The next morning arrived with thunder, grey skies, and a downpour so heavy it sounded like the entire capital was being pounded by thousands of fists. Sheets of rain slammed against the manor roof, overflowing gutters, flooding the garden paths, and turning the training courtyard into a muddy swamp. Ludger took one look outside and made the call.

  “Training is canceled.”

  The reaction was immediate.

  “What!? But we were this close to getting the core loop of Blazing Enchantment!” Rhea protested.

  “I finally stabilized the water Overdrive pulse!” Callen added.

  Taron scowled. “This is sabotage.”

  Even Mira looked mildly betrayed.

  Ludger didn’t budge. “Training with volatile elemental mana inside the manor is a good way to destroy the manor. And possibly blow yourselves up.”

  The recruits grumbled, defeated. Kaela muttered something about stealing umbrellas and training anyway. Maurien ignored them and went to get tea.

  After breakfast, the group scattered across the estate to kill time. Ludger headed toward one of the wide windows overlooking the flooded garden, and found Gaius already standing there, arms crossed behind his back, watching the storm hammer the city. The old geomancer’s face was unusually tight.

  “I don’t like this rain…” he murmured.

  Ludger raised an eyebrow and moved beside him. Gaius wasn’t the type to fear a little weather. If anything, he usually enjoyed nature more than most.

  “What’s wrong with it?” Ludger asked.

  Gaius exhaled, fogging the glass slightly. “Earth magic weakens in conditions like this. Too much moisture in the air, too much interference. It muddles the flow. Makes the ground unstable. I can’t extend my senses far.”

  Ludger frowned. He listened, really listened, to the rain. The mana in the droplets felt natural… almost. But the pattern…

  “…There’s not a lot of mana,” Ludger said carefully. “But it doesn’t mean someone isn’t behind it.”

  Gaius grunted in agreement. Ludger squinted out the window. Gaius appearing in the capital.

  A legendary earth mage whose presence could shift political balances. And within forty-eight hours, a downpour heavy enough to cripple geomancy blankets the entire region? That wasn’t normal. It wasn't a coincidence. It wasn’t weather misfortune. It was sabotage.

  “It makes too much sense,” Ludger muttered. “Your arrival puts pressure on the Senate. On the Rodericks. And now a storm rolls in that specifically weakens earth mages? Convenient timing.”

  Gaius’s gaze hardened, the glint in his eyes sharpening into something more dangerous.

  “Exactly what I was thinking.”

  Thunder rolled across the city, loud enough to shake the window frames. Ludger watched the rain with renewed suspicion. Someone was preparing the battlefield. And they were doing it with enough power to manipulate the capital’s sky. This wasn’t just a storm. It was a warning.

  Ludger watched the storm batter the gardens, the rain coming down in thick, merciless sheets, and a thought began to form, a reckless, tempting one.

  “…I could try dissipating the clouds,” he muttered.

  Gaius glanced at him with mild surprise. “With what? You’re not a wind mage.”

  “I have some tricks that gives me some control,” Ludger said, thinking aloud. “Enough to push or redirect pockets of air. If I poured everything into it… I might be able to break a chunk of the cloud formation.”

  He didn’t sound confident. Because he wasn’t.

  Gaius raised an eyebrow. “It would take a ridiculous amount of mana.”

  Ludger nodded slowly. “Yeah. And even if it works, if the clouds re-form immediately…” His eyes narrowed. “That would be all the proof I need that this storm is being controlled by someone.”

  A manufactured storm. A defensive field. A countermeasure to earth mages. It made too much sense. But then the other reality hit him. If he attempted it, if he blasted a hole in the clouds or disrupted the storm’s pattern, the entire capital would feel it. Every mage tower, every noble ward, every detection rune, every guard station. And they would all connect it back to him.

  Gaius must have sensed his hesitation because he gave a small nod. “If you unleash that much mana in the capital, they’ll assume you’re preparing an attack.”

  “Or covering one,” Ludger added. His jaw tightened. “And if the rain just comes back instantly, then we’d have confirmed it’s unnatural… but at the cost of exposing ourselves.”

  “So?” Gaius asked. “What will you do?”

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

  Ludger stared out the window as thunder cracked overhead, illuminating the drenched city in cold white flashes. He hated waiting. He hated sitting still. He hated reacting instead of acting.

  “…We wait,” Ludger said finally, voice firm. “If this is a trap, someone’s preparing the next step. We’ll see it sooner or later.”

  The rain intensified, hammering against the window like an impatient warning.

  “This isn’t natural,” Ludger whispered.

  “And whoever caused it,” Gaius replied, “wants us blind, and off balance.”

  Ludger exhaled through his nose, eyes narrowing. Fine. If they wanted to play games from the shadows, he’d be ready when they stepped into the light.

  In the end, the rain didn’t stop. Not for an hour. Not for an afternoon. Not for the entire day. It hammered the capital from dawn until dusk with the same relentless force, the same heavy rhythm, the same unnatural consistency. By evening, even the gutters of the Torvares estate were overflowing, turning pathways into small rivers.

