Something slammed into the ground with such force that the forming ice shattered outward, exploding into glittering shards across the floor. The temperature spiked upward as the frozen air dispersed.
Boom.
Dust and frost lifted into a swirling cloud.Ludger’s eyes snapped toward the source.
A figure stepped through the fading mist, a large man, towering over the other criminals, shoulders broad enough to block the lantern light behind him. His arms were thick with muscle, his stance grounded like a trained fighter, not some random thug. Steel spikes jutted from the gauntlets covering his fists, each one dark with etchings, likely runic, likely very deadly.
He cracked his knuckles slowly as he walked, every step making the earth beneath him tremble slightly. His presence dwarfed the others. He wasn’t just another goon.
He was the real threat. The kick he’d delivered to break Ludger’s ice technique had left a crater in the stone floor. Ludger exhaled quietly behind his mask, eyes narrowing.
“Finally,” he muttered. “Someone who might actually be worth the effort.”
The man stopped a few paces from Ludger, tilting his head like he was examining some strange insect that had wandered into his den. Up close, the spiked gauntlets looked even more brutal, layers of metal welded together with crude but effective runework, designed for blunt destruction rather than elegance. His lip curled in amusement.
“Who the hell are you, shorty?”
Ludger’s eye twitched. Just a little.
“First of all,” he said automatically, “I am of average height. And I can still grow a bit more.”
The words flew out before he could stop them. He clicked his tongue in irritation, mentally kicking himself. He was supposed to be silent and mysterious, the hooded vigilante, the nameless shadow. Not… whatever that reflexive comment was.
The big man barked out a laugh, deep and coarse. “Ha! Touched a soft spot, did I? Didn’t expect the little invader to get all sensitive about his height.”
Ludger stayed silent this time, jaw tightening behind the stone mask. Mistake corrected. Persona restored.
The large man rested one spiked gauntlet on his hip, smirking. “Well then, since you’re trying so hard to act mysterious, tell me, how did you find our little operation down here?”
Ludger simply shrugged. No explanation. No words. Just a single, dismissive shrug that said, Your security sucks.The man’s smirk faltered, then returned with more irritation behind it.
“Fine. Be that way.” He thumped a fist against his chest. “Name’s Ragdar Ironthorn—the Guildmaster of the Iron Moth Brotherhood.”
He spread his arms wide as if expecting applause. The movement caused the lantern light to catch on the blood-smeared spikes of his gauntlets, casting jagged shadows across the chamber.
“And you, little shadow, showed up on a wonderful night. You’re here to witness the beginning of our rise!”
Ludger remained perfectly still. Unfortunately, Ragdar took stillness as encouragement.
He launched into a speech, loud, animated, and dripping with the kind of revolutionary zeal that sounded inspiring only to people who had never studied strategy.
“For too long,” Ragdar boomed, pacing in front of his frozen, dying men, “the nobles of this rotten Empire have fattened themselves on OUR labor! OUR risk! OUR blood! They hoard the artifacts, the power, the land, while the common man grovels in mud!”
He slammed his gauntlet against a crate, splintering it. The lanterns rattled on their chains.
“But not anymore! The Iron Moth will rise! We’ll dethrone every pig in their silk-lined chairs! We’ll TAKE the territory that rightfully belongs to the people, NOT the rich parasites who treat us like dirt!”
He puffed his chest out, voice echoing through the chamber.
“We will become the nightmare of the nobles! The shadow that devours their wealth! The fire that burns away their false power! And soon, very soon, we’ll…”
Ludger blinked once. Then twice. Internally, he sighed.
Great. A long-winded revolutionary with delusions of grandeur. I should’ve collapsed the ceiling when I had the chance.
Ragdar kept going, now gesturing dramatically at the ceiling as if he were addressing a stadium instead of one hooded kid.
“The people will follow us! The oppressed will join! And together, we will CRUSH the order of nobles and seize EVERYTHING, !” He paused for dramatic effect, raising a fist.
Ludger finally tilted his head.
“…Are you done?” he asked quietly, voice muffled beneath the mask.
Ragdar blinked, thrown off for a moment. Ludger tightened his gloves and stepped forward a single pace, mana humming faintly along the ground. Because he was absolutely, unquestionably done listening.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
Ludger didn’t answer Ragdar’s theatrics. Instead, his gaze slid past the grandstanding guildmaster and toward the cages at the back of the chamber, dark metal bars, rusted chains, and terrified faces peering through gaps. Men, women, even a few teenagers. All filthy, exhausted, bruised. All too thin. All too defeated.
None of them looked like nobles.
Ludger tilted his head slightly. “Those people,” he said, voice level and controlled through the stone mask. “Are they the nobles you hate so much?”
Ragdar paused mid-speech, following Ludger’s gaze. His jaw tightened. “Sometimes,” he said, puffing out his chest, “hard choices have to be made in the name of freedom.”
Ludger nodded slowly. “So everyone has to suffer for freedom… except you, right?”
The words cut sharper than any blade in the room. Several of Ragdar’s men shifted uncomfortably. Even the air felt heavier for a moment. Ragdar blinked. Once. Twice.
His brow furrowed as the logic finally caught up with him. A crease formed between his eyebrows as the gears turned painfully in his skull. Then he let out a grunt.
“…Fair point.” He scratched his jaw. “When the time comes, if someone has a better plan than mine, then maybe I’ll be the one to pay the price. As long as they can make me submit.”
Ludger nodded once. “Might makes right, huh?”
Ragdar smirked. “You got that right.”
