Blackwater.
One day later.
The military sky port was no longer consumed by chaos.
The raging fires had finally been extinguished.
Thin pillars of smoke still drifted lazily into the sky from scattered sections of the docks, but the worst of the destruction had already been brought under control.
Dozens of engineers moved tirelessly across the battered shipyards.
Hammers rang against steel.
Crates filled with replacement components were hauled from warehouses while teams of craftsmen barked orders back and forth, their voices blending with the constant rhythm of metal striking metal.
The work never stopped.
Where four Imperial warships had once dominated the docks—
only two remained operational.
The third had been stripped nearly to its frame.
Armor plating.
Engine assemblies.
Mana conduits.
Weapon systems.
Every component that could still be salvaged had been carefully removed and repurposed to restore the surviving vessels.
As for the last flagship—
the one Draven had destroyed—
it was beyond repair.
Only its twisted skeleton remained inside the dry dock.
A silent monument to the battle.
Nearby—
Holy Knights boarded the repaired airships.
Priests performed final blessings over supplies and wounded soldiers alike.
Officers reviewed casualty reports one last time before departure.
The atmosphere was heavy.
No one spoke louder than necessary.
No one smiled.
Everyone understood they had suffered one of the Holy Empire's greatest military defeats in recent memory.
At the far end of the central dock—
three figures stood together.
Commander Roland.
Princess Aurelia.
And standing before them—
a broad, stout dwarf with dark reddish-brown hair braided neatly into a thick beard.
His powerful arms were folded across a heavy leather apron stained with soot, oil, and years of honest labor.
Baron Korr Blackhand.
The dwarf stood silently for a long moment, his sharp brown eyes slowly sweeping across the devastated sky port.
Then—
he clicked his tongue.
"...What a damn mess."
His deep voice carried the unmistakable roughness of a craftsman who had spent his entire life beside forge fires and shipyards.
He shifted the enormous hammer resting comfortably across his shoulder.
"I leave for one month..."
"...and somehow you lot nearly manage to destroy my entire dock."
Roland rubbed the bridge of his nose with a weary sigh.
"...It wasn't intentional."
Baron Korr Blackhand snorted.
"Intentional?"
He lifted the head of his hammer and pointed toward the shattered remains of the flagship.
"Does *that* look accidental to you?"
Silence.
The dwarf strode toward the ruined vessel.
Each heavy boot echoed across the metal dock.
CLANG.
He lightly struck one of the warped support beams with his hammer.
The steel groaned in protest.
Korr frowned.
"...Completely ruined."
He crouched beside a shattered mana conduit.
His thick fingers brushed across the fractured crystal housing with practiced familiarity.
"...The entire mana circulation network collapsed."
His eyes drifted toward the exposed engine chamber.
"...Engine core detonated from the inside."
He rose to his feet once more.
"Hmph."
His gaze shifted back to Roland.
"The reports weren't exaggerating."
Roland remained silent.
Korr's eyes eventually settled upon Aurelia.
He studied the young princess for several quiet seconds.
"...You look terrible."
Aurelia offered a faint smile.
"I've looked worse."
The dwarf barked out a hearty laugh.
"Hah!"
"I like that answer."
The amusement quickly faded from his face.
His expression hardened once again.
"But don't mistake surviving for winning."
Aurelia lowered her gaze slightly.
"...I won't."
Korr gave a slow nod.
Then his attention returned to the ruined flagship.
"So..."
"...this was the Demon King's son."
Roland answered quietly.
"Yes."
"And the vampire."
"Yes."
The dwarf scratched thoughtfully at his braided beard.
"...Strange."
Roland looked toward him.
"What is?"
Korr folded his arms once more.
"I've repaired ships torn apart by wyvern breath."
"I've rebuilt hulls crushed by ogre giants hurling boulders."
His eyes settled upon the enormous gash that split the flagship from bow to stern.
"...But I've never seen steel cut this clean."
He traced the edge of the wound with one thick finger.
"No twisting."
"No crushing."
"No blast damage."
"...Just one impossibly clean strike driven straight through the heart of the ship."
Silence settled over the dock once again.
Finally—
Korr let out a slow breath.
"Well."
He hoisted the massive hammer back onto his shoulder.
"I'll rebuild what can be rebuilt."
