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

Chapter 475

Ludger didn’t stop the training.

He felt the pull of other obligations, Raukor waiting at the forge, unanswered issues piling up, but he ignored them. This mattered more. Momentum like this didn’t come often, and wasting it would be worse than any delay.

“Rotate partners,” he ordered.

They did.

“Again.”

Sweat darkened clothes. Arms trembled. Breathing grew rough, but no one quit. No one asked to stop. They leaned on each other without realizing it, adjusted spacing instinctively, covered mistakes before they turned into injuries.

Morale held. Team Focus tightened. And the job responded.

The growth wasn’t explosive. It was relentless.

Hours blurred into motion. A day passed. Then another. The yard became a single rhythm, movement, impact, correction, repeat.

Then the progress snapped into place.

Guild Master reached Level 30

Ludger felt it settle deep, heavier than before, like a framework finishing its assembly.

And with it.

Five new threads unfolded at once.

Shared Insight: Increases Wisdom of all guild members by +3 per skill level. Applies during collective learning, drills, or strategic discussion

Collective Cognition: Increases Intelligence of all guild members by +3 per skill level. Applies when members work toward a common objective

Enduring Line: Increases Endurance of all guild members by +3 per skill level.

Shared Vitality: Increases Vitality of all guild members by +3 per skill level.

Fortunate Momentum: Increases Luck of all guild members by +3 per skill level

Ludger exhaled slowly.

That was… faster than expected.

He watched the trainees move again, how near-misses became clean evasions, how stamina dips recovered quicker, how timing aligned just a little too well to be coincidence.

This isn’t subtle anymore, he thought.

And that was dangerous.

Still… A corner of his mouth lifted.

Level thirty. In a few days.

At this pace, the job wasn’t just growing. It was accelerating. He raised a hand.

“Break,” Ludger said. “Five minutes. Water. Don’t sit.”

Groans followed, but no complaints. As they dispersed, he finally allowed himself to think of the forge again.

Sorry, Raukor, he thought dryly. You’ll have to wait.

Right now, he was building something far more difficult than steel. And far harder to fix if it broke. The excitement didn’t last long. Practicality cut in. Ludger reviewed the interface quietly and frowned.

Five. That was the limit. He could only equip five Guild Master skills at the same time.

Morale. Team Focus. And now five more parameter-based skills competing for the same slots.

He exhaled through his nose.

Of course there’s a cap.

Still, it wasn’t a real problem, just a constraint to work around.

If he rotated them correctly, structured training properly, and kept everyone engaged, the skills would gain experience every minute they were active. No bursts. No tricks. Just constant, steady progression.

And with nearly a hundred trainees moving in unison? The math was simple.

At this rate… a couple of months.

Maybe less. That realization made him pause.

Mastering the job that quickly wasn’t normal. It wasn’t even expected. The system had clearly assumed smaller organizations, slower growth, fragmented effort.

Lionsguard was breaking those assumptions just by existing. Ludger’s gaze drifted back to the yard, to the recruits drinking water, stretching, laughing quietly despite exhaustion.

If I do this right, he thought, the job will level itself.

And that brought up the more interesting question. These skills were foundational. Blunt. Parameter-focused. Necessary, but not defining.

What came after them? What kind of skills did the system unlock once raw stats were no longer the bottleneck?

Command abilities? Tactical overlays? Influence mechanics? Shared perception? Distributed mana flow?

The possibilities stacked quickly. And for the first time since returning from the capital, Ludger felt something sharp and unfamiliar cut through the usual restraint. Anticipation.

The thought of it, of what waited beyond the obvious, made his pulse quicken just a little.

Now that, he admitted silently, is exciting.

He called the trainees back to the line.

“Training resumes,” Ludger said calmly.

But inside, his focus was already a few steps ahead, waiting to see what kind of leader the system thought he was becoming.

Ludger watched the trainees fall back into formation, movements already tighter than before, and felt the steady pulse of progress humming in the back of his mind.

Too steady. Too clean. He’d learned that lesson early.

When things moved this smoothly, it meant the world was lining something up.

It’s about time, he thought. Something’s going to happen.

His mind wandered despite himself, spinning through increasingly ridiculous possibilities.

An imperial inspector showing up unannounced, offended by the presence of beastmen. A labyrinth breach under the town. A drunken northerner punching a noble’s son in the face. A system message announcing some absurd trial for “excessive efficiency.”

He almost snorted at that one. Then he saw them.

Cor, Aleia, Selene, and Harold were leaving the guildhall together, moving with purpose rather than coincidence. No weapons drawn. No tension, but not casual either.

There it is, Ludger thought.

He stepped away from the yard and headed toward them.

They noticed him immediately and slowed, stopping halfway across the courtyard. Selene moved first, stepping ahead of the others and planting herself directly in his path.

She crossed her arms. Her expression turned serious in an instant, sharp eyes fixed on him.

“I heard,” she said flatly, “that you want us to move out.”

Silence fell. Aleia blinked. Harold’s brow furrowed. Cor just watched Ludger carefully, weighing his reaction.

Ludger opened his mouth… And Selene broke.

She grinned, wide and unapologetic.

“Relax,” she said, waving a hand. “I’m joking.”

