The control deck stayed quiet for a moment too long.
That alone answered Kaelira's question.
She slowly sat upright on the chair, ears twitching faintly as her gaze moved between everyone's expressions.
"…Okay."
A pause.
"Why does that name sound like the beginning of a bad decision?"
The pilot snorted softly.
"Because it usually is."
He leaned back lazily in the navigation seat, rotating the map projection with a slow flick of his hand.
The glowing marker over Blackwater pulsed faintly across the display.
"Blackwater's technically part of Kharvos," he explained, "but only technically."
Kaelira frowned.
"…That doesn't sound reassuring."
"It isn't."
The cultist finally spoke from the wall, her tone quiet and matter-of-fact.
"It's a border trade city."
A brief pause.
"A smuggling city."
Kaelira blinked.
"Oh."
The pilot nodded immediately.
"Exactly."
He pointed at the projection.
"Half the people there are merchants."
Another gesture.
"The other half are criminals pretending to be merchants."
A pause.
"Or merchants pretending not to be criminals."
Kaelira slowly folded her arms behind her head.
"…And THIS is where we're repairing the ship?"
The pilot gestured vaguely around the damaged control deck.
"Unless you'd prefer exploding midair somewhere more respectable."
"…Fair point."
Lyriana remained near the viewing glass, silently watching the map projection.
"Won't the ship attract attention?"
The pilot let out a short bark of laughter.
"Lady, this thing already attracts attention."
He pointed upward.
"We look like we lost a war against the sky."
Honestly, accurate.
Scorch marks still covered large portions of the hull, while several damaged mana fins outside sparked intermittently.
The pilot continued.
"But Blackwater is probably one of the few places where nobody asks questions—as long as you pay enough."
The cultist nodded faintly.
"Illegal aerial modifications are common there."
Kaelira hesitated.
"…There are *legal* aerial modifications?"
A beat.
"…Hmph."
"So it will be dangerous?"
The pilot answered immediately.
"Absolutely."
Then, after a second—
"But survivable."
Another pause.
"Probably."
Kaelira pointed sharply at him.
"That word should've been part of the first sentence!"
The pilot ignored her completely.
Instead, he adjusted the navigation array again.
The projected route shifted downward toward a darker region along the western territorial lines.
Outside the viewing glass—
far in the distance—
the shape of the city was already becoming visible through the clouds.
Massive black walls.
Towering industrial structures.
Countless suspended bridges and layered air docks carved into the mountainside itself.
Dark smoke drifted upward into the sky from enormous forge towers scattered across the city.
Even from this distance—
Blackwater looked crowded.
Chaotic.
Alive.
The pilot squinted toward it.
"…Yep."
A pause.
"Still damn ugly."
Kaelira stepped closer to the viewing glass.
"…That place looks like it sells diseases."
The cultist answered calmly.
"It does."
Kaelira immediately leaned in further.
"I like it."
The pilot gave a faint grin for the first time that morning.
"Welcome to Kharvos."
The ship continued its slow descent toward Blackwater.
Outside the viewing glass, dark industrial towers pierced through the cloud layers while massive suspended bridges connected entire districts along the mountainside.
Smoke drifted endlessly into the bright sky.
Mana engines rumbled from distant aerial docks.
Even from afar—
Blackwater felt loud.
Alive.
Dangerous.
—
Meanwhile, far from the control deck—
Draven walked quietly through one of the ship's inner corridors.
The walls still flickered occasionally due to unstable mana circulation, while distant repair echoes drifted faintly from somewhere below deck.
The black cat remained draped lazily across his shoulder.
His hand rose briefly toward the black earring hanging from his ear. Mana pulsed softly through it.
Vaelith's voice responded immediately.
Cold.
Composed.
"My Lord."
Draven continued walking.
"The feed?"
A brief pause.
"The blood reserves prepared earlier have been exhausted."
Faint movement echoed through the mana link.
"The young master and young miss have both stabilized considerably."
Another pause.
"But moving forward…"
Her tone remained calm.
"They should only be fed human blood."
Draven's expression did not change.
"I understand."
Silence lingered briefly through the corridor.
Then Draven spoke again.
Calm.
Measured.
"What was that thing Aldric used?"
The black cat opened one eye briefly.
Draven continued walking.
"It didn't seem like ordinary blood magic."
Another pause.
"The serpent called it Blood Authority."
His gaze shifted slightly toward the damaged mana lines along the corridor wall.
"You saw it too."
Vaelith answered immediately.
"Yes, my Lord."
Draven waited.
After a moment, Vaelith continued.
"What he used was indeed Blood Authority."
Her voice lowered slightly.
"It is… difficult to explain properly."
A pause.
"Blood magic manipulates blood."
"But Authority is different."
The corridor lights flickered faintly overhead as Draven moved forward.
Vaelith continued steadily.
"Authority is closer to a manifested dominion."
"A separate space."
"A domain shaped entirely by the wielder's bloodline, will, and existence."
Draven's eyes narrowed slightly.
"The graveyard."
"Yes."
Another pause.
"It bends itself to the authority owner's nature."
"Their identity."
"Their blood."
Vaelith's tone remained even.
"It exists separately from normal blood magic."
"Entirely separately."
Draven remained silent.
Then—
"Who can use it?"
Vaelith answered without hesitation.
"Pureblood vampires."
The corridor grew quieter.
"Only those born as true vampires can use it naturally."
Another pause.
"Though… there are rare exceptions."
Draven turned a corner smoothly.
Vaelith continued.
"High Bloods."
"Not ordinary High Bloods—true-born ones."
Her tone remained steady.
"In rare cases, vampires who were once human and later turned can produce offspring stronger than themselves."
"Sometimes vastly stronger."
The black cat's tail flicked once.
Vaelith continued.
"A High Blood may occasionally give birth to a Pureblood."
"The probability is extremely low."
"But not impossible."
Draven's gaze remained forward.
"Aldric and Lyriana."
"Most likely born from two High Blood parents."
Her answer came instantly.
"If only one parent were High Blood…"
A brief pause.
"The chance of both children inheriting High Blood status would already be tiny."
"And the probability of both possessing Authority becomes almost nonexistent."
Draven walked in silence for several seconds.
Then—
"So Lyriana possesses one too."
"Most likely."
No hesitation.
Draven's eyes lowered slightly in thought.
"And you?"
A pause.
"Do you possess an Authority?"
For the first time since the conversation began—
Vaelith hesitated longer than usual.
Then she answered calmly.
"I do not, my Lord."
Silence.
"I was not born a vampire."
The corridor remained quiet after that.
Only the faint hum of the damaged ship echoed through the walls while Blackwater slowly grew larger outside the distant viewports.
Draven continued walking calmly, deep in thought.
Behind him—
the black cat slowly opened its eyes again.