The 'Lumina Rip' screamed as it fell.
Red warning lights flashing like strobes across the bridge, ear-splitting alarms, and the machine's monotone whisper of "Power Core: Critical Damage" blended into a symphony of hell.
Covered in sweat and soot, I desperately clung to the shattered controls.
The sight of burning Rust Haven, receding outside the window, was seared into my retinas.
Old Man Barney. The warmth I couldn't protect.
Guilt over losing something I had to protect again, and rage at the Empire that burned everything, squeezed my heart like ice.
At that moment, the dazzling lights of a city broke through the thick sea of clouds and into my view.
An artificial city, a chaotic tangle of massive floating islands connected by suspension bridges and giant chains.
A place that glittered like jewels scattered on the night sky. It was "The Golden Crossroads"—Silverin.
"Please...!"
I used the last of my strength to turn the nose.
I couldn't crash into the heart of that glittering city.
What caught my eye was the city's outermost edge, a place shadowed by scrap heaps piled up like mountains.
The only landscape I knew, the one I had lived in for ten years.
I aimed for it and prepared for a crash landing.
KRAANG—
With a horrific tearing sound, the 'Lumina Rip' slammed into the scrap heap.
The impact threw me hard against the pilot's seat.
Then, as my consciousness faded, the last blue light illuminating the bridge slowly died, and everything was consumed by darkness and silence.
* * *
I don't know how much time had passed.
"Damn it...!"
When I finally regained consciousness and staggered toward the engine room, a curse escaped my lips before I knew it.
The beautiful crystal core, which had glowed with blue light, was now deeply etched with spiderweb-like cracks. Through those fissures, blue Aether was leaking out, like the blood of a living creature.
I instinctively gripped the Sky Hammer on my back.
Isn't the Rust Haven way to fix a broken machine by beating it senseless?
But looking at this delicate crystal device, I couldn't bring myself to swing the hammer.
This was a problem I couldn't solve with the methods I knew.
My heart ached as if my homeland's legacy, my only hope, which I had regained after ten years, was shattering before my eyes once again.
But I couldn't just collapse.
Grieving was a luxury.
If Old Man Barney's death and the ashes of Rust Haven had taught me anything, it was that the survivor must keep moving forward.
This was the neutral trade city, 'Silverin'.
I'd heard it was a massive hub where all the sky's goods and technicians gathered.
If anywhere, this was the place I could find a way to make the 'Lumina Rip' fly again.
I grabbed a few broken parts and a data chip recording the core's status, and headed toward the Silverin city center.
*
The moment I left the scrapyard, I came face-to-face with a completely different world.
Unlike the eternal twilight of Rust Haven, this place was bright as day, lit by an artificial sun.
Overhead, the low hum of well-maintained Aether freighters mixed with the 'hiss-hiss' of steam from impatient steam-taxis, creating the city's vibrant background noise.
The streets were surprisingly clean, and flashy holographic billboards glittered endlessly, advertising drinks and luxuries I'd never seen before.
And people in neat, colorful clothes—nothing like mine—scurried past, glancing at me like I was some strange insect.
The air didn't stink of Rust Haven's ingrained grease; instead, it carried the scent of exotic spices and sweet, high-grade fuel.
Everything looked vibrant and prosperous, but I could feel an invisible wall beneath it all.
Somehow, this place felt like it might be even more suffocating than Rust Haven.
I sought out the largest workshop, one marked with the official seal of the 'Aether Technicians' Guild'.
A crest showing a perfect, circular brass cog protectively enclosing a stably glowing blue Aether crystal at its center.
It carried an arrogant message: 'Technology controls chaos'.
And it was a clean, massive building of glass and steel—nothing like Old Man Barney's junk shop.
The moment I stepped inside, I almost stopped breathing.
The walls were covered in tools, all sorted by size without a millimeter of error. The floor shone like a mirror.
And there was no smell of oil here, only the cold scent of disinfectant.
"What is your business, miss?"
A technician in a spotless, grease-free uniform asked, looking me up and down.
His eyes were filled with open suspicion at my ragged clothes.
I ignored it and held out the parts and data chip I'd brought.
"I need an airship repaired."
The technician took the parts, examined them for a moment, and frowned.
"I've never seen parts like these. What company are they from? There's no Guild certification mark."
"It's an ancient relic. Made in Arkelos ."
At my words, the technician's expression turned cold. He set the parts down as if he had touched something filthy.
"These are non-standard components. My apologies, but per Guild regulations, we cannot repair uncertified ancient technology. We cannot guarantee its safety ."
"I asked if you could fix it. I didn't ask for a safety guarantee."
There was an edge to my voice. The technician sighed, looking at me as if I were pathetic.
"A vessel like that isn't a ship, miss. It's a monster. The wisest choice for everyone would be to dismantle such a dangerous object immediately and sell it for parts."
His words were polite, but their content was cold as a blade.
I stormed out of the workshop, spitting a low curse.
"Damned rule-worshippers."
