Chapter 957

Eclaire’s eyes scanned the chaos-that-wasn’t-chaos until she found him.

Arslan.

He stood near the inner wall, surrounded by captains and messengers, issuing orders without raising his voice. He didn’t need to shout, people leaned in to hear him, then moved immediately, carrying his commands outward like ripples through water.

“Reinforce the eastern line. I want overlapping coverage, no gaps.”

A nod. Movement.

“Keep the reserves behind the inner gate. If they break through, we don’t scatter, we collapse inward and hold.”

No hesitation. No wasted words. Just decisions. Eclaire slowed slightly as she approached, something tight settling in her chest again. For a brief moment, she considered turning away.

But it was too late. Arslan had already seen her. His gaze shifted, landing on her with the same steady weight he gave everything else. There was no surprise.

He walked toward her, boots heavy against the stone, presence alone enough to push space open around him.

Eclaire felt her throat tighten slightly. He knew. He was one of the few who did. What she was. What the Empire wanted. What all of this could be traced back to.

For a heartbeat, she wondered… If this was the moment. If he would say it.

If he would tell her to step forward. To surrender. To end it before the walls were tested.

Arslan stopped in front of her. Looked at her. And then… He nodded. That was all. Just acknowledgment. Then he turned away.

“Get inside the inner perimeter,” he said over his shoulder, already moving back toward his commanders. “You’re safer there. Still, we might need you help sooner than later…”

Safer. Not prepared to be handed over. Eclaire stood there for a second, something in her chest shifting in a way she couldn’t quite name.

He wasn’t even considering it. The thought didn’t even exist for him. She swallowed once, then moved as instructed, but her eyes stayed on him.

Arslan didn’t slow. Didn’t look back. Didn’t treat her any differently than anyone else who needed to be placed where they would survive the coming storm. Because that was the only thing that mattered right now.

After a moment, his steps slowed, not because of her, but because something beyond the walls had caught his attention.

Arslan turned. And looked toward the horizon. Eclaire followed his gaze. The armies were closer now.

Close enough that the shapes had sharpened. Banners clearer. Lines more defined. The sheer size of it pressing against the distance like a tide that had decided it was done waiting.

Even from here, the intent was obvious. Arslan’s expression didn’t change much. But something in his eyes shifted. Not fear. Not doubt. Something quieter. He was thinking.

Eclaire watched him, then realized… He wasn’t just looking at the army. He was looking through it. Past it. To something else entirely. Ludger. Viola. Her chest tightened again.

They were out there. Somewhere behind those advancing lines. Inside enemy territory. In a capital that had already turned against them.

No support. No reinforcements. No clear path back. Eclaire’s fingers curled slightly. She had seen Ludger fight. She had felt the weight of what he could do. Viola too, strong in her own way, steady, unyielding when it mattered.

But this…

This wasn’t a battlefield where strength alone decided everything. They were surrounded. This would be harder. Far harder than what Lionfang was about to face.

Because here… They had walls. They had allies. They had structure.

Out there…

They had nothing but themselves. Eclaire exhaled slowly, her gaze lingering on the approaching armies. Then shifting back to Arslan.

He still stood there, unmoving, watching the horizon like a man measuring distance not in meters… But in time. Time until impact. Time until decisions ran out.

Time until blood. If he was worried, he didn’t show it.

“They’ll be fine…” she whispered, though it sounded more like she was trying to convince herself.

No one answered. The wind carried the distant sound of marching closer. Arslan finally turned back to his commanders.

“Positions,” he said.

The moment for waiting was ending.

Eclaire drew in a slow breath, steadying herself again as the reality of it settled fully into place.

Lionfang would hold the line. But somewhere beyond that line… Two of its strongest fighters were already deep inside the enemy’s jaws.

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And this time… There would be no easy way to reach them.

While Lionsguard and the northerners prepared for the battle of their lives, Ludger walked through the capital like nothing was wrong. The contrast would have been almost funny if anyone there had known.

Beyond the sealed roads and the distant armies, men and women were arming themselves for a siege that could decide the future of the frontier. Walls were being reinforced. Orders were spreading. Northerners were sharpening axes with the kind of smiles only lunatics and veterans wore before war.

And at the center of the Empire’s grand capital… the boy they were supposed to fear, hunt, corner, and kill was strolling through its streets at an unhurried pace.

Not slowly enough to stand out. Not quickly enough to look nervous. Just… moving.

Like a soldier following orders during a citywide emergency. At first glance, he even looked useful.

His head turned here and there with apparent vigilance, eyes scanning rooftops, alleys, shattered plazas, and damaged streets with the sharp attention expected from someone helping search for a dangerous fugitive.

For himself. That part was almost enough to make him smile. Almost. Because the act was good. Good enough that nobody gave him more than a passing glance. The full brown armor helped with that.

