The man didn't answer.
Not with words.
His hands were already moving.
Across the console, switches flipped in rapid sequence.
Runes ignited one after another.
A low hum stirred beneath the deck.
Faint at first.
Then steadily building.
The airship responded.
Slowly.
Like something waking from a long, unnatural sleep.
The man's eyes darted across the instruments, reading them with practiced urgency—pressure lines, mana flow, stabilizers, engine integrity.
His breathing steadied as focus replaced fear.
"…Engines are intact," he muttered under his breath. "…Outer hull took damage, but nothing critical…"
A lever shifted.
**THRUMMM.**
The entire ship vibrated.
Below, deep within the vessel, the runic engines roared to life.
Aldric leaned lightly against the side wall, arms loose, watching.
Not impressed.
Just waiting.
Lyriana stepped closer, her gaze flicking once to the dead pilot, then returning to the man at the controls.
"…How long?" she asked.
The man didn't turn.
"…Five minutes to full lift," he replied. "…Less if I push it."
Aldric scoffed lightly.
"…Then push it."
The man's jaw tightened.
"…If I push it too hard, the stabilizers might fail."
A brief pause.
"…And we all die."
The cultist raised a brow.
"…I'd rather not explode today."
Vaelith remained silent, her gaze moving between the console, the man, and the subtle fluctuations in mana output.
Lyriana's voice came again, calm and steady.
"…Two minutes."
The man hesitated.
Then nodded once.
"…Two minutes."
His hands moved faster.
Runes flared brighter.
Mana surged through the system in visible waves, blue light racing across the control panels like veins coming alive.
Outside, the massive airship groaned.
Anchors began to release.
**CLANG.**
One by one, the restraints securing it to the dock disengaged.
The vessel shifted slightly in response, a heavy, deliberate movement that rippled through its entire frame.
Below, the ruined port burned.
Smoke curled upward in thick columns, and flames spread across shattered stone and broken structures.
From the deck, it already looked distant.
Smaller.
Like something being left behind by inevitability.
Inside the control room, tension held firm.
Not explosive.
Controlled.
Tight.
Measured.
Aldric's gaze drifted briefly toward the horizon, then returned to the man.
"…You've got one job," he said.
A pause.
"…Don't fail it."
The man didn't look back.
"…I don't plan to."
The engines roared louder.
The ship trembled harder.
Then, slowly, it began to rise.
At first, the ascent was uneven, the frame groaning under shifting weight and pressure adjustments.
Then it stabilized.
The hum of the engines deepened, settling into a consistent, controlled rhythm.
Vaelith stood near the rear of the control deck, her fingers lightly touching a small earring.
A faint pulse of mana flickered through it.
A connection.
"…My lord," she spoke softly after a moment.
A brief pause followed.
"…We've found the port."
Her tone remained calm. Measured.
"…We've taken control of an airship. We are already airborne."
Silence answered her for a moment.
Then she inclined her head slightly.
"…Understood."
The connection faded.
The cultist leaned in immediately.
"…Ma'am? What did the lord say?"
Vaelith lowered her hand.
"…He'll arrive in twenty minutes."
Aldric blinked.
"…Twenty minutes?"
He straightened slightly, brows knitting together.
"What the hell is he doing taking his time?"
A short scoff followed.
"…What the hell is he even doing down there?"
Lyriana didn't respond.
But her gaze shifted faintly toward the horizon behind them, thoughtful and unreadable.
The pilot—still at the controls—glanced back for just a second.
Not enough to draw attention.
But enough for his thoughts to slip.
*Lord…?*
So there was someone above them.
A higher authority.
A real one.
A quiet breath escaped him, almost relieved.
*Good…*
*That means this gamble worked.*
Because if they were waiting for someone like that, then he still had value.
Vaelith's voice cut through his thoughts.
"Focus."
He stiffened immediately, turning back to the controls.
"…Yes."
A pause.
Then she continued, her tone unchanged.
"Scan the engine."
Her eyes shifted toward the open sky ahead.
"…And report fuel capacity."
The man swallowed once and complied, hands moving across the panel again.
He checked the gauges. Mana reserves. Conversion flow. Storage core stability.
His expression shifted slightly as he processed the readings.
"…Fuel is stable," he said after a moment.
A beat.
"…We have enough for long-range travel."
Aldric raised a brow.
"…Define long-range."
The man hesitated, then answered carefully.
"…If we maintain normal cruising speed—"
His fingers tapped lightly against the display.
"…We can remain airborne for at least three days."
Silence.
The cultist blinked.
"…Three days?"
Aldric let out a low whistle.
"…Just three days."
The airship hummed steadily beneath them, but the tension had not eased in the slightest.
"…Three days," Vaelith repeated softly.
Not impressed. Not surprised.
Her gaze remained fixed on the horizon, as though she were already measuring distances beyond what they could see.
"…That won't be nearly enough."
Aldric glanced at her.
"…So?"
Vaelith didn't look at him.
"…Stop the engines."
A brief pause followed.
"…We'll gather mana ore from the other ships… and the warehouse."
Simple. Absolute. Already decided.
The pilot hesitated for only a fraction of a second before nodding quickly.
"…Understood."
The engine output decreased slightly. The deep hum softened as the vessel shifted into a controlled hover above the ruined port, its massive frame stabilizing in place.
No one objected.
Because there wasn't a better option.
Lyriana turned first.
"…I'll check the warehouse."
She was already moving as she spoke, stepping away without waiting for agreement.
Already done with the conversation.
Aldric exhaled through his nose.
"…Then we'll take the ships."
He jerked his head slightly and started walking.
The cultist followed beside him with her arms crossed.
"…You mean you'll take the ships," she muttered. "…I'll be the one doing the actual searching while you pretend you're accomplishing something useful."
Aldric shot her a sideways glance.
"…Why do I always get stuck with this damn rat?"
The cultist stopped half a step.
"…You should stop calling me a rat."
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"…And it's not like I like being with you either."
A brief pause.
"…I'd rather be with the lord right now."
Aldric snorted.
"…Freak."
She clicked her tongue.
"…Idiot."