All Jobs and Classes! I Just Wanted One Skill, Not Them All!

Chapter 672

Kaela stood near the supply stack, posture relaxed in the way only dangerous people ever managed. Calm-eyed, the kind of fighter who didn’t waste energy on nerves because she’d learned long ago that panic didn’t float.

Renvar was beside her, checking a coil of rope like he was judging it personally. He had that quiet competence that made men seem boring until you realized boring was what kept you alive when the waves turned black and angry.

And Maurien… Maurien leaned against a pillar with his arms folded, looking like he’d been born unimpressed. Wind mage. Bandit hunter. The man had once turned a pirate volley into confetti with a single wall of air and then complained about the noise.

All three of them had naval fighting experience. All three had fought alongside Ludger in a storm, against a pirate fleet that had believed numbers mattered more than discipline. They wouldn’t freeze when the ocean showed teeth. They wouldn’t scream when the water turned wrong. They were support, not liabilities. So far, perfect.

Then Ludger’s eyes shifted. And the rest of the scene didn’t match his plan.

Shera stood near the gate, half-shadowed by the archway, her posture casual like she had every right to be here. The summoner’s eyes were bright, amused, and entirely too interested in whatever trouble this was going to become.

Beside her was Valk.

The monk-hermit looked like he’d walked out of a mountain and into the guild by accident, bare hands relaxed at his sides, calm as stone. He’d once taught Ludger how to keep his breath steady when his body screamed. The kind of man who didn’t need armor because his mind was the armor.

And then, because apparently the morning had decided Ludger didn’t get nice things, Viola was there too. A pair of blades at her hips, hair pulled back, stance balanced like she’d been training hard enough to make her bones remember violence. Luna stood a step behind her, quiet and sharp-eyed, watching everything like she was already cataloging potential disasters.

Ludger stopped in the middle of the courtyard. He stared. They stared back.

Kaela lifted one brow slightly, like she was watching Ludger realize his neat little mission had just been invaded by reality. Then she showed him a smile and waved her hands playfully.

Renvar didn’t comment. Which was odd, maybe he had grown up a bit. He just looked at Ludger with the faintest hint of this will be another one hell of an adventure.

Maurien’s mouth twitched, almost a smirk. Shera smiled like she’d just won something. Valk’s expression was calm, which somehow made it worse. Viola’s eyes were steady.

Luna’s were… blank. Ludger inhaled slowly. Exhaled slower. His first instinct was to ask the obvious question.

Why are you here?

His second instinct was to remember he didn’t have time for whatever argument that question would start. And his third instinct, stronger than both, was simply not wanting to know. So he didn’t ask. He just walked forward, face blank, voice flat.

“Alright,” Ludger said. “We’re departing.”

He looked at the original three first, Kaela, Renvar, Maurien, then let his eyes flick to the new faces like he was acknowledging a problem he’d deal with later.

He didn’t ask why. Because if he asked… he had a feeling he wouldn’t like the answer.

They didn’t take the main road. They didn’t take horses.

And they sure as hell didn’t take a caravan that could be counted from a hilltop. Ludger led them down into the tunnels.

The underground routes were his work, cut clean through stubborn earth, braced in the places that mattered, wide enough to swallow a wagon without scraping the walls. They weren’t pretty. They weren’t meant to be. They were a vein system for Lionfang, a way to move bodies and supplies without advertising it to anyone with eyes and a map.

At the tunnel mouth waited the larger runic wagon, the one reserved for big missions. Thick with metal framing, reinforced axles, rune lines running along the sides like veins of dim blue light. It wasn’t fast in the way a horse was fast.

It was fast in the way a fortress was fast when it decided to start rolling.

Ludger climbed up first and took the front bench like he belonged there, because he did. Kaela and Renvar checked straps and crates with practiced hands. Maurien sat with his usual air of being mildly offended by the darkness. Shera slid in like she’d always owned a seat. Valk settled quietly, unbothered by the enclosed space. Viola and Luna took the rear, their presence filling the wagon in a different way than supplies did, like extra blades laid on the table.

The wagon lurched forward, runes humming low. Earth swallowed the daylight behind them.

The tunnel air was cool and dry, dust motes drifting through the faint light lines painted by the runes. The wheels didn’t creak. They rolled with a steady confidence, the wagon’s enchantments eating friction like it was an optional rule.

Ludger watched the ceiling pass overhead, his own cut marks, smoothed by time and maintenance. Familiar stone. Familiar silence. Yvar wasn’t with them. Arslan wasn’t with them. Most of the guild wasn’t with them.

Just a tight handful. The exact kind of handful he’d wanted. Except… not exactly. Two of them weren’t even Lionsguard. Shera and Valk.

And yet Ludger didn’t feel the usual irritation he felt when plans got touched by other hands. Valk had taught him discipline when he was younger, back when discipline had been the only thing keeping him from burning out his own body. Shera had taught him how to read creatures through mana, how to see intent in the way a beast breathed, moved, watched.

They weren’t guild. But they were trusted. That mattered more.

The wagon rolled on, deep underground. The sound became hypnotic, wheel over stone, rune hum, breath, the occasional clink of gear shifting in a crate. No wind. No sun. No banners. No eyes from the surface.

Ludger didn’t ask about the new additions. He didn’t want to ask. But people had a way of answering questions you didn’t speak when they knew you were pretending you didn’t care. Valk was the first to break the silence.

“We weren’t planning to disrupt anything,” he said calmly, voice low enough to match the tunnel. “But while your Father spoke with Kharnek… we were nearby.”

Shera leaned forward from her seat, grin barely restrained. “You could say we were conveniently positioned.”

