On the opposite side of Blackwater's sprawling docking district—
Kaelira and the pilot were already deep in the middle of negotiations.
"—I'm telling you, this isn't just hull damage," the pilot said flatly while gesturing toward the ship looming behind them. "That thing got into a fistfight with the sky and *lost pieces of it.* Multiple pieces."
Kaelira stood beside him with her arms crossed, still looking half-awake, though noticeably more alert now that actual professionals were involved.
The engineers standing across from them exchanged uncertain glances.
Dwarves wearing soot-stained goggles.
Human technicians surrounded by floating tool arrays.
A beastman mechanic with mechanical arms softly whirring as he adjusted his glasses.
One of the dwarves leaned forward slightly, squinting up toward the battered vessel.
"…You're telling me *that's* your ship?"
Kaelira nodded once.
"Unfortunately."
Another engineer let out a long, low whistle.
"That thing shouldn't even still be in the air."
The pilot shrugged.
"And yet here we are."
A pause.
"Still breathing. Barely."
One of the human engineers tapped a floating projection panel, causing a rotating schematic of the damaged ship to appear in the air between them.
"Outer hull reinforcement is almost completely gone in several sections," he muttered while scanning the projection. "Mana circulation is unstable across at least three engine veins…"
His expression slowly worsened.
"And your stabilization fins…"
He paused.
"…Two of them are practically decorative at this point."
Kaelira immediately pointed toward the screen.
"So fix it."
The engineer blinked at her.
"…That's not how ship repair works."
"It is if you don't want it falling out of the sky."
Silence.
The beastman engineer scratched the side of his head slowly.
"To be fair," he admitted carefully, "it *is* impressive the thing made it here at all."
The pilot nodded immediately.
"Yeah."
A pause.
"That part's mostly spite and bad decisions."
Kaelira sighed heavily.
"So can you fix it or not?"
The dwarven engineer folded his arms.
"We can fix it."
A brief pause followed.
"But not here. Not completely."
He gestured toward the ship again.
"That level of mana-core strain requires a proper drydock and a controlled stabilization field."
Another engineer quietly added,
"And a lot of replacement parts you definitely don't want to ask us where we get."
Kaelira narrowed her eyes slightly.
"…Why?"
The pilot answered instantly.
"Because Blackwater."
That somehow explained everything and absolutely nothing at the same time.
One of the engineers finally stepped forward again and tapped the projection panel.
"We can handle emergency stabilization," he explained. "Patch the hull. Rebalance the mana circulation enough to keep it flying safely."
A pause.
"But if you want it *properly repaired*…"
He looked back up toward the ship towering overhead.
"You'll need to commit to a full dock cycle."
Kaelira slowly exhaled.
"So we're stuck here for a while."
The pilot nodded.
"Unless you like the idea of becoming a very expensive meteor."
A long silence followed.
Then Kaelira muttered under her breath—
"…I hate this place already."
And somewhere above them—
the damaged ship creaked softly against the wind, still leaking faint traces of mana into the air like a dying creature barely holding itself together.
The docking platform remained crowded with workers and engineers moving around the ruined vessel while floating repair arrays scanned sections of scorched armor plating.
Steam hissed intermittently from exposed mana vents.
Nearby cranes slowly rotated into position.
Then—
the side hatch opened once again.
Draven stepped out first.
A dark hood now concealed most of his appearance while the black cat rested silently beneath the folds of his cloak.
Nia followed quietly beside him.
Apparently, she had found them somewhere inside the ship and simply attached herself to the group afterward without explanation.
Honestly—
nobody questioned it anymore.
Behind them came the cultist and Aldric.
Aldric's altered appearance still held perfectly beneath the necklace's illusion effect.
No crimson eyes.
No obvious vampiric aura.
Just an extremely irritated-looking man carrying alcohol.
The group approached the others near the repair crews.
Kaelira immediately looked over.
"Where are you all going?"
The cultist answered first.
"We're heading into the city."
Then she looked toward the pilot.
"How long will the repairs take?"
The pilot rubbed one hand against the back of his neck.
"…Hard to say."
He shrugged.
"Depends how much we're fixing."
Another pause followed.
"And mostly depends on money."
Silence.
Draven's hooded gaze shifted calmly toward him.
"Do you have a credit card?"
The pilot answered immediately.
"Yeah."
Then, after a second—
"…There isn't much on it though."
He awkwardly raised two fingers.
"Couple silver."
The cultist stared at him.
"…Only that?"
The pilot immediately lowered his voice.
"Hey."
He cautiously glanced around at the nearby workers.
"Maybe don't say that too loudly."
A pause.
"If people realize we're broke, they won't even touch the ship."
Honestly fair.
Kaelira looked horrified.
"Wait."
