The Pilot's Love Song

Let's embark on this shitty journey. This isn't just a departure; it's an elegantly disguised banishment. The world, feigning ignorance, casts us aside, worn and used, as it selfishly prospers. Just as it has always done, discarding those it no longer needs, moving forward with a clear conscience, gazing at the future. And we, the discarded, have no choice but to start anew in a penal colony, overlooked by all. This is a tale that begins at the end. A journey to the Edge of the Sky, where we don't even know if it exists. Let everything disappear.

The west wind swept by, and the sea surface suddenly came alive.

Sprays rose from the lead aircraft of the aviation commissioner. This signaled the three squadron leader planes waiting behind to start their engines, and as they did, ripples spread outward, lighting up twenty-four hydrogen battery stacks waiting in a fan-shaped formation behind them.

All twenty-eight tandem-seat El Alcon marine combat airships kicked up the sea surface with the roar of their main wing rotors, sending myriad water droplets into the air, which scattered the sunlight and cast a pristine rainbow bridge.

Despite the sunny weather, Caruel Albus opened the throttle with a heavy heart.

The commissioner's aircraft ascended vertically first, followed by the squadron leader planes. The sea roared, sprays rose, and a thin white mist formed over the ocean.

Caruel increased the pitch. The two rotors protruding from the fuselage roared as the aircraft slowly ascended vertically. While listening to the humming of the hydrogen battery stack, he glanced back at the rear seat. His companion and adoptive sister, Ariel Albus, was looking straight at him with sparkling eyes. She was oblivious to her brother's hollow feelings and openly expressed her excitement about the journey with bright words that flowed easily from her smiling lips.

Let's go!

Caruel's mouth twisted into a grimace. Evincing a sense of weariness in his expression, he then firmly regripped the control stick.

Even if we head out, we're not getting anywhere.

He muttered softly.

We've been abandoned.

At an altitude of 1500 meters, he spat out those words and pushed the control stick forward. The control stick, similar in function to a car's steering wheel but used for three-dimensional maneuvers in a combat aircraft, was manipulated by pulling or pushing. The hydrogen battery stack whined even louder, and the rotors, which had been facing upwards, tilted forward. What was initially a lifting device now switched to a propulsion device. However, lift force wouldn't accumulate immediately. El Alcon, dipping its nose, slid diagonally while gaining the necessary airspeed and accumulating lift on its wings before transitioning to horizontal flight.

If one looked back, the ocean below was covered with fine spray, appearing white. From within this narrow mist, the following aircraft, like ducklings, popped up one after another, switching their rotors to propulsion after achieving the necessary altitude, and began to form up in the air.

A squadron of twenty-eight seaplanes, with the chief commissioner's aircraft at the lead, in nine groups of three in a V-formation, flying over the deep blue ocean.

A perfectly coordinated formation flight . . .

Or so one would wish to say, but minor disturbances were occurring throughout the formation. The squadron leaders and other aircraft were piloted by 15-year-old students of Cadoques High School Aviation Department , so some disorder was inevitable. Despite numerous rehearsals for today's launch ceremony, they were still cadets and fledgling combat pilots, not yet fully adept at maneuvering their combat aircraft.

Eventually, a faint outline of land appeared ahead.

Fireworks burst forth about 7000 meters away, where the Isla Airborne Knighthood's regular forces, who had advanced earlier, were circling above the departure ceremony venue.

And then—Caruel's eyes caught the sight of an island floating in the air, overwhelmingly large.

Hovering at an altitude of about 2000 meters, this massive rock formation projected its enormous outline into the landscape, casting a shadow several times its own surface area onto the ground below.

Isla.

The whisper came from the back seat. Ariel's voice, still unabashedly excited, reached him.

From now until further notice, Caruel and his companions will live here on Isla, the flying island.

It had a top surface area of 243 square kilometers, 9 kilometers east to west, 25 kilometers north to south, and a circumference of about 70 kilometers.

Ten years ago, they succeeded in capturing this floating island, which had appeared out of nowhere and the destination was unknown. Thousands of wires were hooked onto Isla's surface and lower rock stratum using aircraft, tethering it 2000 meters above the ground. Since then, geological surveys, component analysis, propulsion device installation, construction of six gun emplacements, residential areas, and harbors for aerial ships have been done in preparation for this day.

The extensive survey and modification work, involving hundreds of thousands of workers and tens of thousands of flying machines, concluded two years ago.

Since then, sundry political maneuvering had taken place among the three major powers across the seas, resulting in a murky intermingling of dark schemes. Finally, today, with joint technical and financial support from the three powers, they had set off on a voyage to discover the Edge of the Sky.

To understand the true nature of this world.

To find the end of the Great Waterfall.

To discern what part of the myth of creation by Saint Aldista was true and what was fictional.

