Seraphina moved at a breathtaking pace. Rickard and Diva maintained their strides with practiced ease, but Ector found himself lagging a few steps behind. The woman was undeniably a Royal Ranker, though her exact station remained a mystery. She carried herself like a personal servant, yet her crisp military uniform proved she wasn't commissioned by the local Adventurer Society.
As they walked, the trio passed an array of architectural marvels: towering glass domes and massive, oval-shaped structures that bore an unsettling resemblance to the entertainment slave pits back in the capital. Despite the grandeur, Ector noticed the flagship was still firmly anchored.
"Why haven't we set sail yet?" Ector called out to Seraphina's back. "Aren't we supposed to be in a hurry?"
"We are currently acquiring a few essential supplies from your local markets, Your Highness," Seraphina replied, her pace never breaking. "Specifically, a handful of Royal and Noble Rank soulless cores."
Diva raised an eyebrow. "Why bother? Doesn't the Motsari Corporation own an entire Divine Rank warped space? You could easily harvest hundreds of Royal cores and thousands of Noble cores every decade."
"One can never have too many assets, can they?" Seraphina countered smoothly. "The Sanguine Sword has a habit of hoarding. He always says, 'We never know when we might need them.'"
Ector frowned. "You do realize that resource hoarding is strictly illegal on Terra, right?"
"And we are not citizens of Terra, nor of any other planet," Seraphina answered, a hint of amusement in her voice. "We are an independent entity holding sovereign territories across the realms. No mortal law applies to us—unless, of course, an Almighty gets particularly cross."
Rickard chuckled softly, a strange look of familiarity crossing his face. "The ship has grown significantly since I last saw her, Sera."
"Yes, Vincent decided it was time she became completely self-reliant," she replied, using the Emperor Ranker's given name for the first time. "He spent nearly three decades engineering an artificial river of mana to fuel the core indefinitely. It cost us a pristine Divine Rank core to stabilize it."
Ector glanced between them, his curiosity piqued. "You two know each other?"
Rickard coughed into his fist, looking slightly uncomfortable. "She... well, she happened to be my grandfather's girlfriend once upon a time."
Diva broke her usual stoic composure, her eyes widening. "Your grandfather?"
"Oh, yes," Seraphina reminisced casually. "Back when I was still a fresh Noble Ranker. Little Rick's grandfather and I dated for a few decades. It was just a temporary arrangement, really."
Ector threw his aristocratic etiquette to the wind. "Just how old are you?"
"My, asking a lady her age?" Seraphina chided, turning her head to flash a sly, dangerous smile. "You have much to learn regarding manners, Your Highness."
Both Ector and Diva turned their eyes to Rickard, silently demanding an answer.
"She's a thous—" Rickard began, but his words were abruptly cut short as a localized sphere of water materialized around his mouth, completely muffling his voice.
"How terribly rude," Seraphina purred. Her eyes glinted with power as a massive barrage of weapons forged from condensed seawater rose from the ocean behind the docks, all pivoting to point directly at the butler.
Instantly, Rickard threw his hands up, using his cloud affinity to manifest a tiny white flag above his head.
"Very well. Refrain from repeating that mistake for the next fifty years, and you may keep your head," Seraphina said, dispersing the water with a casual snap of her fingers.
They finally approached the central palace. It was a monstrous structure, completely eclipsing the Sun Kingdom's royal residence at a staggering forty kilometers in length and thirty kilometers in breadth. Five massive spires flanked a grand central pavilion, surrounded by lush, manicured gardens and a sprawling, crystal-clear lake.
Suddenly, the harbor vibrated. A colossal dome of azure mana erupted from the hull, enveloping the entire floating city to shield it from atmospheric drag and ocean currents. The flagship surged forward, accelerating to a velocity that seemed impossible for a vessel of its size. At this speed, they would reach Daro in a mere two weeks.
Under normal circumstances, continental teleportation portals would have been utilized, but the forest orcs had grown terrifyingly cunning; they had targeted and dismantled the portal network first. Their sudden tactical brilliance made the total eradication of their species a matter of absolute urgency.
The Imperial Sun Kingdom ships tracking alongside them were massive in their own right and technically capable of moving faster, but overtaking the crown jewel of the Motsari Corporation was a political and military blunder no commander dared to commit.
