The carriage pressed on, wheels cutting deep into the dirt as it left the mountains behind. Five hours had passed since their departure, the familiar peaks of the Stellar Range reduced now to a faint silhouette. Even the tallest ridges were little more than shadows against the horizon, soon to vanish altogether.
Inside, most of the passengers knew little of the world beyond their home. The shift in terrain made the journey feel like a crossing into another realm. The dense forest had fallen away, replaced by open grasslands stretching wide in every direction.
Pools of water dotted the fields, their surfaces broken by reeds and tall grass swaying in the wind. Solitary trees stood scattered, their roots sunk deep in the mud, reminders of the forest they had left behind.
The carriage pushed through it all with steady speed, leaving a trail carved in wet earth. Above them spread a vast blue sky, clean and sharp, where the horizon seemed to fold land and air into one line. The sun blazed at its center, unchallenged and unshaken, bathing the scene in stark brilliance.
Among those inside, one pair of eyes had not drifted from the view. From the moment the carriage left the mountains, Lucien had been absorbed in the scenery. Every shift in the land, whether harsh or serene, was taken in without haste.
Nothing escaped his notice. He studied it the way a painter studies his canvas, dissecting detail without judgment.
No image repelled him, none inspired joy. He accepted what lay before him as it was. At times, he found some details worth admiring. At others, he marked them as curious, or useful. Sometimes, a sight struck deeper—something worth thought.
Now, as the plains stretched under a boundless sky, it was the sky itself that caught his attention.
When I was a child, I used to look at the mountains and the vast, unbroken sky above them. It gave me a feeling I could never explain — part fear, part fascination, part unease. It felt as if the sky might consume me whole. My body reacted as though it already had, a strange wave running through me. Perhaps it was nothing more than a child’s instinctive response to the unknown.
The sky was endless in every direction, and though it was above, it felt like a bottomless pit. Something too great to be touched, too vast to be conquered.
Imagine the sky as a ladder of power.
Ordinary birds remain on the lower rungs, surviving by instinct, wings made for endurance.
Predators — ice hawks, yeller eagles — climb higher, lifted by strength and sharper will.
Wyverns and other such monsters, with magic in their veins, ascend further still, crossing boundaries no mortal bird could endure.
Dragons, ancient and absolute, dominate the upper reaches, their flight fueled not by instinct alone, but by will and power older than memory.
And yet, above even the dragon’s flight, the sky stretches on. Endless. Untouchable. No matter how high they rise, the sky denies them a crown.
That is the truth of power. Each rung climbed is only a reminder of how far the ladder continues. The sky never ends. The struggle never ends.
Of course, I am aware of the myths. Gods of every kind, said to reign over the sky. But I have seen none of them, and know too little to speak with certainty. It is not my place to make claims about them.
My mother once told me a story, though. In the age of gods, a river was said to flow across the sky, circling the earth. Mortals prayed for it, and one god brought it down to the land. Which god it was, I cannot recall. A pity… but perhaps not important.
He lifted his eyes again, letting the silence draw out as the carriage rattled beneath him. The sky held his gaze longer this time.
Without intending to, he murmured aloud, his voice carrying just enough for the others to hear:
“How must it feel… to fall from this vast and endless sky?”
A silence followed before Ultimare broke it as if he was looking for something like this to cure his boredom, a faint smile curling his lips.
Ultimare: “Most wouldn’t notice the wind. They’d be too busy screaming, drowning in their own panic. A few might ride the thrill of it, some might faint before reaching the ground. Different reactions, same end—the body breaks when it hits.”
Finn: “Which is why falling is rarely pleasant. Unless one can control the descent—or walk away from it alive. Without certainty, it’s only chaos.”
Arika leaned forward slightly, hesitant but thoughtful. “I cannot speak for the sky, my lord… but I have leapt from tall trees. At first, I froze, as if my body had forgotten how to move. Then there was a spark, like lightning, through me. Later, it dulled. What was once fear became almost… ordinary.”
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Pelta: “From what I’ve seen, falling is remembered less for the air or the height than for how it ends. People speak only of the moment of impact.”
Ultimare: “A fair point. The fall itself is nothing more than the path.”
Lucien: “Then perhaps it depends on how one meets it. If they fall in fear, it is punishment. If they fall in relief, it is release—like stepping out of a prison.”
Finn: “A prisoner of the sky. An unusual angle… but fitting.”
From the corner, Max stirred awake, his voice groggy. "Hey, can’t a man get some sleep without the whole carriage turning into a noble lady’s tea party?"
Finn: “Sleep? What kind of sleep were you having with all that rattling and movement?”
Max stretched with a groan, grinning lazily.“ Oh, come on. What do you expect? This isn’t my personal, perfectly fluffed bed. Obviously, I’m going to suffer a little. My back’s already staging a rebellion, by the way. And let’s be honest—how am I supposed to carry out this super-important mission without my beauty sleep? It’s unfair to me… and to the mission.”