If this were Rust Haven, I'd have already smashed my fist into that smug face.
I searched for other workshops. But the answer was the same.
"Per Guild regulations..."
"Without the certification mark..."
"That kind of dangerous scrap heap..."
To the technicians of Silverin, the 'Lumina Rip' wasn't a wondrous ancient relic.
It was just dangerous, incomprehensible, unprofitable junk that existed outside their rules.
Hope was rapidly turning to despair.
In Rust Haven, strength and skill were everything. But here, rules and certification were everything.
I was a complete stranger in this golden city.
*
Completely exhausted, I slumped down in a shabby tavern in the lower district. This place, untouched by the artificial sun of the upper levels, was filled with eternal shade and damp humidity. The tavern reeked of cheap booze, sweat, and a sour stench of despair.
Then, through the loud music and drunken ramblings, the conversation from a table of old pilots next to me caught my ear.
"Tsk, tsk... those old geezers at the Guild don't know anything. All they talk about is rules, regulations. They don't care how the real sky works."
"You said it. The real genius was that kid, Leon. If he were still around, this problem would've been solved ages ago."
"You mean that lunatic? He got kicked out of the Guild ages ago. Probably off making some crazy invention by himself in the scrapyard right now."
Leon.
I shot up from my seat. That name was my last lifeline.
I tossed a few gold coins onto their table and spoke.
"This Leon you mentioned, where can I find him?"
A heavily bearded pilot looked me over and scoffed.
"Why would a little lady like you be looking for that weirdo? If you get involved with him, your airship's liable to snap in two."
"My ship's already halfway there. It can't get any worse."
My curt reply made the pilot chuckle with interest.
"Got some nerve, don't you. Alright. Go to the deepest part of the scrapyard, to the place they call the 'Dead Man's Hangar.' If the door's closed, pound on it like it's the end of the world. Then you'll get to see the face of that foul-tempered genius."
I returned to the dark, damp scrapyard.
After asking around, I finally stood before a massive, abandoned hangar in the deepest, most remote corner.
Through the cracks of its tightly sealed doors, a rhythmic mechanical noise and a flickering blue flame leaked out like a haze.
Without hesitation, I pounded on the heavy steel door. A moment later, an irritated voice yelled from within.
"No solicitors! I don't need any more scrap, so get lost!"
"I'm here to get my ship fixed!"
At my shout, the noise inside stopped for a moment.
A short while later, with a heavy screech, the door opened, and a young man appeared.
This must be Leon Bright.
His dark brown hair, which looked like he'd given up on tidying it, stuck out in every direction. His sharp jawline and high nose made for a handsome face, by anyone's standards, but he seemed completely unconcerned with it.
Over his work clothes, faintly stained with grease and soot, a pair of brass goggles with multiple lenses rested on his forehead.
But the most striking thing was his eyes.
Gray eyes, intelligent enough to pierce through anything, yet filled with a cynicism that seemed weary of the entire world.
He looked me up and down, then spoke with annoyance.
"I don't take in scrap heaps the Guild rejected. It's a waste of time."
"My ship isn't scrap. It's an ancient airship from Arkelos. The 'Lumina Rip' ."
At the word 'Arkelos', his gray eyes wavered for the first time.
He stared at me for a moment, then gave a reluctant nod.
"...Show me."
I led him toward the 'Lumina Rip'.
When he came face-to-face with the Lumina Rip, he scanned the ship's elegant hull and crystalline alloy armor with eyes full of wonder.
He brushed his fingers across the smooth surface and muttered, as if to himself.
"Unbelievable... This isn't modern technology. It's living metal!"
He recognized this ship's value in an instant.
I felt a surge of hope.
He examined the damaged power core for a long time, then asked with a serious expression.
"When the engine first stopped, how did you handle it?"
I answered honestly.
"To be honest, I almost took this to it a few times," I said, patting the Sky Hammer on my back. "That's usually how most things get fixed."
In that instant, all the interest and wonder vanished from Leon's face.
All that remained was a cold, sharp contempt.
He stared at me as if I were some kind of vermin and murmured in a voice like ice.
"...A barbarian."
"What?"
"To think of beating a sacred machine, an ancient legacy... with that ignorant chunk of metal? I have nothing more to say to someone like you."
He turned away decisively.
Despair welled up in my throat at his sudden action.
I couldn't let him go. I grabbed his arm desperately.
"Wait! I'll pay you whatever you want! Everything I have! Or... I'll do anything you ask! Please... this ship is everything to me!"
Leon coldly shrugged off my hand. His gray eyes showed no sign of wavering.
"It might be everything to you, but it isn't to me. I won't waste my valuable time on a barbarian who doesn't even know how to properly treat a sacred relic."
With those words, he disappeared into the darkness.
Utterly devastated.
My last hope was walking away, becoming a shadow of contempt in the distance.
Thump—
Left alone in front of the half-destroyed 'Lumina Rip', I slumped down onto the cold, dead scrap heap.