An ugly expression twisted across Bron’s face, the lines of his usually composed demeanor breaking under the strain of frustration. His strides became heavier, the soft crunch of leaves underfoot growing more aggressive with every step. The crystal core of his Spy Bird lay shattered in his palm, its magical essence dissipated and useless. This was how he received the visual information the Spy Bird could provide. But now it’s nothing but a broken piece of glass.
The bird had been his ace, a tool that provided an unassailable advantage over the rest of the students. Its ability to scout ahead, silently relaying information about the dungeon’s layout and potential threats, had been integral to his plan. But now, that edge was gone.
“How the hell did this happen?” Bron muttered, his voice sharp. He ran a hand through his neatly combed hair, disrupting its pristine state.
He turned the crystal over in his hand, scrutinizing it as if the shattered pieces would offer some clue. It made no sense. The commoners Ludwig led had no means of bringing the bird down. Hell, half of them wouldn’t even understand what a Spy Bird was, let alone how to interfere with its enchantment. And yet, here he was—blindsided and increasingly agitated.
“Let’s pick up the pace,” Bron barked, his tone leaving no room for argument.
A sharp intake of breath came from a female student, the golden-haired noble who had been walking at his side. She was tall and poised, her every movement exuding an air of superiority. “Why?” she asked, her voice dripping with skepticism. “What’s going on, Bron?”
Bron stopped abruptly, pivoting to face her. His expression hardened, the frustration in his eyes now mixed with irritation. “Minerva,” he said, his voice slow and deliberate, “you don’t need to know everything. Just follow the damn orders.”
Her eyebrows arched, a faint, mocking smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “We’d follow ‘orders,'” she said, stressing the word with dripping sarcasm, “if they were worth following. But you can’t expect us to march blindly through this forest without any explanation.”
The other nobles murmured in agreement, their voices soft but weighted. Bron clenched his jaw. Nobles were not easy to lead. Each carried their own pride, and bending them to his will required tact and the occasional concession.
He inhaled sharply, forcing a more composed expression. “The Spy Bird is down,” he admitted. “If we waste time, those peasants might stumble onto the exit by sheer dumb luck. They lucked out in many things in life before like getting into the academy. If we hurry, we can outpace them—and ensure they don’t leave before us.”
Minerva tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. “And how exactly do you plan to stop them?”
Bron’s lips curled into a thin smile. “I have a few precautions in mind,” he said. “But we need to move now.”
The nobles exchanged uneasy glances but ultimately nodded. Bron turned on his heel, his stride more forceful as he led the group eastward.
***
Further into the forest, Ludwig’s group was visibly struggling. Hoyo stumbled to a stop, his chest heaving as he gasped for air. His hands rested on his knees, and his face was slick with sweat.
“We’re a bit exhausted, Ludwig,” Hoyo said between breaths. “We need to slow down, man.”
Ludwig paused, turning to assess the group. Kassandra leaned heavily against a tree, her usually sharp eyes dulled by fatigue. The others were in similar states, their shoulders slumped and their breathing labored.
“Brother,” Hoyo added, his voice tinged with exasperation, “you’re not even sweating.”
Only then did it hit Ludwig. His undead nature made him immune to exhaustion—a fact he often forgot. While he could march endlessly without pause, his companions were human, their stamina finite and quickly depleted.
“My apologies,” Ludwig said, his tone steady but genuinely contrite. “I didn’t mean to push you so hard. We’ll rest soon.”
Kassandra waved a hand dismissively, though her breathing was still heavy. “It’s not your fault,” she said. “We just… don’t have your stamina.” She straightened slightly, her gaze sharpening. “But why rest ‘soon’? Did you see something?”
Ludwig stepped closer to a nearby tree, pointing at its bark. “Look at the marks,” he said.
The group gathered around, their exhaustion momentarily forgotten. Deep gouges marred the tree’s surface, the pale wood beneath stark against the darker bark.
“What could’ve done that?” Hoyo asked, his brow furrowing.
“Think it’s a wolf?” another student suggested hesitantly.
Ludwig crouched, his eyes narrowing as he examined the marks more closely. His gaze flickered briefly as he activated [Inspect].
***
[Old Forest Lizardman Claw Marks]
Lizardmen are creatures that live in colonies. They have a matriarchal society and are the dominant species in this Half-Artificial Dungeon.
***
A knot of tension formed in Ludwig’s chest. The notification confirmed his worst suspicion.
“It’s worse than a wolf,” he said, rising to his feet.
“What do you mean?” Kassandra asked, her voice laced with unease.
“Lizardmen,” Ludwig replied flatly.
The word sent a ripple of shock through the group. Kassandra’s face turned pale, and several others exchanged panicked glances.