"The rest..."
He cast one final glance toward the ruined flagship.
"...we'll melt down for scrap."
He started walking away.
After only a few steps—
he stopped.
Without turning around—
he spoke.
"Next time you fight that boy..."
His voice was calm.
"...bring a lot more ships."
A brief pause.
"...And make sure neither I nor my land are anywhere near them."
For the first time that day—
Roland almost smiled.
"...I'll remember that."
The dwarf grunted in satisfaction.
Then continued toward the repair crews.
Within moments—
his booming voice echoed throughout the military sky port.
"You lot!"
"Quit standing around!"
"If you've got time to stare, you've got time to work!"
The engineers immediately scattered back to their duties.
Hammers rang once more.
The reconstruction of Blackwater continued.
---
Not long afterward—
one of the repaired Imperial warships slowly rose above Blackwater.
Its enchanted engines thundered to life.
Deep, resonant vibrations rolled through the hull as the massive vessel climbed steadily into the clouds, leaving the scarred military sky port to shrink beneath it.
Inside the command deck—
officers hurried from station to station.
Mana screens shimmered with streams of navigation data.
Crew members called out reports without pause.
Despite the activity—
the atmosphere remained tense.
At the front of the bridge—
Commander Roland stood with his hands clasped behind his back.
Beside him—
Lucan remained silent.
His eyes never left the endless sky beyond the reinforced viewing glass.
Princess Aurelia stood closest to the forward window.
Her gaze remained fixed upon the southern horizon.
The pilot glanced back from the helm.
"Commander."
A brief pause.
"What course shall we set?"
Before Roland could answer—
Aurelia spoke.
"South."
The bridge fell silent.
Several officers exchanged uncertain glances.
Roland slowly turned toward her.
"Your Highness..."
His voice remained composed.
"...Shouldn't we return to the Empire?"
He gestured toward the status board glowing beside the command platform.
"One warship has been completely destroyed."
"The remaining vessels suffered extensive damage."
"Our casualties are severe."
He met her gaze.
"We are in no condition to continue the pursuit."
Aurelia never looked away from the horizon.
"For weeks..."
"We searched without direction."
Her voice was calm.
"When we finally found the one we were hunting..."
Her hand slowly tightened around the hilt of her sword.
"...he escaped."
A long silence followed.
"And not only did he escape..."
Her golden eyes gradually hardened.
"...we suffered one of the greatest defeats in recent Imperial history."
No one on the bridge spoke.
Every officer remembered the burning flagship.
The screams.
The casualties.
The battle they had barely survived.
Roland finally broke the silence.
"His Majesty's orders were clear."
"We are to return immediately."
"The King himself issued that command."
Only then did Aurelia turn to face him.
Her expression was completely calm.
"So we'll ignore those orders."
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Several officers froze where they stood.
One navigator nearly dropped the crystal tablet in his hands.
Lucan slowly shifted his gaze toward Aurelia.
Roland stared at her for several long seconds.
"...Your Highness."
His tone grew firmer.
"Those are the King's direct orders."
Aurelia met his eyes without the slightest hesitation.
"I know."
Roland frowned.
"Then you also understand what defying them means."
"I do."
Another brief silence.
"But I also understand what happens if we allow him to disappear again."
Her gaze slowly swept across every officer on the bridge.
"If he slips beyond our reach..."
"...how many more cities will suffer?"
No one answered.
Aurelia turned back toward the endless horizon.
"He is wounded."
"So is the vampire."
"They won't remain vulnerable for long."
Her voice remained steady.
"This..."
"...is the closest we've ever come."
She placed one hand gently against the viewing glass.
"We may never have another opportunity like this."
Roland closed his eyes.
For several long moments—
he simply stood there.
When he opened them again—
he released a slow, weary breath.
"...The responsibility will fall upon me."
Aurelia nodded once.
"I know."
Lucan finally spoke.
His voice was low, yet unwavering.
"...I agree with the Princess."
Both Roland and Aurelia turned toward him.
Lucan's eyes burned with quiet determination.
"I lost."
"I couldn't stop him."
His grip tightened around the sword sheathed at his side.
"I won't allow there to be a second time."
Silence settled over the bridge once again.
The pilot looked uncertainly between the three commanders.
"...Commander?"