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

Chapter 633

Mid-afternoon found them cresting a low ridge, and the land ahead looked like someone had dropped a small city into the dirt overnight.

A camp. Not a tidy one. A living one.

Canvas tents and rough lean-tos spread across a wide patch of flattened earth, surrounded by hastily dug trenches and stacked timber. Smoke curled from cookfires. Wagons formed broken circles. Horses stamped and snorted, ears pinned back at the unfamiliar density of bodies. Messengers ran in short bursts, weaving through knots of people like arrows that had forgotten how to fly straight.

It was loud without being chaotic. Movemented, in that ugly way war camps always were, busy because standing still felt like inviting death to sit down beside you.

Soldiers in standardized armor moved in lines, checking weapons, stacking spear bundles, setting up cordon markers. Mixed among them were adventurers, scarred men and women with mismatched gear, odd weapons, and the particular look of people who didn’t belong to a chain of command but still knew how to kill. Some leaned against wagons sharpening blades. Some argued over maps. Some stared east, silent, as if the horizon owed them an explanation.

Ludger’s eyes swept the whole place in a single pass, taking inventory by instinct:

Supplies? Enough for a few days, maybe a week. Discipline? Uneven. Soldiers tight, adventurers loose. Leadership? Present, too many captains, not enough unified doctrine. Morale? High in noise, shaky underneath.

Varik slowed slightly beside him, clearly relieved that the camp existed and clearly exhausted that it had to.

“This is the western containment group,” Varik said, gesturing with two fingers as if labeling a map. “There are three others, north, east, and south. Same idea. Seal the city in from all cardinal directions. Intercept anything that tries to leave. Keep refugees from blundering into the wrong places.”

Ludger’s gaze narrowed, flicking from the camp to the terrain beyond. “And the Lionsguard?”

Varik nodded toward the far side of the camp where a separate cluster of tents had been arranged in cleaner lines, more organized, more defensive.

“The other part of the Lionsguard is going to work in the northern camp,” Varik said. “Alongside Torvares forces.”

Ludger squinted at him. It wasn’t a glare. It was the look Ludger gave plans when he was trying to find the knife hidden inside them. Varik felt it immediately. He raised both hands, palms out, like he was surrendering before Ludger decided to classify him as a political obstacle.

“Don’t,” Varik said, voice tired. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Ludger didn’t stop squinting.

Varik grimaced. “I’m just following orders. And it’s better to split your forces evenly.”

Harold made a quiet sound that could have been an agreement or a warning. Selene rolled her shoulders and muttered, “Evenly split means evenly blamed when things go wrong.”

Aleia’s eyes stayed forward, but her expression sharpened slightly, she was thinking the same thing Ludger was: why the north with Torvares? why not keep Lionsguard concentrated?

Varik kept talking, faster now, like he could outrun suspicion with practicality.

“If you put all of you in one camp, you leave gaps somewhere else,” he said. “Then the monsters break through the weak side, and everyone asks why we didn’t distribute the strongest assets. This is containment. Not a hunt.”

Ludger’s eyes remained narrow, but his voice stayed calm. “Containment fails when the strongest piece gets isolated and crushed.”

Varik’s jaw tightened. “Containment fails faster when one side collapses completely because it doesn't have enough strength to hold.”

For a heartbeat, the two of them just stared at each other, walking in step while a hundred other people rushed past. Then Ludger exhaled once. Not approval. Not surrender. Just acceptance of a reality he didn’t control.

“Fine,” he said.

Varik visibly relaxed by about two percent. “Thank you.”

Ludger’s gaze slid back to the camp. “Where's the command?”

Varik pointed toward a larger central tent with guards posted outside and a cluster of officers around it, arguing over a map like it had personally offended them.

“That.”

Ludger nodded once, already moving. Because whether the split was smart, political, or both… it didn’t matter now. They were here. This was the western line.

And if Rokram was sending hunting parties like patrols, then this camp was either going to become a wall… or a lesson the empire paid for in blood. Ludger didn’t follow Varik toward the command tent immediately.

He let his eyes sweep the camp again, who was where, what banners were flying, who looked competent, who looked like they were going to die the first time something screamed. Then he asked the question he’d been holding back.

“Who gave those orders?”

Varik’s shoulders dropped a fraction, like the question had weight even before he answered. He exhaled. Then sighed. Again.

He caught himself mid-sigh and grimaced. “I swear I sigh too much when I’m around you.”

Selene’s grin flashed. “It’s your soul trying to escape.”

Harold snorted. Aleia didn’t react, but her eyes stayed on Varik. Varik rubbed a hand over his face, then spoke with the blunt honesty of someone too tired for politics.

“No one gave an order to separate you from your guild,” he said. “Not you specifically.”

Ludger’s eyes remained narrow. “Then why?”

Varik nodded toward the camp, toward the soldiers forming lines and the adventurers clustering in loose knots.

“Because this was already assigned,” Varik said. “Before you even left the Lionsguard, I received orders to lead the groups and soldiers in this region, west of Rokram.”