Ludger’s eyes shifted to them without turning his head. “Go on.”

Valk nodded once. “Arslan asked if we wanted to join. Not as Lionsguard. As observers.”

Shera lifted a hand as if swearing an oath she didn’t take seriously. “He said it would be good for us to see how your guild works. How you work. Since we’re… currently visiting.”

Ludger blinked once. Just once. Then he looked back at the tunnel ahead, expression flat.

“So,” he said, “my father invited you.”

Shera’s grin widened. “Correct.”

Valk’s tone remained neutral. “He asked respectfully. Although his intentions were clear, he wanted more support for you.”

Ludger exhaled through his nose. The breath came out almost like a laugh if laughter had been beaten into a straight line.

He nodded slowly. “Thank you.”

Shera’s grin faltered for half a second, surprised at the sincerity.

Ludger continued, voice dry. “For making it clear that in my own guild, my opinion on such matters is unnecessary.”

For a moment, the wagon went very quiet. Then Viola snorted from the back like she’d been waiting for that line specifically.

“Oh my gods,” she said, leaning forward just enough that her voice carried. “Don’t be such a drama queen.”

Luna made a small sound that might have been amusement. Kaela’s mouth twitched.

Renvar didn’t change expression, but his eyes flicked toward Ludger like he was marking it down as entertainment for later. Maurien just closed his eyes as if he was praying for patience. Ludger stared forward, unamused.

“It’s not drama,” he said. “It’s governance.”

Viola scoffed. “It’s drama with a spreadsheet.”

Ludger didn’t respond. Mostly because she wasn’t wrong and he hated that.

Kaela leaned back, satisfied. “See? This is why we came. Front-row seats.”

Valk’s voice stayed calm. “And because Arslan trusts you. He trusts us. He believes we’ll help if things turn… complicated. The worries of a parent you will understand when you become one.”

Ludger’s gaze narrowed slightly at that last word. The word complicated echoed in his mind as well…

That was what people called traps when they weren’t ready to admit there might be teeth in them. The wagon rolled deeper, the tunnel stretching ahead like a throat leading toward the sea. Ludger let the silence return, his mind already shifting back to the real problem—wrecks, cargo, patterns, and a giant eye under black water.

Drama could wait. The ocean wouldn’t. The wagon rolled for a while before anyone spoke again.

The tunnels had that effect. The further you got from the surface, the more the world narrowed into essentials, breath, stone, the soft hum of runes, the weight of the mission pressing down like the ceiling.

Viola lasted longer than Ludger expected.

She didn’t fidget. Didn’t crack jokes. Didn’t poke at him just to see if he’d react.

For a good stretch, she stared at the faint rune-light sliding over the walls like she was watching a river in winter. Eventually, though, she couldn’t help herself.

“This looked important,” Viola said, voice casual but not careless. “That’s why we came.”

Ludger didn’t turn around. He kept his eyes on the tunnel ahead, posture steady on the front bench.

“Fine,” he said. “But magic isn’t your forte. Fighting on land is easier for you. Not on the ocean.”

He meant it plainly. Not as an insult, more like stating that a hammer was bad at sewing. Viola shrugged in the back like the answer didn’t weigh much.

“Then it’ll be helpful in some way,” she said. “Eventually.”

Ludger paused a beat, then gave the smallest nod.

“Sure.”

The word carried the exact amount of enthusiasm it deserved: none.

He let the silence hang again, long enough that he could’ve ended it there. But the thought had already hooked into his mind, and Ludger didn’t like loose threads.

He glanced back just enough for Viola to feel it.

“Who leaked it to you?” Ludger asked. “Dad as well?”

Viola’s shoulders tightened. Just slightly. A tell so small most people would miss it.

She looked away.

“I can’t tell you who it was,” she said quickly. Then, like she realized how suspicious that sounded, she added, “She said: keep my identity hidden. If this becomes… questioned.”

Ludger stared at her. He didn’t need a minute. He didn’t even need a second.

“So it was Mom,” he said.

Viola facepalmed, palm hitting her forehead with enough force to make a point.

“Really?” she groaned. “That easy to guess?”

“Yes,” Ludger said, deadpan. “Why did she ask you?”

Viola lowered her hand and sighed, eyes rolling upward as if the ceiling of the tunnel might offer sympathy.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Probably… probably she wanted your big sister looking after her little brother.”

Ludger’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“I don’t need babysitting from…”

Viola cut him off with a look. “You are not finishing that sentence.”

Ludger held her gaze for a moment, then looked forward again, expression flattening.

“Sure,” he said. “Whatever you say.”

Viola huffed, satisfied like she’d won something important.

Behind her, Luna stayed quiet, but there was a faint softness in her eyes, like the whole exchange was exactly what she’d expected from Elaine.

Ludger felt the curiosity itch again.

Elaine asking Viola to come meant she’d seen the risk too. Or she’d seen something else. Some angle Ludger hadn’t considered. Some feeling she couldn’t quantify into numbers and therefore outsourced into people.

He wanted to pry. He wanted to ask what Elaine had said, exactly. The tone. The words. The worry underneath. He wanted to know if it was just protective instinct… or if she’d smelled a trap in the way Rufas had delivered the job.

But the mission mattered more. The ocean didn’t care about family dynamics. The sea monster didn’t care about who loved who. The wrecks didn’t care about who had leaked what.

So Ludger let it go. He didn’t push. He didn’t dig.

He faced forward again, letting the tunnel swallow the conversation, and forced his mind back where it needed to be, toward salt, darkness, and a giant eye that had watched him once already.

This time, he planned to be ready when it blinked.

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