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

Chapter 412

Ludger flipped through a page, scanned a list, then another. Dozens of names, some circled, some annotated, some with question marks and dates beside them. But nothing concrete. Just suspicion and patterns with no confirmed trail. He lowered the folder with a faint, unimpressed breath.

“…Names on paper won’t cut it,” he said, tone controlled but unmistakably dissatisfied. “If we hit them blindly, we waste time. If we pressure the wrong person, word spreads and the real target disappears again.”

Linne and Dalan exchanged a guilty look. They both knew Ludger was right.

“We tried digging deeper,” Linne admitted, rubbing the back of her neck, “but research has been a storm lately. New commissions, projects, repairs, academy inspections, we barely had time to track rumors.”

Dalan nodded, guilt showing through a tired sigh. “We only managed to identify who profited from Verk’s fall. Not how, not where they conduct business, not who they talk to. Our investigation stalled without… manpower.”

Ludger stared. Not angry, calculating.

He closed the folder slowly, letting the sound echo across the hidden room like a judge lowering a gavel.

“So we find where they move.”

He turned his head to Dalan.

“Bring me a map of Velis. Big one.”

Dalan blinked, then hurried off upstairs, his footsteps fading as he rummaged through storage. Linne stayed still as Ludger placed the folder on the table, opened it to the first page again, then tapped the list.

“If we mark their strongholds, factories, estates, and known routes… then we can triangulate patterns. Something common. Something they share.”

Ragan’s ears perked. Harkun leaned closer. Sivra watched intently.

Kaela smirked. “Now you’re thinking like a criminal.”

Maurien corrected softly, “No. Like a hunter.”

Dalan returned with a large rolled map, thick paper marked with rivers, mountain borders and trade lines. He placed it across the table, unrolled it fully, and pinned the ends under iron scraps to keep it flat.

Ludger pointed at Linne with a firm nod.

“Take red ink. Mark every name on the list with their main base, workplace, or property. Buildings, guild halls, shops, if they own it, put it down. Then use black ink for suspected hideouts or financial interests.”

Linne swallowed but obeyed, dipping a quill in crimson and beginning to mark points one by one.

Dot.

Dot.

Dot–dot–dot.

Soon the map of the Velis League was no longer clean, it bled red and black across its cities.

Trade port south. Three academy quarters. Noble estates on the eastern side. Foundries in the industrial rim. And more.

Clusters began to form. Patterns. Not random, concentrated. Maurien leaned over the map.

“Their presence is heavy near the eastern runesmith district.”

Harkun traced a claw north. “And near the academy supply routes.”

Sivra tapped a spot near the river basin. “River ports connect them.”

Kaela whistled low. “Someone’s been funneling money and materials along these lines.”

Ludger’s eyes sharpened. Now this was something he could hunt.

Ludger rested one hand on the edge of the map, eyes still roaming over the marked spots, and then asked a question that made both engineers pause mid-thought:

“How does Velis identify slaves? Officially.”

Linne blinked, then set the quill down.

“They use contract chokers,” she said. “Thin metal bands inscribed with obedience runes. If a slave tries to flee or break orders, it sends an electric shock, painful, but not lethal. Enough to make them stop. Rarely escalates further.”

Dalan continued, pulling a small sketch from his notebook and flipping it around for everyone to see, a ring of metal inscribed with tiny runic lines.

“They’re standard. Mild. Regulated. The Academy oversees production to avoid abuses. Too much shock leads to brain damage or rebellion, so they keep them weak. A tool of control, not torture.”

Harkun’s jaw flexed. Ragan growled low, clearly not fond of the concept at all. Sivra’s wings twitched, feathers bristling with restrained anger.

Ludger barely reacted outwardly, but his tone held a razor edge.

“So if we found chokers with augmentation runes, stronger shocks, mind-binding, mana drains, obedience amplification, anything illegal…”

“That,” Linne exhaled, “would be proof of black-market slave networks.”