He pointed vaguely toward the land behind them. “This isn’t about you. This is about geography. Command structure. Containment coverage.”

He looked at Ludger, expression tired but steady.

“So you can rest easy,” Varik said. “The Regent didn’t pull this to pick a fight with you like he has nothing better to do in a situation like this.”

Ludger stared at him for a beat, then shrugged.

“I’ll decide that for myself,” he said.

Varik’s mouth tightened, half irritation, half resignation, because that was the problem with Ludger. You didn’t get to declare his trust. You earned it, and even then he kept the knife close.

Harold chuckled quietly. “Fair.”

Cor’s staff tapped once, approval hidden in the sound. Varik exhaled again, carefully this time, like he was trying not to sigh out of spite.

“Come on,” he said, gesturing toward the command tent. “If you’re going to judge intentions, at least do it after you see the map.”

Ludger finally started walking. Not because he’d been reassured. Because maps were honest in a way people rarely were.

Varik led them through the camp like he belonged in it, which, judging by the way soldiers shifted aside and straightened their posture as he passed, he did.

The command center sat near the middle of the containment ring: a larger canvas tent reinforced with timber poles and a low stone berm that had been raised around it like someone had tried to give fabric the dignity of a fortress. Two sentries stood at the entrance, spears crossed, eyes sharp. Varik approached, stopped just far enough to be respectful, and announced himself.

“Varik,” he said, voice firm. “Assigned commander for the western containment.”

One of the sentries blinked, then stepped aside immediately.

Inside, the space was cramped with people and paper. A crude table held a map weighed down by stones. Wax-sealed notes sat in stacks. A pair of officers argued in low voices near the corner. Someone was scribbling casualty projections like it was just another ledger.

The moment Varik stepped through the entrance, a soldier in a captain’s tabard turned and let out a breath that sounded like relief.

“Sir,” the captain said, straightening. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

Varik’s expression didn’t soften, but the tension in his shoulders eased slightly, as if the simple fact of being expected was reassuring. Then the captain’s gaze slid past Varik.

He took a peak at Ludger and the others behind him, Harold’s bulk, Selene’s coiled posture, Aleia’s quiet watchfulness, Cor’s staff and calm. His eyes lingered on Ludger a fraction longer than was polite. Not because Ludger was large. Because Ludger carried himself like someone who didn’t need to be. Varik didn’t comment. He simply moved to the map.

“Report,” he said.

The captain nodded, falling into the rhythm of briefing. “Patrol groups have been rotating through the outer perimeter. No casualties overnight. Villages nearby held.”

Varik’s eyes narrowed slightly. “No casualties?”

“Yes, sir,” the captain confirmed. “Several adventurer groups stayed in the villages, guarded the approaches, kept people from wandering. It discouraged… incidents.”

Harold huffed. “Adventurers doing something useful. I’ll mark the day.”

The captain pretended he didn’t hear that, then added, “Also, some Lionsguard units moved independently to reinforce the village lines. Their presence helped.”

Varik nodded once. “I was informed. That was you,” he said, glancing at Ludger without fully turning.

Ludger didn’t respond, because it wasn’t a brag. It was obvious. Varik leaned over the map and tapped a finger on Rokram’s marker.

“Now,” he said, voice tightening. “Give me details on the situation in Rokram.”

The captain hesitated. It wasn’t dramatic. Just a brief pause, eyes flicking to another officer, then back to Varik, as if he didn’t like the shape of the words he had to say.

Varik noticed immediately. “Speak.”

The captain swallowed. “We’ve been avoiding field confrontations since the night,” he said. “They’re still… dense in the city. Too many to engage directly without getting swarmed.”

Varik’s jaw worked once. “Expected.”

“And,” the captain continued, reluctant, “there are variants inside the city.”

Varik’s eyes narrowed further. “Variants?”

“Yes, sir. Some appear adapted. Different armor ridges. Different movement patterns.” He glanced down at the map as if it might soften the news. “And some… can fire arrows at us.”

The tent went quieter. Not silent, papers still rustled, someone still whispered to a runner, but the air tightened. Selene’s grin vanished. Aleia’s eyes sharpened like she’d just spotted a target. Harold’s hand shifted on his sword hilt without him realizing it. Cor’s expression didn’t change, but his staff tapped once, slower than before. Ludger’s squint deepened. Varik stared at the captain like he was trying to decide if he’d misheard. Then his eyes narrowed into a hard line.

“Arrows,” Varik repeated.

The captain nodded, grim. “Yes, sir. Chitin bows, or something similar. We’ve taken potshots from rooftops and broken windows. They’re not mindless. They’re using elevation. Cover. Range.”

Varik’s face tightened as the implication hit. Organized occupation was bad. Organized occupation with ranged units was worse. Because that wasn’t just a swarm. That was an army building doctrine.

Varik squinted, gaze sliding to Ludger for half a second, like he was remembering every word about sapience and patterns and conspiracy.

Then he looked back at the map and said, quietly, “All right.”

The calm in his voice didn’t mean he was calm. It meant he was trying very hard not to show how much worse this had just become.

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