One of the enemies he had killed earlier, one of the idiots unlucky enough to get caught by his explosive mana swords before even understanding what was happening, had been wearing a complete suit of dull brown armor, the kind made to look practical and forgettable rather than noble or memorable. No bright crest. No polished vanity. Just functional plates over leather and cloth.

Perfect. After finishing the second labyrinth guardian, Ludger had taken what he needed from memory. Then, using earth magic, he made a replica.

Not a perfect one if someone stared too long from up close, but more than good enough for a city already drowning in panic, smoke, rumors, and blood. Dust and soot covered most imperfections anyway, and people in crisis rarely saw what was in front of them.

They saw what they expected to see. And right now, they expected armed men searching for Ludger. So Ludger gave them one.

His helmet shadowed his face just enough. The armor changed his outline. A borrowed spear completed the picture. Add the fact that he walked with the quiet confidence of someone who belonged, and most people’s eyes slid right past him.

Which was exactly how he liked it.

He turned down another broad street where shattered stone still marked the aftermath of fighting, boots crunching lightly over debris as he glanced toward the distant shimmer of the barrier surrounding the capital.

That was the real reason he was moving.

Not escape. Not yet. Investigation.

Every now and then he would stop, pretend to study a trail of broken masonry, glance toward a rooftop, or exchange a few clipped words with another search group before moving on again. From the outside, it looked like he was tracking a dangerous target.

In reality, he was mapping the cage. His eyes kept returning to the barrier. Its shape. Its pulse. Its thickness where it bent over towers and walls. The way the mana flow shifted near older sections of the capital.

The way some anchor points seemed brighter than others.

The way soldiers unconsciously avoided standing too close to certain towers, as if they had been warned about something delicate or important without fully understanding why.

Ludger walked, watched, memorized.

A normal person might have focused on getting out as fast as possible. A desperate person definitely would have.

But Ludger had never been either of those things. He had already realized one simple truth… if the barrier was strong enough to trap him now, then it would matter later too.

For him. For anyone else the Empire decided to cage. Breaking out blindly would waste strength. Understanding the cage first would let him tear it apart properly.

He slowed near a damaged square where several armored men were speaking in tense, low voices. One of them was pointing toward a side street while another cursed about reports from the western quarter.

Ludger lowered his head slightly and kept walking, giving them the same disinterested glance any tired soldier might offer.

The capital was still in that fragile state after disaster, too tense to relax, too disorganized to fully lock down, and too proud to admit how badly things had slipped. Search parties overlapped. Officers shouted different orders. Rumors moved faster than commands. Some swore Ludger had fled underground. Others insisted he was hiding in the ruins. A few claimed he had already escaped and that the ongoing search was just theater to avoid public humiliation.

Ludger found that one the funniest. He was right there. A few streets away from men loudly discussing how impossible it would be for him to move through the city unnoticed.

He adjusted the weight of the false armor slightly and continued on. The barrier shimmered faintly overhead in the daylight, nearly invisible unless it caught the angle of the sun or rippled with mana activity. To most people, it probably looked reassuring. To Ludger, it looked arrogant.

He passed near an intersection where the street climbed upward, giving him a clearer angle on part of the outer wall. There, for just a moment, he saw one of the barrier nodes react to something, faintly brightening, then settling again.

He kept walking without changing expression, but his mind was already working.

Anchor points. Possibly layered control through specific towers or ritual sites. Maybe tied to the city itself. Maybe tied to key personnel. Maybe both. His fingers twitched once beneath the gauntlet of false stone-and-earth armor, not from nerves but from the urge to test it immediately.

He ignored that urge. Testing too early would expose him. Right now, observation was worth more than destruction. He turned down another road, this one quieter, and let his pace ease even more. From a distance, he looked like a man checking for tracks or hidden movement. Up close, anyone sharp enough might have noticed his attention drifting too often toward the barrier and the architecture supporting it.

A scream echoed faintly somewhere farther off, panic, argument, maybe someone reacting to another false sighting. Several soldiers broke into a run in that direction.

Ludger didn’t join them.

Instead, he angled the other way.

Toward a section of wall that looked older. Toward a slight distortion in the barrier’s curve. Toward weakness.

He kept the act going the whole time, of course. Every now and then he would pause and kneel briefly, as if studying footprints. Once, he even climbed partway onto a collapsed structure and scanned the streets with convincing irritation, like a hunter frustrated by a target slipping away.

In reality, he was counting. Timing pulses. Watching which segments of the barrier brightened in sequence. Measuring mana density by feel.

The second labyrinth guardian had been troublesome, but useful in its own way. Fighting it had sharpened something in him. Forced him to pay closer attention to how mana properties altered resistance, how layered effects interacted, how defenses that looked absolute could still be strained, redirected, or broken if approached correctly.

The barrier would be the same. Everything broke eventually.

The only real question was how much force it took, and whether intelligence could reduce the cost.

Ludger preferred intelligence. Usually. He came to another stop and lifted his head just enough to watch the shimmer high above the city.

Behind that barrier, the capital still thought itself in control.