She leaned back on her heels, amusement plain on her face. “You should’ve seen your expression.”

Cor snorted quietly. Aleia sighed in relief, then shot Selene a look. “That wasn’t funny.”

“Yes it was,” Selene replied immediately. “Perfect timing, too.”

Ludger exhaled slowly, the tension he hadn’t realized he’d gathered bleeding off.

So this is how it ends, he thought dryly. Not a disaster. Just Selene.

He met their gazes again, expression settling back into calm.

“Since you’re all here,” Ludger said, “we should talk.”

Whatever was coming next, at least it had the decency to announce itself.

Ludger didn’t waste time easing into it.

“When it comes to managing another branch of the guild,” he said, voice even, “you’re the best option.”

All four of them stilled.

“You’re the oldest members,” Ludger continued. “The originals. You were here when Lionsguard didn’t exist yet, when it was just an idea and a handful of people willing to take risks.”

Cor’s eyes narrowed slightly, thoughtful rather than suspicious.

“You know how this guild works,” Ludger said. “Not on paper. In practice. You know what we tolerate, what we don’t, and why.”

Harold scratched his beard slowly. Aleia folded her hands together, listening intently. Selene’s grin faded into something more attentive.

“That’s why you’re the right people,” Ludger finished.

He paused, letting that settle.

“I’m aware this can be seen as a reward,” Ludger said. “Authority. Trust. Autonomy.”

He met each of their gazes in turn.

“It can also be seen as a punishment.”

No one interrupted.

“You’d have to move,” Ludger went on. “Another city. New politics. No support structure you didn’t build yourselves. You’d be responsible for everything, from recruitment to discipline to keeping the guild’s name intact.”

Selene whistled softly.

“That’s not a promotion,” she said. “That's an exile with paperwork.”

“Something like that,” Ludger replied.

Cor let out a low chuckle. “He’s not wrong.”

Ludger straightened slightly.

“I’m not asking you because I need bodies,” he said. “I’m asking because I need people who won’t turn it into something unrecognizable.”

Silence followed, not awkward this time. Heavy. Considered.

“This isn’t a decision you make on the spot,” Ludger added. “Think about it. Talk it over. Decide whether you want to carry that weight.”

He stopped, then added quietly, “I wouldn’t offer it if I didn’t trust you.”

That, more than anything else, landed. Whatever they chose, Ludger knew one thing for certain. This wasn’t about power.

It was about whether the Lionsguard could survive without him standing at its center somewhere else.

Aleia was the one who answered. She nodded once, calm and steady, as if the decision had already been weighed long before this conversation began.

“We know,” she said simply.

Her gaze shifted past Ludger, toward the training yard. Toward the lines of trainees moving under his instructions, clumsy but determined, trying to grow into something more.

She watched them for a moment, the faintest smile touching her lips.

Then she looked back at him.

“That’s actually why we came,” Aleia continued. “We’ll take the lizard dungeon.”

Ludger blinked.

“The transfer,” she clarified. “From the Ashbound Compact to Lionsguard. Paperwork, claims, patrol routes, the whole mess. We’ll handle it.”

Selene grinned again, this time without mischief. “They know us. Or at least, they heard of us. Makes things simpler.”

Harold nodded. “No reason to throw the kids into politics their first week by letting you leave when they are making so much progress.”

Cor folded his arms. “You focus on teaching them. Turning them into something worth protecting.”

Aleia met Ludger’s eyes again.

“You’ve got enough on your plate,” she said. “Let us deal with the part we’re good at.”

For a moment, Ludger didn’t answer. Then he nodded slowly.

“Alright,” he said.

No ceremony. No gratitude speeches. Just trust, returned in kind. If this was how the guild learned to carry itself… Then maybe he didn’t have to hold everything alone after all. Cor lingered a step behind the others, then cleared his throat.

“There’s something else,” he said.

Ludger turned back.

Cor didn’t look embarrassed. If anything, he looked… thoughtful. Like a man trying to put weight behind words he didn’t usually bother shaping.

“When we watched you teach them,” Cor continued, gesturing with his chin toward the yard, “something changed.”

Aleia glanced at him. Selene went quiet. Harold nodded once, already knowing where this was going.

Cor flexed his hand slowly, fingers opening and closing.

“Felt lighter,” he said. “Stronger. Like my body remembered how to move without me forcing it.”

He tapped the side of his head. “Mind was sharper too. Quicker. Less noise.”

He met Ludger’s eyes.

“Didn’t feel like adrenaline. Didn’t fade when I stepped away.”

Ludger said nothing.

Cor didn’t push for an explanation.

“We’ve all had moments like that before,” Cor went on. “Before a hard fight. Before something important. Inspiration, some people call it.”

A faint smile tugged at his mouth. “But this was different. Cleaner.”

He straightened slightly.

“I don’t know what you’re doing,” Cor said honestly. “And I don’t need to.”

He paused, then added with quiet certainty, “But the power we felt was real.”

Ludger held his gaze for a moment longer, then gave a short nod.

That was enough.

Cor smiled fully this time, satisfied, and turned to follow the others.

As they walked away, Ludger looked back toward the trainees.

So they can feel it too, he thought.

Good.

That meant it wasn’t just numbers on a screen anymore.

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