Pelta began evenly, “I believe Brother Alaric designed these seats for comfort. The mechanism—”
Ultimare cut her off with a dry tone.“Leave him. He’s an idiot. The more attention you give him, the worse it gets.”
Arika nodded without hesitation.“I agree with Lord Ultimare. I haven’t known him long, and he’s already unbearable.”
Finn: “Look at that, Max. Even someone who just met you is siding with Ultimare. Try to behave.”
Max clutched his chest theatrically.“Hah. So cruel. You wound me. Anyway, what did I miss? What’s the big topic?”
Arika: “Master Lucien asked a question. We were—”
Max waved her off. “A question? A quiz? Oh, good. My turn, then. Who flies faster—uh… a phoenix or… wait, wait… it’s on my tongue… ah! A dragon!”
Lucien’s gaze didn’t shift from the sky. His voice was steady, detached. “Phoenix. Faster, more skilled in flight. Dragons are direct, powerful, capable of flying for months without rest. Some with sentience and power rarely use their wings except to make an entrance.”
Ultimare: “There’s your answer.”
Max: “No, no, no. That wasn’t an answer.”
Pelta: “How come? That was a valid answer to the question.”
Max: “So you’re siding with them, huh? Fine. I get it. Nobody wants to play. I’ll just go back to sleep.”
Arika: “How much longer are you going to sleep? It’s already been six hours.”
The bickering inside the carriage was cut short when Lucien noticed the change outside.
The mist was thickening at an unnatural rate, rolling over the plains like a tide. It closed in fast, as though swallowing them whole. He scanned it carefully, but no trace of magic stirred within the fog.
Minutes passed. The mist only grew denser.
Lucien: “Eisen, can you see through it?”
Eisen shouted back from the driver’s seat.“Not a chance. This stuff’s too thick, and it’s getting worse. I’m just following the map Pelta gave me.”
Finn: “Strange. Mist doesn’t form like this on open plains.”
Lucien: “No, it doesn’t. Max, remove it.”
Max leaned out the window, raising a glowing hand. “Alright, let’s clear this up.”
Blue light swelled from his palm, bright enough to blind. But nothing changed. The fog stayed, heavy and unmoving.
Max: “Not working. If this were water vapor, it’d be gone already. There’s no form of water I can’t bend. That’s supposed to be my specialty.”
Ultimare: “It doesn’t feel like magic either. Likely an ability. Which means this is a trap. The question is—whose?”
Finn: “Is it set for us, someone else, or just a general snare?”
Pelta: “Predatory traps make little sense here. Too few travelers pass through. A random snare is unlikely. Given our secrecy, the odds of it being aimed directly at us are also low.”
Ultimare: “Which leaves the simplest answer—we’ve stumbled into a trap meant for someone else. Eisen, avoid following the map for now. If there’s surveillance set up here, we haven’t triggered it yet. Don’t head toward towns. Stay clear.”
Eisen: “There’s another problem. The grass. It’s growing thicker. Sharp enough to cut the horses.”
Finn: “That’s concerning. These horses are bred for endurance. If the grass can harm them, it’s been enhanced. I could destroy it, but that risks drawing attention. If we’re not the target, engaging unnecessarily is foolish.”
Eisen’s voice sharpened.“They’re getting restless. I can barely hold them steady.”
Lucien’s tone was even.“Follow my directions. I’ll guide us somewhere quieter.”
He closed his eyes and activated his True Perception. The fog peeled away in his mind’s vision, replaced by a clear map of energy signatures.
He traced the weave of the land, noted the human presences scattered through the fields, their mana marking surveillance posts.
Lucien guided Eisen toward a swampy stretch far from those points. Within minutes, they reached it.
Lucien gave brief orders—Eisen and Ultimare tended the horses until they calmed.
Lucien: “Pelta. Stealth mode.”
Pelta: “Yes.”
With a gesture, she activated the mechanism. The carriage, horses and all, shimmered out of sight.
Pelta: “We can remain like this for seven hours without strain.”
Finn: “So we just sit and wait for this to pass?”
Lucien’s eyes were calm, his tone absolute.“No. Arika—based on what I’ve taught you. What should be our course?”
Arika straightened, answering with conviction.
“First, analyze. Break down the possibilities, the mechanics, and the intent. Second, determine whether it’s targeted or indiscriminate. Third, respond in the most efficient way. If violence is the most direct solution, use it. But avoid wasteful conflict if possible.”
Lucien: “And in this case?”
Arika paused, then answered firmly.“Strategic violence. Hunt the source while remaining unseen.”
Lucien’s eyes narrowed in approval.
He stepped from the carriage, as he was about to fade into the mist.
Ultimare: “Should I join? I’m bored. Two would make it faster.”
Lucien glanced back once, his face unreadable.“No.”
Ultimare: “Come on, let me have some action as well ”
Lucien looked at him once,“ not yet” and disappeared without any sound.
two chapters a week without any issues. I’ve built up a good backlog, so no more stressing about weekly uploads.
what should the next extra be about