  When night finally fell, the downpour weakened, just barely. But what followed was worse. A creeping mist began rolling in from the streets, slithering between buildings and seeping into every alley. At first, it looked like ordinary fog from a cold night following a warm rain.

  But it thickened. Fast. Too fast. Within minutes, visibility outside dropped to barely a few meters. Kaela stood at the window, hands on her hips, squinting at the white curtain swallowing the capital.

  “Okay, this is ridiculous.” She jabbed a finger toward the mist. “Rain all day, then instant horror-stories fog at night? This is way too obvious.”

  Maurien nodded silently, eyes narrowed. Even he looked uneasy, and Maurien didn’t get uneasy over the weather.

  Luna materialized near the window a moment later, expression unreadable. “This level of visibility would make tracking impossible. Or sneaking in. Or sneaking out.”

  Viola sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “And that means we stay inside.”

  Ludger felt a vein in his forehead throb painfully. “…What?”

  Viola turned to him, calm and logical, the exact opposite of what he wanted right now. “Ludger, if any of us leave the estate under these conditions, the Rodericks could immediately claim we’re plotting something. The mist gives them perfect cover to twist whatever we do.”

  Ludger’s jaw clenched. Hard.

  “If I let those assholes use every excuse in the book,” he growled, “we’ll still be here when I’m sixty.”

  Kaela snorted. “You? Sixty? With your lifestyle? Good luck.”

  Maurien hid a smile behind his hand.

  Viola stepped closer, softening her tone. “I get it. I do. This is infuriating. They’re buying time. They’re afraid. And they’re hiding behind the rules because they can’t attack openly without the entire Empire watching.”

  Ludger didn’t respond, still glaring at the mist as if he could punch it into submission.

  Viola placed a hand on his arm. “But we wait. Just a little longer.”

  Ludger finally looked at her.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Because Linne and Dalan are arriving tomorrow morning,” she said. “With League witnesses. With testimonies. With verification. The moment they show up, the Rodericks lose their excuses.”

  She held his gaze.

  “You don’t need to break the fog or start a fight. You just need to wait one more day.”

  Ludger closed his eyes, counting a slow breath.

  He hated waiting.

  But he hated losing more.

  “…Fine,” he muttered. “One more day.”

  Kaela clapped her hands brightly. “Great! Now who wants to play Mist Murder Mystery: Who’s the Traitor?”

  Everyone ignored her. Outside, the fog thickened even further, dense, choking, heavy with intention. Whoever caused this weather wasn’t hiding. They were preparing.

  With Ludger, Maurien, Gaius, and Kaela all inside the manor, the chances of anyone attempting an attack that night without being noticed were low, borderline suicidal, even. No sane person would storm the Torvares estate with three elite mages and a geomancer prodigy at full strength.

  But “low chance” didn’t mean impossible. And none of them were stupid enough to relax.

  Even more importantly, attacking the Torvares estate, in the capital, would be a declaration of guilt so loud the Roderick house wouldn’t be able to bury it. Which meant the Rodericks had little room to act… but they were desperate enough that Ludger wouldn’t put anything past them.

  He kept replaying the thought: If we get hit, they’ll know who did it. If we get hit, I can respond openly. If we get hit, that’s the end for them.

  Because with Ludger’s mana fully recovered, with his earth magic sharp and ready, with Gaius Stonefist right beside him… they could do something few mages in the Empire were capable of: Combine Continental Shields.

  If they poured their mana together, reinforced the estate’s defenses layer after layer…

  They could withstand a blast on the scale of the one that leveled Verk’s manor. Ludger was certain. More certain than he wished to admit.

  So even though they weren’t unprepared, not by a long shot, the waiting gnawed at him. He’d been forcing himself to be more proactive these last few years, pushing himself to act before problems grew teeth. Sitting still like this, letting others dictate the pace… it scratched at his nerves like sandpaper. And that tension infected the entire group. No one slept. Not really.

  They stayed together in the living room, dim lamps burning through the night while the storm raged and the mist pressed against the windows like a warning. Gaius meditated with his eyes half-open. Maurien sharpened blades that didn’t need sharpening. Kaela rotated between pacing, mumbling, and trying to peek outside every ten minutes. Even Luna lingered near the doorframe like a silent shadow.

  Ludger sat stiffly in an armchair, eyes half-closed, but not once relaxing. It was one of the longest nights of his life.

  When dawn finally crept over the horizon, the storm had stopped. The mist had vanished. The city was wet, silent, and eerily calm.

  Everyone in the room looked exhausted, eyes rimmed with bags, mana still coiled tight under their skin from an entire night spent ready to snap into combat. Ludger stretched his neck with a quiet crack.

  “Great,” Kaela muttered. “Survived the night. Now what?”

  Maurien was about to respond when the front gate bell chimed sharply.

  A guard rushed into the room. “Captain Varik is here. He says it’s urgent.”

  Ludger’s stomach sank. Urgent meant bad. Urgent, after a night like that, meant very bad.

  Moments later, Varik strode into the manor, cloak still dripping from the wet streets, expression grim enough to crush stone. He didn’t greet anyone. Didn’t apologize for the early hour.

  He spoke immediately:

  “We have a problem.”