Dalan nodded. “Especially if the runes don’t match academy patterns. Illegal enchants would mean someone is still working from the shadows, likely Verk’s old network or someone who inherited it.”

Ludger tapped the table once. A simple sound, but decisive.

“Then we search for chokers.”

Maurien nodded slowly. “Find one hidden slave, one illegal contract band, we have leverage.”

Kaela smirked, leaning back. “And leverage means bargaining chips. Bargaining chips mean open doors where permits don’t.”

“And cracked skulls where diplomacy fails,” Renvar added cheerfully.

Linne and Dalan exchanged another look, equal parts reluctant and impressed.

“…It would work,” Dalan admitted. “If we expose illegal chokers inside the city, the Council would be forced to address it. And any one tied to them will start sweating.”

“But…” Linne lifted a finger, serious now. “No one will cooperate immediately. The moment this information spreads, everyone becomes paranoid. No one trusts each other, and every guild thinks another is setting a trap.”

Dalan crossed his arms.

“Even if we show proof, it’ll take time before people agree to hunt together. Politics here is slower than rust forming on a sword.”

Ludger’s eyes didn’t waver.

“I don’t need cooperation right away. I just need a target.”

Kaela laughed under her breath. Maurien smiled faintly, just the corner of her mouth.

Ragan rumbled approval. “Simple.”

Ludger leaned forward again, fingers brushing across the map as he traced old memories with fresh eyes. Verk’s manor sat neatly marked in black, the one place Ludger knew intimately. He followed the roads and trade veins outward from it, then circled the buildings Linne had marked as purchased by other factions after Verk fell. Armories. Gear workshops. Three runesmith forges. All clustered tightly around his former estate like bricks in a rebuilt wall.

Was that intentional? Or habit?

He shifted his gaze to other academy cities, the eastern quarter, the riverside foundry zone, and the upper engineer district. Slowly, carefully, he traced shapes in red ink.

And pattern emerged.

Three other locations shared similar layout clusters, two armories flanking a forge, with a warehouse trail leading toward noble property. Not perfect copies of Verk’s structure, but disturbingly close.

Coincidence? Maybe. A blueprint? More likely. Someone was rebuilding the same kind of network Verk once commanded. Ludger frowned. His finger tapped the point where lines converged.

“If I hit one location first…” he murmured, thinking aloud, “then the others will scrub evidence and run. They’ll burn contracts, move slaves, hide the chokers. We lose our trail instantly.”

Maurien nodded slowly, tone cool and tactical.

“A single strike warns the others. You need eyes everywhere, or proof before they react.”

Kaela smirked. “Or hit all three at once.”

Renvar muttered, “Please don’t say all three at once.”

The beastmen watched silently, intense, waiting, ready for whichever path meant blood. Ludger exhaled, slow and sharp.

“We can’t accuse anyone just for having similar layouts. Even if we free prisoners inside one compound, without proof it means nothing. They’ll claim innocence. Blame someone else.”

Harkun nodded. “Proof must be undeniable.”

Exactly what he was thinking. He looked at Linne and Dalan again.

“You two,” he said, “do we have any device that can record images, sound, anything we can later show others?”

Linne bit his lip. Dalan’s face scrunched like he’d swallowed a wrench.

“We had prototypes,” Dalan admitted. “Old research. Crude image captures using crystal lenses and mana imprinting.”

Linne nodded reluctantly. “And sound records, vibration plates using echo runes. But they’re unstable, untested, and easy to tamper with. Anyone could say we faked it.”

Dalan tapped the table. “Council rejected them for official evidence. Too manipulable.”

Kaela crossed her arms. “So we’re stuck proving things live.”

Maurien’s voice was quiet but piercing. “Unless we seize someone important. Interrogate publicly.”

Sivra flexed claws. “In the right place. Before witnesses.”

Ludger considered all of this in silence.

