The moment her fingers touched it—
the hum shifted.
Responding.
Recognizing.
Her eyes flickered faintly—
mana brushing against the surface—
testing—
feeling.
Understanding.
"…A space artifact…"
Quiet.
Measured.
Not surprise.
Assessment.
Then—
movement.
The small slime resting in her arm—
reacted instantly.
It quivered once—
then sprang.
A soft, fluid motion—
landing against Draven's chest.
Clinging.
Then—
slipping.
Melting into the folds of his cloak.
Gone.
Aldric blinked once.
"…Huh."
A faint smirk.
"…Guess it missed you."
Draven didn't react.
Didn't even look down.
Lyriana, however—
watched the movement closely.
Not the slime.
But the *ease* of it.
Then her gaze returned to the artifact.
Focus sharpening.
"…Is it incomplete."
A statement.
Not a guess.
Her fingers adjusted slightly along its surface—
tracing unseen lines.
"…Or restricted."
A pause.
"…It can do more than this."
Draven stared.
"…Guess."
Flat.
"…That's why I brought it."
Silence settled briefly—
but this time—
it wasn't empty.
It was building.
Because now—
they had something worth understanding.
And someone who could.
The ship continued north—
steady—
uninterrupted—
carrying all of it forward.
Lyriana's fingers continued to trace the surface—
light—
precise—
testing the response of the artifact with controlled strands of mana.
Her eyes narrowed slightly—
focus deepening.
"…It's not responding fully."
Quiet.
"…There are gaps."
Aldric leaned lightly against the side panel—
watching with mild interest.
"…So it's broken?"
Lyriana didn't answer him.
Didn't even look his way.
Because Draven spoke first.
"…No."
Flat.
Certain.
Her gaze shifted to him.
Draven met it without pause.
"…There's no restriction on it."
A beat.
"…You just don't know everything it can do."
Silence.
Not defensive.
Not dismissive.
Just… truth.
Lyriana held his gaze—
measuring that.
Then looked back at the artifact.
Draven continued.
"…I can't explain it all."
A slight tilt of his head.
"…Not properly."
Another pause.
"…So figure it out."
Simple.
Direct.
Instruction.
Lyriana's fingers stilled for a moment—
resting against the surface.
Then—
slowly—
they moved again.
More deliberate now.
Not just testing—
*studying.*
"…Understood."
Calm.
Focused.
No hesitation.
Because that was enough.
Aldric let out a quiet breath through his nose.
"…Great."
A faint smirk.
"…So we've got a mysterious space artifact nobody fully understands."
A glance toward Draven.
"…And we're just going to let her experiment with it."
Draven didn't look at him.
Didn't respond.
Which—
was answer enough.
Aldric chuckled under his breath.
"…Yeah. Sounds about right."
The pilot stayed silent—
hands steady—
but his ears caught every word.
Because even he understood—
this wasn't normal.
Lyriana adjusted her grip slightly—
mana threading more carefully now—
slower—
deeper—
probing the internal structure.
The artifact responded with a faint shift in its hum—
subtle—
but alive.
Vaelith watched quietly from the side—
eyes thoughtful—
children still resting undisturbed in her arms.
And Draven—
just stood there.
Not watching closely.
Not interfering.
Because for him—
this part was already decided.
He brought it.
Now—
it was hers to understand.
The control deck held steady—
low hum of the engines—
soft glow of mana lines running through the panels—
but the air inside it—
shifted.
The pilot's hands stayed on the controls—
steady—
trained—
but his eyes… moved.
Just slightly.
A glance—
quick—
careful—
toward the back.
Toward *him.*
*The lord…*
His grip tightened almost imperceptibly.
*Demon king's son…*
The thought didn't finish.
Because Draven's gaze met his.
Not sharply.
Not threatening.
Just—
there.
For half a second.
The pilot froze.
Breath catching—
shoulders stiffening—
waiting.
For something.
Anything.
But Draven looked away.
Like it didn't matter.
Like *he* didn't matter.
And somehow—
that was worse.
The pilot swallowed—
forcing his focus back to the controls—
eyes forward now—
locked in place.
Not looking again.
Not risking it.
Behind him—
Draven spoke.
Calm.
Unbothered.
"…You."
A slight tilt of his head—
toward the cultist who had just entered.
She stopped immediately—
straightening.
"My lord."
Draven's gaze shifted briefly to Lyriana—
still working—
still immersed in the artifact—
then back.
"…Stay with her."
A pause.
"…Assist."
Simple.
Clear.
The cultist blinked once—
processing—
then nodded quickly.
"Yes, my lord."
No hesitation.
No complaint.
She moved immediately—
stepping beside Lyriana—
eyes lowering to the artifact.
Careful.
Respectful.
"…If there's anything unstable," she said quietly, "I'll help regulate the flow."
Lyriana didn't look at her.
Didn't acknowledge her verbally.
But she didn't reject it either.
Which—
was acceptance.
The artifact pulsed faintly between them—
mana threading through it—
more controlled now—
more deliberate.
Two minds.
One studying.
One supporting.
Aldric watched the setup—
arms loosely crossed—
a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
"…Look at that."
A quiet exhale.
"…Teamwork."
Draven didn't respond.
Didn't even glance his way.
His attention had already moved on.
Because for him—
this was done.
Handled.
Behind them—
the ship cut cleanly through the sky—
heading north—
and whatever came next—
they were already moving toward it.
The hum of the control deck faded behind them as Draven turned.
Lyriana's hand extended—
his bow and gloves resting across her palm.
Clean.
Maintained.
Untouched by the chaos that had come before.
Draven took them without a word.
His fingers wrapped around the grip—
familiar—
steady—
like reclaiming something that had always been his.
The black cat shifted slightly atop his head—
adjusting—
unbothered.
The slime remained hidden within his cloak—
still.
Lyriana's gaze lingered for half a second—
then returned to the artifact.
Already gone from the moment.
Draven stepped away.
Vaelith fell in beside him—
silent—
children resting peacefully in her arms.
Aldric followed behind—
hands loose—
eyes drifting—
until they settled.
And stayed.
A pause.
Then—
"…Alright."
Aldric's voice broke the quiet—
slow—
disbelieving.
"…I didn't say anything before…"
A step closer.
His eyes moved over Draven—
top to bottom.
The oversized robe.
The uneven fit.
The way it dragged slightly—
folded—
adjusted—
but still clearly not his.
"…But what the hell are you wearing?"
No restraint.
No filter.
Just blunt.
Draven kept walking.
Didn't slow.
Didn't react.
Aldric clicked his tongue softly.
"…Seriously."
A faint smirk tugged at his lips.
"…You look like you robbed a corpse and didn't bother checking the size."
Vaelith didn't look at either of them—
but there was the faintest shift in her gaze.
Acknowledgment.
Nothing more.
Draven finally spoke.
"…It's a magic item."
Flat.
Aldric blinked.
"…That thing?"
A short glance again—
re-evaluating.
"…You sure?"
Draven adjusted the sleeve slightly—
the excess fabric shifting—
settling better along his arm.
"…It'll do."
A pause.
"…For now."
Aldric huffed a quiet laugh.
"…Right."
A beat.
"…Guess we're trusting 'for now' fashion choices."
No response.
Draven kept moving.
Unbothered.
Because to him—
it wasn't about how it looked.
Only what it could do.
And behind that calm—
there was already a plan forming.