She aggressively pointed toward the massive ruined vessel behind them.
"You're telling me we came here with almost no money?!"
The pilot pointed back at the ship without hesitation.
"Do *you* see valuable cargo stored anywhere on that thing?"
Kaelira opened her mouth.
Then closed it again.
"…Fair."
Aldric suddenly grinned.
A dangerous grin.
"Simple solution."
Everyone turned toward him.
He casually took another drink from the bottle.
"Tell them to repair everything."
Silence.
Then—
"When they're done…"
His grin widened slightly.
"…we'll figure something out."
The entire group stared at him.
Even several nearby engineers looked uncomfortable hearing that sentence.
Lyriana slowly turned her head toward him.
The pilot looked genuinely disturbed.
"…Everything you say sounds illegal."
Aldric immediately pointed the bottle toward him.
"You damn bastard."
The pilot raised both hands defensively.
"I'm just saying!"
Kaelira slowly rubbed her face.
"…We're going to get arrested within two hours."
The cultist quietly looked toward Draven instead.
Clearly searching for the only remaining stable decision-maker in the group.
Draven remained completely calm beneath the hood.
Then—
he reached into his coat and pulled out a black metal card.
The pilot blinked.
"…Wait."
Draven looked toward him calmly.
"Bring yours out."
Confused, the pilot still obeyed.
He pulled a worn bronze-colored credit card from inside his coat before carefully handing it over.
Draven held both cards side by side.
Then—
a faint strand of crimson mana gathered at the tip of his finger.
Kaelira immediately leaned forward.
"…What are you doing?"
Nobody answered her.
Draven's finger moved slowly across the surface of the black card.
A glowing pattern began to form.
Numbers appeared.
200
Then he tapped the gold currency sigil beside the silver and copper marks engraved into the card system.
Finally—
he pressed the two cards together briefly.
Flash—
The symbols pulsed once.
Then vanished.
Silence.
The pilot stared down at his card.
Then checked it again.
And again.
Slowly—
his eyes widened.
"…I have two hundred gold."
Kaelira blinked.
"What?"
The pilot suddenly grinned so hard it almost looked painful.
"ALRIGHT."
He straightened up instantly.
"Now *that's* what I'm talking about."
Even the nearby engineers looked significantly more interested now.
Funny how that worked.
Draven calmly handed the card back.
"It should be done within an hour."
The pilot nodded aggressively.
"No problem."
Then he immediately pointed toward Draven.
"See? THAT'S how you handle things."
His gaze shifted sideways toward Aldric.
"Not like some people."
Aldric looked genuinely offended.
"Damn you."
The pilot ignored him entirely before immediately turning back toward the engineers and barking out orders with completely renewed motivation.
Money truly solved most problems.
Meanwhile—
Aldric's eyes had narrowed toward Draven.
"…Where the hell did you get two hundred gold?"
Draven answered without hesitation.
"From the card."
Aldric stared at him flatly.
"…I'm not blind."
Silence.
"I meant whose card was that?"
Another pause.
"And how the hell can you even access it?"
Draven didn't answer.
Which somehow made it worse.
Instead, he simply turned toward Lyriana.
"Lyriana."
Her silver eyes shifted toward him immediately.
"Don't let anyone near the room Vaelith is in."
Simple.
Direct.
Lyriana nodded once.
"I will."
Draven turned away immediately afterward and began walking toward the city.
Nia silently followed beside him at once.
The cultist hurried after them quickly.
Aldric stared at Draven's back for another second before clicking his tongue and following as well.
Kaelira blinked.
"Wait."
She pointed at herself.
"Where are you guys going?"
No answer came.
"…I'm coming too."
She hurried after them immediately.
"It's more fun this way."
Aldric glanced sideways at her without slowing down.
"Come then."
A pause.
"That'll be the perfect opportunity to finally get rid of you."
Kaelira instantly stopped walking.
Then slowly turned around.
"…You know what?"
She pointed back toward the ship.
"Forget it."
A tired laugh escaped Aldric as he continued walking toward the massive industrial streets of Blackwater alongside the others.
Above them—
the enormous city groaned endlessly beneath smoke-covered skies.
Steel frameworks trembled.
Mana furnaces roared.
Distant sirens echoed somewhere deep within the lower districts.
And hidden beneath all the noise, crime, and chaos—
their next problem was already waiting.
---
The currency system within the continent was divided into four levels:
* **100 Copper = 1 Silver**
* **100 Silver = 1 Gold**
* **100 Gold = 1 Platinum**
Which meant the two hundred gold Draven had casually transferred was an absurd amount of money for ordinary people.
Enough to fully repair a heavily damaged ship.
Enough to purchase powerful weapons.
Enough to make Blackwater suddenly become far friendlier than before.