The shift was instantaneous. One moment Ragdar was talking, the next he was lunging with shocking speed for a man his size. His gauntleted fist came crashing down toward Ludger’s head, spiked metal primed to tear straight through bone.
But Ludger wasn’t there. He pushed off the ground with a burst of wind, sliding backward so smoothly it almost looked like he was pulled by invisible strings. Ragdar’s punch slammed into the stone floor instead, cracking it in a spiderweb pattern.
Dust shot upward, filling the air. Ragdar rose through it with a grin, eyes locked on Ludger.
“So you can move,” he growled. “Good. Makes this more fun.”
Ludger exhaled once behind the mask. This was going to get loud.
Ragdar lunged again, this time crossing the distance like a battering ram strapped to a ballista. His first punch tore through the air with enough force to make the lantern chains swing violently. Ludger shifted a single step to the right, letting the gauntlet pass so close it clipped the end of his hood, but not the boy beneath it.
Ragdar didn’t slow. He pivoted instantly, sending a backfist toward Ludger’s jaw.
Ludger ducked, barely bending his knees, the spiked gauntlet whistling over his head. A third punch came. Then a fourth. Then a rain of them.
Ragdar’s fists blurred, thick, brutal steel smashing downward like meteor strikes. Every punch left a crater. Every missed blow sent debris scattering. Even the wind displaced by his swings was dangerous: crates were knocked clean off their stacks, cages rattled violently, dust storms erupted with each shockwave. One punch slammed into a stone pillar beside Ludger.
BOOM.
The pillar cracked in half, stone chunks flying across the chamber. A metal cage toppled over, sending several prisoners scrambling backward in panic. The sheer shockwave blew out lantern flames nearby, plunging half the room into flickering darkness.
Ludger didn’t counter. He didn’t cast a spell. He didn’t create a weapon. He just kept stepping aside, weaving through the barrage with infuriating simplicity. A tilt of his head. A shift of weight. A small slide backward on a whisper of wind. Ragdar’s fists never found him.
“STOP DODGING AND FIGHT LIKE A MAN!” Ragdar roared, the veins in his neck bulging.
Ludger didn’t even reply. He just crossed his arms. Calm. Relaxed. Borderline bored. Ragdar’s face turned beet red.
“Oh you little,” he swung again, faster, pushing his body to the limit. His gauntlet tore through the air with explosive force. The gust from his movement slammed into a pile of crates, launching them into the far wall with enough impact to splinter wood.
Ludger leaned slightly to the side. The punch missed by a hair.
Ragdar snarled and attacked from above, trying to crush Ludger under a falling hammer fist. The impact blasted a shockwave that knocked over another cage and sent dust raining from the ceiling. Ludger stepped out of the crater without even uncrossing his arms.
“You MOCKING me?” Ragdar shouted.
Ludger tilted his head. Silent. Unimpressed. A thick vein throbbed on Ragdar’s forehead.
“Oh, that’s it.” Ragdar’s voice dropped to a feral growl. “Now I’m pissed.”
He planted a foot so hard the floor cracked, then surged forward with a burst of raw speed that would’ve been terrifying to anyone else.
But to Ludger? It was just another punch to avoid. And he did effortlessly, while the stone under Ragdar’s fist shattered like brittle glass. Ludger’s stillness only made one thing clear: Ragdar Ironthorn wasn’t fighting a scared masked intruder. He was fighting someone far, far above his weight class. And Ludger hadn’t even lifted a finger yet.
Ragdar roared and charged again, boots hammering the stone floor with enough force to send cracks spider-webbing beneath him. His gauntlets drew back for another skull-crushing blow—this one clearly meant to finish the fight in a single hit.
Ludger finally moved. But not the way Ragdar expected.
With one flick of his wrist, Ludger cast Splash straight into Ragdar’s face.
A full sphere of water exploded against the guildmaster’s head, soaking his hair, blinding him, and sending a shock of wet impact down his spine. Before Ragdar could process what happened, Ludger flicked his other hand,
Another Splash, this one directly at the man’s legs. The floor instantly turned slick. Ragdar’s boots skidded. His balance wavered.
It was only a second, barely even that, but for Ludger, it was all the time he needed.
The next punch came wide, sloppy, thrown out of instinct instead of technique. Ludger stepped under the arm with a smooth pivot, grabbed Ragdar’s wrist, and let the man’s own momentum carry him forward. Then Ludger turned, planted his footing, and executed a perfect overhead throw.
The massive guildmaster, two hundred kilos of muscle, rage, and ego, was lifted clean off the ground, spun through the air, and slammed into the nearest wall with the grace of a flying sack of potatoes.
BOOOOM.
The stone cracked. Dust exploded outward. Half the chamber shook. And Ragdar Ironthorn…
Ragdar, feared guildmaster… Ragdar the revolutionary…ended up folded in half against the shattered wall, his legs slumped over his head, his ass pointed straight at the ceiling.
For a moment, he didn’t move. His eyes were wide, unfocused, like he couldn’t decide if he was concussed or simply humiliated beyond repair.
A low groan escaped him. “Wh… what the…?”
He blinked, trying to make sense of the world while still upside-down. Ludger dusted his gloves, utterly unbothered, and muttered behind his stone mask, “You should really watch your footing.”
Ragdar’s confused expression only deepened. Somewhere behind him, one of the frozen goons toppled over with a cracking sound, making the moment even more pathetic.
And Ludger, calm, composed, and slightly disappointed, took a slow step forward, ready to end the fight properly.
