single month. I’ll use the tunnels this month to shorten transport to the League, but expansion past that will drain my reserves faster than I can recover naturally. With enough potions, I can accelerate construction and stabilize the deeper sections before the ground shifts again.”

  Torvares gave a small, thoughtful nod. “You’re planning to keep it running continuously, then. Not a one-time route.”

  “Exactly. The first phase—the one connecting Lionfang, Meronia, and the Torvares estate—is just the foundation. What I want next is a main artery stretching eastward, reaching the mountains by the League’s border. From there, we can branch out as needed.”

  The old lord leaned back, a faint smile playing at his lips. “You make it sound simple.”

  Ludger’s tone was flat, practical. “It won’t be. But it’ll work.”

  Torvares studied him for a moment, then nodded slowly. “Then you’ll have what you need.” He turned toward his desk, reaching for a sheet of parchment and his seal. “I’ll send a message to the alchemists under my patronage. The ones who handle potion contracts for the House owe me enough favors to work through the night if needed.”

  He began writing as he spoke, his hand moving with the smooth precision of habit. “They’ll prepare a shipment dedicated to your project, high-grade mana restoratives, not the watered-down stock the markets push. You’ll have enough to keep your mana flow steady for continuous casting.”

  “Good,” Ludger said with a nod. “The faster I can reinforce the path, the more stable the network becomes.”

  Torvares sealed the letter with wax and pressed the crest into it before setting it aside for a courier. “You do realize,” he said lightly, “that if anyone else were telling me this plan, I’d assume it was lunacy. But since it’s you, I’m inclined to believe you’ll have it finished before the rest of the Empire even suspects something’s under their feet.”

  Ludger’s expression didn’t change. “That’s the idea.”

  Torvares chuckled. “Then let’s make sure you have enough mana to move mountains.”

  Ludger nodded once, calm and certain. “That’s exactly what I intend to do.”

  Ludger left the study quietly, the heavy oak door closing behind him with a soft click. The sound of quills and parchment faded as he made his way down the hall, the distant echoes of laughter and chaos already guiding him toward the garden.

  The scene that awaited him outside made even his usual composure waver for a moment.

  Viola was leaning on her sword like it was the only thing keeping her upright, hair half undone, her breath short and uneven. Luna wasn’t much better—her normally neat uniform was disheveled, and she was sitting on the grass, trying to catch her breath while Arash tugged insistently at her sleeve.

  Elle was sitting triumphantly on one of the training dummies, waving a broken wooden stick like a royal scepter.

  “Ludger,” Viola said, voice low and tired. “Take. Them. Back.”

  Luna nodded weakly, too drained to speak.

  Ludger crossed the garden with steady steps, crouched, and scooped the twins up effortlessly, Elle still giggling, Arash pouting at the sudden end of his fun.

  “Fun time over,” Ludger said.

  “Nooo!” Elle protested, kicking gently. “Vi play more!”

  “Vi dying,” Viola muttered, dragging herself upright.

  Ludger raised an eyebrow, the faintest hint of amusement ghosting across his expression. “Ten minutes.”

  Viola gave him a flat stare. “Ten minutes with them feels like ten hours.”

  He didn’t argue, just adjusted his hold on the twins and nodded once in quiet acknowledgment. “Good training, then.”

  “Not the kind I needed,” she shot back, voice hoarse.

  Ludger turned toward the manor gates, the twins still giggling on his shoulders as if they hadn’t just reduced two fighters to exhaustion.

  From the window above, Lord Torvares watched them leave, Ludger walking with that same calm precision, two bundles of pure chaos bouncing happily on his shoulders. A faint smile tugged at the old man’s mouth as he leaned on his cane.

  “Impressive,” he murmured to himself. “More than I expected.”

  His eyes followed the boy’s path until the trio disappeared around the corner of the courtyard. Despite its small roster, the Lionsguard had already become one of the most capable guilds in the Empire. Skilled, efficient, and led by a child who was far too calm for his years.

  Torvares rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He’s building something that will outlast all of us, he thought. And he’s doing it faster than anyone realizes.

  He turned away from the window, mind already working through possibilities, resources, alliances, ways to reinforce what the Lionsguard had built.

  Ludger had proven himself far beyond the role of a frontier prodigy. He was an ally of immense potential, one the old lord couldn’t afford to let falter.

  “Very well, boy,” Torvares murmured, a quiet gleam in his eye. “If you’re going to move mountains, then I’ll make sure the world doesn’t stand in your way.”

  Ludger walked through the quiet streets of Meronia with the twins still in tow, their laughter fading behind him as they grew drowsy in his arms. The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of dust and forge smoke. But even as he moved with steady, measured steps, his thoughts were elsewhere.

  He was falling behind in his physical conditioning, and he knew it. His strikes had lost a fraction of their weight, his endurance slightly dulled from weeks of focusing purely on geomancy. It wasn’t something he liked admitting, but there were only so many hours in a day, and lately, the earth demanded most of them.

  It couldn’t be helped. Earth magic was simply too useful. It built, protected, traveled, attacked, it was the one tool he could rely on for nearly every situation. Walls, weapons, terrain, transport… all of it came easier to him now than the swing of a sword. Every pulse of mana into the ground deepened his control, refined the connection between his mind and the world beneath his feet.

  Still, his obsession wasn’t just practicality. There was something else driving him. He was close. Too close.

  Several of his geomancy skills were already brushing the upper nineties. [Earth Manipulation] had been perfected months ago, but others, [Stone Grip], [Tectonic Pulse], [Seismic Sense], were reaching thresholds that even his system hadn’t yet defined.

  The question burned quietly at the back of his mind:

  What happens when a class reaches level one hundred?

  Would the system simply stop counting? Would the class evolve? Split? Unlock something entirely new?

  The system had never offered an answer. Ludger’s gaze drifted down to the dirt path beneath his boots. The faint hum of mana answered him instinctively, small vibrations resonating through the soles of his feet as if the earth itself knew his intent.

  “There’s only one way to find out,” he muttered to himself.

  His eyes hardened slightly, the weight of fatigue and ambition mixing behind them. Physical training could wait a little longer. For now, he had a ceiling to break, and the earth would be the first to feel it.