“Lizardmen?” Kassandra repeated, her voice rising. “We can’t fight those things! They’ll tear us apart!”
Her words hit the group like a physical blow. Nervous whispers broke out, the fear in their voices unmistakable.
Ludwig grimaced when she mentioned the last part, there were two reasons, the first, she caused full panic to ensue in the party, and the second reason was that she was right. Not because Ludwig knew or had any knowledge of Lizardmen after all he barely read about a few species of this world, and the Lizardmen weren’t a part of that category.
But from what he knew from his former world, these were basically one of the strong early mobs that all the heroes of his favorite novels fought against.
‘To think that my start wouldn’t be something like a rat, or a goblin, hell even a kobold would have been fine, but lizardmen are more dangerous…’ he cursed inwardly.
“Calm down,” Ludwig said firmly, raising his voice to cut through the noise. “We’re not royally fucked—yet.”
“Yet?” someone echoed, their voice trembling.
Ludwig sighed, gesturing back to the claw marks. “From the looks of things, this claw mark is very old, it’s probably to set up a territory of sorts. If we’re to consider animalistic and territorial nature, they would need to regularly carve these marks, but since this bark is almost healed up, either the lizardmen are not here anymore, or are in hibernation,”
“That’s just a hypothesis,” Kassandra countered, crossing her arms.
“It’s the best I’ve got,” Ludwig shot back. “And unless you have a better idea, we need to keep moving.”
He motioned for Kassandra “A word,” he muttered. She followed him as they stepped away from the group.
“What is it?” she asked, irritation flashing in her eyes.
Ludwig rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“Are you autistic?” he asked.
“Autistic? What is that?” she asked.
“I’m not trying to insult you, or anything, but my guess about the situation is as good as yours. You speaking your mind every time causes nothing but anxiety, sometimes it’s good to keep quiet even if you know stuff beforehand, I get that you’re smart, but you need to know when to hold back. Blurting out every thought isn’t helping—it’s scaring them.”
Kassandra bristled. “I wasn’t trying to scare anyone. I just thought—”
“I know, I brought you here to keep this between us. Remember, we’re all in the same boat, and they,” Ludwig hinted with his head, “Don’t know what to do. I didn’t take the role of a leader because I wanted to, but if I didn’t we’d all probably meet a grim end here. The least I could ask of you is to support me until we’re out of this situation. So please, if you figure something out, you can simply tell me in private Can we agree on that?”
She hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. “Fine. But if things go south—”
“Then you’re free to speak up,” Ludwig assured her. “Just… don’t undermine me unless it’s absolutely necessary. Deal?”
“Deal,” she muttered, glancing back at the group. “You’re more charismatic than I thought. Maybe this leadership thing suits you.”
With that, she rejoined the others, leaving Ludwig to exhale slowly. He drew his ceremonial sword, its dull edge offering little comfort. Lizardmen were supposed to have tough, scaly hides, and some even wielded weapons.
“We’ll rest here for now,” Ludwig announced. “Then we’ll keep moving east. Stay sharp.”
“Uh… I don’t think resting is an option anymore,” Hoyo said, his voice trembling.
Ludwig turned, his eyes widening at the sight before him.
It loomed over them, an imposing figure at four meters tall, easily doubling the height of an average man. Its broad, muscular frame seemed carved from stone, each movement radiating a quiet, lethal power. Blue scales covered its body, catching what little light filtered through the canopy and glinting like polished armor. The rough texture of its hide hinted at years of survival and countless battles. A crude loincloth hung low around its waist, the only semblance of modesty, though its intimidating presence left no room for frivolous details.
A necklace of jagged fangs hung around its thick neck, each tooth worn and weathered, likely taken from prey or rivals. Adornments of bone and claw wrapped around its forearms, marking it as more than just a beast—a creature with purpose and ritual. Its grip tightened around a massive spear, almost as long as the creature itself. The dark wood of the shaft looked heavy and reinforced, while the sharp tip gleamed faintly, clearly designed for a single purpose: to kill. Behind it, a thick tail shifted slowly, its deliberate sway showing restraint like a coiled spring waiting for the right moment to unleash its power.
Its eyes, two piercing orange slits, scanned the group with an unnerving calm. The black pupils contracted slightly as they moved over each person, cold and calculating. Occasionally, a translucent film slid sideways across its eyes, a strange, alien blink that added to the growing tension. It wasn’t just looking—it was assessing as if deciding who among them might be worth the effort of hunting.
Ludwig’s eyes darted across the creature’s form, taking in every detail with sharp focus. His mind raced, but his body froze for just a moment. He could tell, even from this brief encounter, that this wasn’t an ordinary lizardman—it was something far more dangerous.
“How the fuck is this a lizardman?” Ludwig muttered, gripping his sword tighter.