Recording tech existed, barely. Unreliable, insecure. Useful for personal review but not for court or council. So proof must be captured in the open. Caught escaping. Caught holding prisoners. Caught with illegal chokers.

And he would need to force exposure rather than quietly steal. He closed the map and straightened.

“So we infiltrate, find slaves or illegal chokers, then we force a chase. Make them pursue. Make them expose themselves while trying to keep their secrets.”

Kaela grinned viciously. Maurien nodded slow, approving. Renvar looked terrified and excited at once. The beastmen’s eyes gleamed like hunters spotting fresh tracks.

Linne muttered under his breath, “This is reckless.”

Dalan sighed. “This is brilliant.”

Ludger raised his hood again, armor darkening his face.

“And now,” he said quietly, “we choose which nest to break first.”

Because the moment they strike one, three others will panic. And that chaos was exactly what Ludger wanted. He wasn’t just planning an infiltration. He was planning a network collapse.

Ludger rolled up the map, tied it shut, and placed it on the table. When he spoke, his voice carried the stillness before a blade falls.

“We’re splitting up.”

Everyone in the room looked up — all at once.

No hesitation. No wavering.

Just expectation.

Ludger gestured to the marked clusters on the map.

“I’ll stay in Coria and infiltrate this one,” he tapped the densest cluster near the guild quarter. “The most suspicious structure. Highest chance of hidden slaves or illegal chokers. High risk.”

Kaela opened her mouth, probably to argue, but he lifted a hand.

“I’m going alone.”

Her expression twisted into a mix of irritation and grudging understanding. Maurien’s eyes narrowed, reading the intent behind his decision with silent approval. Renvar looked like he wanted to complain but wisely shut up. The beastmen simply accepted it, they understood lone hunting better than most humans ever could.

Then Ludger continued.

“The three of you from the Primal Groves,” he pointed to Ragan, Harkun, and Sivra, “will separate and support Kaela, Maurien and Renvar. One tracker per city. Don’t infiltrate, watch. Stalk. Learn.”

Ragan nodded slowly. Harkun grunted. Sivra’s head tilted, silent and predatory.

Maurien folded her arms, voice low. “And if we find a prison?”

“Observe first,” Ludger answered. “Look for chokers. Illegal runes. Any sign of forced confinement.”

Kaela frowned. “So we don’t rescue?”

“You don’t intervene directly,” Ludger clarified, gaze steady. “You let the situation unfold. If prisoners escape on their own or cause chaos, others will try to silence them. We look for those who move to control information.”

Renvar blinked. “Meaning… the slavers will expose themselves?”

Ludger nodded once.

“Yes. If they fear exposure, they’ll chase escapees. Try to relocate them. Kill witnesses. Hide evidence. That panic is proof.”

Ragan’s teeth bared, pleased. “Prey steps into open.”

Harkun rumbled deep approval. “Fire flushes fox from hole.”

Sivra whispered, “Chaos invites truth.”

Kaela smirked. “Perfect.”

Linne rubbed her forehead. “You’re turning this into a coordinated city-wide trap.”

Ludger didn’t deny it. He simply adjusted his hood, shadowing his eyes.

The room felt heavier. Not with fear, with anticipation.They were no longer blindly searching. They were hunting predators with a net.

Kaela swung a dagger between fingers. “And how long before we move?”

“Tonight,” Ludger said.

Maurien nodded without hesitation. Renvar swallowed, then grinned. Ragan cracked his knuckles. Harkun tightened his grip on his axe. Sivra’s feathers bristled with silent eagerness. Linne and Dalan exchanged a look of resigned horror.

Ludger drew in a slow breath, calm, centered, unstoppable.

“When the slavers panic, they’ll expose their network.

When they run, we follow.

When they hide, we drag them out.”

He lowered his voice like a verdict.

“And when they resist—”

Brown mana flickered along his armor seams.

“—we break them.”

The split was decided. Tonight, the Velis League would not sleep quietly. The hunt begins across four cities. And Ludger walks into the lion’s den alone.

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