The pilot snorted into his drink.
Kaelira grinned.
"You're weirdly honest for someone constantly threatening murder."
Aldric stared at her flatly.
"I like giving people accurate expectations."
Kaelira laughed again, as if the situation were entertaining rather than concerning.
Aldric watched her for a second longer before leaning back in his seat with visible irritation.
At this rate, he thought bitterly, they were going to end up collecting every mentally unstable idiot in existence.
Two more days passed.
The airship never slowed.
It continued carving steadily through the sky, cutting across endless clouds without pause.
And inside the control deck—
the pilot was visibly dying.
Dark circles hung beneath his eyes.
His face looked pale and hollow.
Even his usually energetic singing had degraded into weak, half-conscious mumbling between exhausted breaths.
"Iiii don't feeeel the saaaame…"
It sounded less like a song now.
More like a man actively losing a battle against sleep.
One hand still rested on the controls.
Barely.
His movements had slowed noticeably over the last several hours.
Even blinking seemed difficult.
Nearby, Lyriana and the cultist remained seated beside the artifact table, continuing their inspection in silence while glowing runes shifted faintly across the surface of the relic.
Kaelira sat sprawled sideways in one of the nearby chairs, tail flicking lazily while she watched the pilot with growing concern.
Even Aldric had stopped insulting him for at least the last ten minutes.
Which honestly said enough.
The cultist finally lifted her gaze from the artifact.
Her eyes rested quietly on the pilot for a moment before she spoke.
"Miss Lyriana…"
Her voice remained soft and composed as always.
"If this continues, I do not believe the pilot will survive much longer."
The pilot weakly raised a finger without turning around.
"That's… comforting…"
The cultist continued calmly.
"He is only a One-Star mana user. Prolonged strain at this level without rest will eventually kill him."
She paused briefly.
"Physically and mentally."
The pilot nodded weakly.
"Fantastic."
Lyriana's gaze remained on the artifact for another second before she finally answered.
"I am aware."
Flat.
Emotionless.
The pilot looked at her immediately.
"If you're aware," he said carefully, "then perhaps we should discuss the fact that I'm approaching death?"
Aldric snorted softly from nearby.
"You've been approaching death since I met you."
"Not helping."
Lyriana finally lifted her eyes toward the pilot.
Calm.
Still.
Then she spoke.
"Continue forward."
The pilot blinked slowly.
"…What?"
"When the time comes," Lyriana continued, "I will turn you into a vampire."
Silence.
Complete silence.
Even the mana engines humming through the walls somehow felt quieter.
The pilot stiffened instantly.
Kaelira nearly choked on her drink.
Aldric lowered his bottle very slowly.
The cultist remained perfectly calm.
The pilot stared at Lyriana for several long seconds.
Then laughed nervously.
"…Haha."
No one else laughed.
His smile slowly weakened.
"…You're serious."
Lyriana gave a small nod.
"As a vampire, your body will no longer require normal sleep."
A pause.
"You would continue functioning efficiently."
The pilot looked horrified.
"That was your solution?!"
Kaelira immediately pointed at Lyriana.
"See, this is exactly the kind of thing normal people warn others about before staying on this ship."
Aldric let out a short laugh and took another drink.
"Yeah. Let's do that. If he becomes a vampire, he won't need sleep or food and can keep flying without stopping."
He paused, then added flatly:
"Why stop at him?"
The pilot looked genuinely distressed now.
"Hold on—hold on—"
He pointed weakly toward himself.
"We are not skipping directly to that because I'm tired."
Lyriana remained unmoved.
"You are beyond tired."
The pilot opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Then reluctantly muttered,
"…Fair."
But immediately after—
"I can still continue."
He straightened slightly in his seat as if sheer determination alone could prevent his organs from failing.
"No problem."
His eye twitched violently.
"I am completely capable of piloting this ship."
A beat passed.
Then his head dipped forward slightly before snapping back upright.
Kaelira stared.
"…You almost fell asleep mid-sentence."
"I blinked aggressively."
"That's not a thing."
"It is now."
"And just shut it—you're not really helping."
Lyriana had already stood up.
The movement alone was enough to make the room quiet again.
The pilot noticed immediately.
"…Miss Lyriana?"
She walked toward the exit of the control deck without any sign of urgency.
The cultist glanced up at her.
"Are you going somewhere?"
"Yes."
Lyriana reached the doorway before speaking again.
"I will confirm it with His Highness."
Silence settled again.
Kaelira blinked.
"…Confirm what?"
Lyriana turned her head slightly, just enough for her voice to carry back into the room.
"Whether the pilot should be converted now…"
A small pause.
"…or after collapse."
The pilot went completely pale.
"AFTER COLLAPSE?!"
But Lyriana was already gone.
The doors slid shut behind her.
Silence lingered for exactly two seconds.
Then the pilot slowly turned toward everyone else.
"…I would like it officially stated," he said weakly, "that I am against this plan."
Aldric looked thoroughly entertained now.
"Unfortunately for you," he replied calmly, "your opinion has never mattered on this ship."
"WHY DOES EVERYONE KEEP SAYING THAT?!"
Kaelira buried her face in her hands, shoulders shaking with laughter.
The cultist quietly returned to inspecting the artifact, as if nothing unusual had happened at all.
At the far end of the ship, Lyriana continued down the dim corridor toward Draven's chambers, as though she had simply gone to ask about routine logistics rather than someone's potential vampiric future.
The control deck gradually settled back into its uneasy rhythm.
The pilot exhaled shakily and turned back toward the controls.
His hands rested against the steering array while mana-lit displays flickered across his tired face.
The ship pressed forward through the endless skies of Arkvareth.
Steady.
Unstoppable.
And for the first time in a long while, the pilot genuinely questioned every decision that had led him here.
What the hell happened to my life…
A few days ago, survival had been simple—make the right calls, avoid unnecessary danger, stay alive.
Now he was piloting a flying fortress filled with people casually debating whether or not to turn him into something else entirely.
Not metaphorically.
Literally.