Worse still, the capital's response to the crisis had been completely paralyzed. For reasons unknown to the public, the arrogant Prince of Flares was currently visiting Daro, demanding the full attention of the regional, Royal-ranking Adventurer Society Director. Left without their highest authority, the citizens of Daro were furious. A rebellion against the unresponsive capital was entirely possible, though for now, the immediate threat of the invading orc horde kept their blades pointed outward.
Seraphina led the group into the palace's grand hall. Rather than a traditional throne room, the space had been converted into a massive, high-tech war room. Twenty individuals sat around a long, polished obsidian council table. These twenty adventurers were all mid-to-high Noble Rankers, with one peak Noble Ranker commanding the center.
Sitting in the seat of honor was a man built like a fortress. Though shorter than the giant Hakon, he stood a solid six feet tall—a height chosen by personal aesthetic preference rather than genetic limitation. He wore simple, unadorned tunics of muted pastel tones, and his hair was styled in a sharp military buzz with a slightly longer crest down the middle. His chair bore a subtle, golden tint, distinguishing him from the rest of the council.
Seraphina gestured for her guests to halt near the entrance while she glided over to the man. She leaned down, whispering quietly into his ear before stepping back to stand at his right shoulder.
"Welcome to my ship, Your Highness," the man said. He didn't bother to rise from his seat.
"Please, the pleasure is entirely ours, Lord Motsari," Rickard smoothly interjected, stepping in to salvage the etiquette before Ector could take offense.
The man's eyes shifted to the butler, a faint glimmer of recognition passing through them. "We meet again after a long time, Rickard. Sera, please escort our guests to their quarters."
Ector bristled, thoroughly disliking the implication that he was being sent away like a child before the real meeting could begin. "Mind if we join the council, Mr. Motsari?"
Vincent looked at the young prince for a long moment, then gave a slow, deliberate nod. He signaled Seraphina, who tapped a holographic utility interface mounted on her forearm. The obsidian table seamlessly elongated, and three plush chairs rose from the floorboards to accommodate them.
"Everyone, this is the Crown Prince of the Sun Kingdom, Ector Calmon Dior," Seraphina announced as the guests took their seats. "He and his guard serve as our official royal escort for this campaign—a secondary objective."
She then turned to Ector, gesturing toward the gathered warriors. "And these are the Silverwing Knights. They are the Noble Rank party officially assigned alongside the Sanguine Sword to eradicate the forest orcs."
One by one, the members of the Silverwing Knights stood to offer their formal respects to the prince. They were not a traditional knightly order bound to a single throne, but a premier adventuring party that had climbed the ranks from the very bottom, earning honorary knighthoods from various kingdoms across Terra. The Society had handed them this grueling mission because of their vast experience in handling massive campaigns where enemies numbered in the millions.
Ector noted the party's diverse makeup. Among the humans sat two stout dwarves, a high-ranking merfolk, and, most surprisingly, a Draken. True Drakens were exceptionally rare, rarely leaving the sacred home planets of the dragons. This particular dragon-human hybrid bore an aura of immense pressure, clearly marking him as the vice-captain of the party.
Yet, the most famous figure at the table remained their captain: Greg Vivan. Born to a humble family of common fishermen, Greg had managed to awaken a remarkably mundane soul core—the Core of the Nets. It was a basic utility core typical of a coastal labor family. However, through sheer grit, Greg had risen to the apex of the Noble Rank and married the Crown Princess of the Midnight Empire, effectively elevating himself into foreign royalty.
Every member of the Silverwing Knights stepped forward to formally introduce themselves to Ector—except for the Draken and Greg. The dragon-hybrid merely offered a rigid, respectful nod from his seat, while Greg simply stared cold holes through the prince before turning his gaze back to the tactical maps projected on the table.
"We will make landfall in two weeks," Vincent announced, cutting through the heavy silence as Ector settled into his chair. "The majority of the journey will be spent traversing open water before we dock at the nearest coastal city. From there, we will march inland toward Daro. Our maritime route dictates that we will pass directly over several ocean-bed warped spaces. Two of them are confirmed Royal Rank, and one is a volatile Divine Rank. The rest are common fodder. Provided the Imperial Navy hasn't completely fucked up their border containment again, we should enjoy a relatively uneventful voyage."
***