Ludger made his Teacher class reach level 130 in no time.

The biggest leap came once he started teaching others stone surfing. That one was perfect for it.

Not because it was simple. It wasn’t. Most people looked like idiots the first few times they tried balancing their weight, mana flow, and directional control on a moving slab of earth without immediately eating dirt. But that was exactly why it worked so well as a lesson. It combined practical geomancy, body control, and a very obvious reward. The moment someone managed even a few clean meters without falling over, they understood immediately why the skill mattered.

And because so few people in the Empire knew anything even remotely like it, the Teacher class devoured the experience gains every time he passed it on properly. That confirmed the pattern even further.

Rare skills. Useful skills. Those were the ones that fed the class best.

Ludger watched the notifications pile up with growing satisfaction while guild members stumbled, cursed, adjusted, and slowly learned how not to die on moving rock platforms like complete fools.

Faster than he would have expected even after the earth manipulation gains. At this rate, another week would probably be enough to master the class completely. Another week. Which would have been nice. Useful too.

If he waited, he could likely squeeze out even more value, push the geomancy lessons farther, refine the manuals, sharpen the teaching structure, and walk into the next phase with an even more developed class backing him.

But he couldn’t wait. Because the message finally came. Raukor and Julia had finished his suit. The moment he heard that, the rest of the calculation changed shape.

Training could continue without him for a while now. The first geomancy structure inside Lionsguard was already alive enough to keep moving forward under the instructors and the more competent trainees. The Teacher class had grown fast enough that delaying further for greed alone would start becoming stupidity.

And more importantly… The sealed labyrinths were still there. Armandis was still there. The structure beneath the Empire was still breathing. So yes. It was time to take the next step.

Ludger stood still for a moment after receiving the news, mind turning over everything one last time. The suit was ready. And he had already written manuals for Continental Shield and Stone Grip.

That should do the trick. Not because a manual could replace direct instruction fully. But because those two were the right sort of skills to leave behind while he moved. Continental Shield gave a practical defensive framework. Broad enough to matter. Stable enough to be drilled. Valuable for both guild members and trainees if taught properly.

Stone Grip was useful in the kind of close control work that made geomancy stop feeling like a trick and start becoming part of a person’s arsenal.

Between the manuals, the first five instructors, and the momentum already built into the training structure, Lionsguard would not stop growing just because Ludger stepped away for a while.

He exhaled slowly through his nose. Then he turned and started walking. No more waiting. No more polishing the foundation just because it felt good to watch numbers go up and guild capability spread outward in neat layers.

Ludger went to see the lower part of the suit that same day. He had expected Julia. Instead, he found Raukor.

The lion beastmenwas standing there with the expression of a man who had been left with work, responsibility, and at least one mild irritation he had not asked for. The workshop smelled like treated leather, heated metal, resin, dust, and stubborn craftsmanship. Parts, tools, folded cloth, scale scraps, and half-packed materials filled the space in neat enough disorder that only someone who lived inside it would understand where anything actually was.

Ludger looked around once.

“No Julia?”

Raukor snorted.

“The clothing lady has business to manage,” he said. “So she left me to handle it.”

Then he let out an annoyed sigh, the kind that suggested he was not actually offended by that arrangement, just insulted on principle by being forced to acknowledge it aloud. Ludger said nothing.

Raukor clicked his tongue, bent down, and pulled a reinforced box onto the table. He opened it with more care than his rough hands first suggested and showed Ludger the lower half of the suit.

At first glance, it was simpler than the upper part. No dramatic pieces. No mask. No hood. Just reinforced pants. But there were boots there too. Ludger’s eyes narrowed slightly.

He looked from the folded black trousers to the boots beside them and said, “The current schematics didn’t have boots.”

Raukor folded his arms.

“We made them anyway.”

Ludger looked at him. Raukor shrugged once, as if the answer should have been obvious.

“Figured you’d ask soon,” he said. “And if you didn’t, then we’d just have made the right decision before you caught up.”

That sounded annoyingly plausible. Ludger looked back down at the set properly this time.

The pants were black, same as the upper part, with dark green bordering worked into the seams in a way that matched the top half cleanly instead of making the set look patched together. The same held true for the boots. They had a harder shape than simple travel boots, but not so much armor that they looked heavy or clumsy. Built for movement. Built for control. Built to keep a person’s lower body protected without sacrificing speed.

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Raukor tapped one thick finger against the boots.

“These have several layers,” he said. “Spider silk inside. More than the upper part in some sections. Reptilian scales worked into the right areas too.”

Ludger listened. The beastmen continued.

“So you can add runes for sound muffling,” he said, “and also for making your steps cover more ground.”

That made Ludger’s attention sharpen slightly. Yes. That had real value.

Not just stealth. Not just movement. Efficient stealth movement. The kind that mattered in narrow hallways, sealed routes, guarded passages, and any place where one bad step could waste a clean entry. Raukor grunted and picked up one boot, turning it slightly to show the internal structure.

