The control deck stayed quiet for several seconds after that.
Only the hum of the damaged ship filled the chamber, a low, steady vibration carried through fractured plating and unstable mana arrays flickering along the walls.
Then the cultist slowly stood up.
Still holding the wrapped artifact.
Her gaze shifted toward Lyriana.
"Then we just need to refuel it."
Before anyone could respond, she casually tossed the wrapped object across the room.
Kaelira flinched violently.
"WAIT—"
But the artifact never hit the floor.
It stopped midair.
Floating.
A soft crimson glow wrapped around it before it drifted gently into Lyriana's outstretched hand.
Smooth.
Effortless.
Lyriana barely even looked at it.
The cultist adjusted her sleeves calmly.
"We should go."
Her eyes shifted briefly toward the lower corridors beyond the control deck doors.
"The engine core is probably starving for mana by now."
Kaelira blinked.
"…You say that like we're feeding an animal."
The cultist replied without hesitation.
"In a way, we are."
Kaelira visibly recoiled.
That answer did not help.
At all.
Lyriana turned toward the exit without another word, the wrapped artifact resting quietly beneath one arm. The cultist followed beside her.
As the control deck doors slid open, Kaelira immediately pointed after them.
"Wait, hold on—why do YOU suddenly know how this ship works?!"
The cultist paused at the doorway.
"I've been trying very hard not to think about that."
Then she stepped out.
The doors closed behind them.
Silence returned.
The pilot slowly opened one eye from his seat near the controls.
"…That's somehow the most concerning sentence I've heard today."
Nobody disagreed.
The ship continued forward through the thinning clouds.
Damaged.
Exhausted.
But alive.
—
The next day.
Bright sunlight spilled across endless layers of white cloud.
The violent vortex storms of the Veil Sea were gone. The silver lightning had vanished. Only calm skies remained, stretching endlessly toward the horizon as warm light reflected off drifting cloudbanks beneath the ship.
The vessel, however, looked far less majestic than the view around it.
Scorch marks covered nearly half its outer hull. Several armor plates along the sides had been replaced with temporary mana seals. One rear mana fin hung slightly crooked, as though too tired to hold itself straight.
And yet—
it still flew.
Steadily.
Cutting through the bright skies toward distant lands ahead.
The Kingdom of Kharvos.
Inside the control deck, the atmosphere had shifted completely.
Quiet.
Tired.
Peaceful in the way only survivors ever managed to feel.
The pilot was finally back at his post after what he repeatedly described as "a spiritually necessary amount of sleep."
He sat at the navigation controls with half-lidded eyes, lazily adjusting floating mana arrays while looking like a man personally offended by employment itself.
"…Left engine circulation stabilizing," he muttered.
"Outer hull still looks like garbage."
A pause.
"But we're not falling out of the sky anymore, so that's progress."
Nearby, Kaelira was asleep across a long chair near the side wall. One leg hung off the edge while her arms remained crossed tightly over her chest even in rest. Her ears twitched faintly every few seconds.
Still alert, somehow.
Impressive, honestly.
Nia sat nearby, quietly reading a small book Vaelith had apparently given her during the night.
The cultist leaned against the far wall with her eyes closed. Not asleep—just still.
Lyriana stood near the viewing glass, watching the bright horizon ahead. Calm as ever. The wrapped artifact remained secured with her.
At the center of it all, Draven sat at the primary control platform.
Blue mana flowed steadily through the navigation arrays beneath his fingers while the black cat rested lazily on his shoulder. It opened one golden eye briefly… then closed it again.
Outside, beyond the drifting cloud layers, the distant lands of Kharvos began to take shape along the horizon.
Sunlight filled the control deck, bathing the damaged ship in a calm, almost unreal stillness as it drifted steadily through the skies.
Unusually peaceful.
No storms.
No ancient calamities.
No screaming barriers.
Just clouds.
Almost suspiciously refreshing.
The pilot adjusted a few floating navigation arrays and finally spoke.
"We'll be crossing fully into Kharvos territory soon."
No one reacted much.
Kaelira remained asleep.
Nia kept reading.
The cultist didn't move.
The pilot continued anyway.
"So… you people should probably start deciding whether we're stopping at the first city for repairs."
That got slightly more attention.
He gestured vaguely toward the control systems.
"I'm not an engineer," he said flatly, "so I genuinely have no idea what's currently wrong with this ship anymore."
A nearby mana array sparked loudly.
"…Which I feel supports my point."
Kaelira stirred faintly in her sleep.
The pilot sighed.
"If we don't get someone who actually knows what they're doing to inspect this thing—"
He pointed upward.
"—there's a very real chance we eventually just fall out of the sky without warning."
Silence.
Then he leaned back in his chair.
"So your choice."
A pause.
"But personally?"
His expression stayed completely serious.
"I really don't want to die."
No one argued with that.
At the central platform, Draven finally stood.
The blue mana around the navigation arrays faded as he withdrew his control. The black cat shifted slightly on his shoulder.
The pilot glanced over.
Draven walked toward the exit calmly. As he passed, his voice dropped into the quiet room.
"Do as you see fit."
The control deck doors slid open.
"But don't waste time."
The pilot nodded once.
"Understood."
Draven paused briefly at the doorway.
Without turning back, he added—
"And if you really don't want to die…"
A faint glance toward the damaged systems.
"…don't try to act smart."
The pilot stared at him for a second.
Then nodded again.
"Will do."
Draven continued walking.
The doors closed behind him.
Silence returned briefly.
Then the pilot leaned back with a tired sigh.
"…Right."
He tapped the floating map projection. Several regions shifted across the display.
"Our next stop will be—"
The map rotated.
A city lit up along the western border of Kharvos.
A major trade hub intersected with aerial routes and mana rail lines.
The pilot squinted.
"…Huh."
A pause.
Then he let out a short, humorless laugh.
"Yeah. That's unfortunate."
Kaelira groaned awake slightly.
"…What now?"
The pilot pointed at the glowing marker.
"Our nearest repair point is Blackwater."
Silence.
The cultist's eyes slowly opened.
Lyriana shifted her gaze toward the map.
Even Nia looked up from her book.
Kaelira blinked sleepily.
"…Why does everyone suddenly look unhappy?"