“We left you enough clean channels in the layers to inscribe without fighting the materials,” he said.

Ludger nodded once. That was good. The beastmen set the boot back down and pointed at the pants next.

“They’ve got a belt too.”

Ludger looked more carefully.

It wasn’t just a belt. It was integrated into the design, reinforced, weight-balanced, and fitted with a line of compact slots built for quick access. Not decorative. Not bulky. Practical enough to matter and subtle enough not to ruin the silhouette.

“For potions,” Raukor said. “Quick use.”

That made immediate sense too.

In a fight, in a chase, or inside a sealed labyrinth where one wrong pause might cost too much, fumbling through a bag was stupid. Slots built into the lower half meant cleaner access, faster reaction, and less wasted motion.

Ludger ran his eyes over the whole set again. It was simpler than the upper half in appearance. But not lesser. Not at all.

The design was doing exactly what a lower half should do, supporting movement, stealth, balance, and functional use without trying to become the center of attention. That mattered more than people usually realized. Plenty of armor sets failed because their wearers thought “protection” mattered more than actually being able to move like a person instead of a decorated crate.

Raukor watched him inspect it and then said, “Well?”

Ludger was quiet for a second.

Then he said, “It’s good.”

Raukor stared at him.

“That better be full praise from you.”

“It is.”

Raykor grunted, which from him counted as satisfaction.

Then he added, “The boots are the better part.”

Ludger glanced at him. Raukor’s mouth twisted faintly.

“You already looked happier at the boots than the pants.”

“That’s because they solve more problems.”

“That’s because you like ugly little solutions that make people harder to kill.”

Ludger considered that.

Then said, “Yes.”

Raukor snorted.

“Thought so.”

Ludger reached down and lifted one of the boots. It had good weight. Not too much. The materials were layered in a way he could already feel through the structure. Enough density for protection. Enough clean internal patterning for runes. Enough flexibility to handle rapid movement once he finished the enchantment work himself.

Very good. He looked back at the pants and belt slots.

“How many potions?”

“Depends on the size,” Raukor said. “Normal quick vials? Enough. The slots are balanced so your hips don’t get dragged if you fill them properly. You will have to ask Aronia for some specilized potions because just mana potions wouldn’t have enough room here to recover a lot.”

That answer was Raukor’s in exactly the way it needed to be.

No flashy claim. Just enough. Which usually meant “better than most people deserve.” Ludger set the boot down carefully.

Raukor looked at him for a moment and then asked, “You taking it now?”

“Yes.”

Ludger started packing the lower half away. Now he had the full suit. Upper half. Lower half. Boots. Slots. Armor. Everything he needed.

Or close enough that the rest could be solved with runes, planning, and bad decisions made carefully. And that meant the next stage had finally stopped being preparation and started becoming intention.

Raukor watched him pack the lower half away, then asked, “When are you planning to use it?”

Ludger didn’t look up.

“Probably tomorrow night.”

That made the beastmen’s brows pull together slightly.

“So soon?”

“I still need to run some tests,” Ludger said. “Then I’ll go.”

Raukor stared at him for a second, clearly deciding whether this counted as normal for Ludger or merely the usual flavor of alarming.

In the end, he asked, “You going alone?”

Ludger’s hands slowed just a fraction over the box. Raukor noticed that immediately.

The beastmen folded his arms and continued in a rougher tone, less annoyance now and more practical concern.

“It might be a good idea to have some backup,” he said. “Just in case.”

The words stayed in the workshop after that. Ludger didn’t answer right away. Because the idea wasn’t stupid. That was the problem.

Backup made sense. On paper, having more people meant more eyes, more coverage, more hands, more options if things turned ugly. If he walked into one of the sealed labyrinths and the place turned out to be bigger, dirtier, or more layered than expected, another capable person or two might make the difference between a clean exit and a forced one.

So yes. The idea had merit. And because it had merit, Ludger actually considered it. Eclaire. Rowan. Jennifer.

He turned the thought over once. Twice. Then discarded it. Working with Eclaire and the others was too dangerous. Not because they were incompetent. Because they were too easy to lose in the wrong kind of operation. If Ludger went alone and something happened, then he could run for it. Not retreat politely. Run for it properly.

Break walls. Collapse routes. Force openings. Tear through defenses. Turn the inside of the labyrinth into a trail of ruined stone and very immediate regret for anyone standing in front of him. If he had to destroy everything in his path to get out, he could do that.

Messy, yes. But possible. With another person there, everything changed. Then every escape route had to work for two.

Every sudden shift became a risk to someone else’s body, stamina, position, or survival. Every bad turn became a choice between forcing through or covering another person’s weakness. Every opportunity to unleash everything and break the place wide open got weighed against whether the person beside him could survive what he was about to do.

That meant he would have to be even more cautious. Even more restrained.

And a sealed labyrinth tied to the kind of people he was dealing with was not the sort of place where extra caution automatically made things safer. Sometimes caution just meant giving the enemy more time to close around you.

No. That was the real answer. Not this time. Not for the first breach.