To discover what lies beyond the sea, whether there are continents or islands inhabited by humans other than the three known nations: Ballesteros Republic, Saikoku, and Imperial Benares. What kind of terrain lay where the Great Waterfall ends? Did the endpoint of the vast expanse of sky and sea even exist?

To answer all these questions that dwell in the minds of all living in this world, Isla, carrying Caruel and his companions, embarked on a potentially decades-long journey.

This is so stupid.

A murmur involuntarily escaped from Caruel's lips.

Are you still complaining by any chance?

From behind him, Ariel's incredulous voice called out.

You're so stubborn. Why so gloomy? If you don't want to go, just jump off here. Then I'll take the controls.

Ariel's words, clear and direct, came through the intercom unceremoniously. Caruel then turned his sullen face towards the back seat.

I didn't say I didn't want to. I just said it was ridiculous. I've accepted this a long time ago.

Oh, really? Hmm.

What kind of response is that? And just so you know, I'm not giving up this seat. You just sit quietly behind me. Got it?

As he issued this naturally commanding order as her older brother, Ariel immediately retorted by sticking out her tongue.

Hmph!

Caruel snorted and turned his gaze back to the direction they were heading.

Directly below the aircraft was already land.

Looking down, the land was filled with a vast expanse of wheat fields, their color resembling fox fur.

Wheat ears waiting for harvest stretched endlessly across the coastal plains, softly undulating with the wind from the sea before bowing down all at once. It was winter wheat, sown in autumn and harvested in late spring. The shadows of the aircrafts raced across the sea-like fields of wheat like wild foxes, as the sounds of fireworks and the cheers of the crowd gradually became clearer.

Soon, the formation arrived directly above the Wind Revolution Memorial Park.

Wow, amazing!

Ariel's excited voice came from the back seat.

Look! Wow, this is incredible, everyone looks so happy!

You're so loud!

Caruel gruffly scolded Ariel who was pointing ostentatiously at the crowd below and getting excited.

Cheers erupted from beneath Caruel's feet.

Thousands of citizens, young and old, waved their hands, sending their admiration to the formation of cadet pilots, while children reflected the color of the sky in their admiring eyes.

This was the venue to celebrate the departure to Isla, which opened just last year. The ground was neatly paved with cobblestones, and amid the packed central square with its lush greenery, there were revolutionary monuments, memorials, and artificial ponds.

Leaving this park and heading northwest for about twenty kilometers along the arterial road led to the capital of Ballesteros Republic, Alexandra. From Caruel's current altitude, the headquarters of the Church of Saint Aldista, Carrera Cathedral, could be clearly seen overpowering the surrounding buildings, while other stone structures were only vaguely visible against the horizon. Even a city of over three million people looked tiny from the sky, like a child's toy.

Hmph.

In Caruel's gaze towards Alexandra, hatred, sorrow, and a sense of inferiority intermingled. By scoffing, he vented these negative emotions, suppressing the pain within him as he smoothly entered a gentle right turn following the squadron leader's aircraft.

I wonder where our family is. Can you see them?

Ariel's relaxed voice came from the back seat.

There's no way we can see them with so many people.

Yeah . . .

Ariel looked down somewhat sadly. Just as Caruel had said, it was impossible to make out individual faces in the crowd looking up. Among them were Ariel's father and two sisters, who had allowed her to embark on this journey.

Unfazed by the winds buffeting the aircraft, Ariel stretched her neck to look down at the ground, shouting and waving her outstretched hand.

Daaad! Sisteeers! Thanks for everything! We'll definitely, definitely, be back, so please wait for us!!

Caruel silently took in his sister's shout from behind him.

After wiping her eyes once, Ariel turned her face back to the cockpit with a bright voice thrown towards her adoptive brother's back.

I yelled on your behalf, too.

. . . Yeah.

Are we going to scatter them soon?

Yeah.

Here goes.

With a cry like an old lady, Ariel cradled a cardboard box that had been at her feet onto her lap. The box was stuffed full of strips of paper made by all the students of the aviation school.

The chief commissioner's aircraft once again directed its rotor upwards, slowing down the speed.

Although slowing down was a tricky maneuver for a rookie, Caruel managed to switch the rotor to lift mode and, by tilting the aircraft forward to gain thrust, slowed to forty kilometers per hour, following the squadron leader's plane in a slow circle above the audience. Cheers erupted, reaching the cockpit through the aircraft as twenty-eight battle planes awkwardly but uniformly circled the same spot.

And just like that, confetti spilled from the rear seat of the commissioner's aircraft.

Taking that as a cue, the students following behind also began scattering items they had prepared towards the ground in unison.

Yaaahooo!

Ariel energetically threw the contents of the box outside. The pure white confetti swam through the air currents, gently drifting down over the heads of the spectators against the blue sky.

A particularly loud cheer pierced the sky, and Ariel got even more excited.

Wow, amazing, the confetti is so pretty! Everyone looks so happy! Cal, look how beautiful it is! Dad and the others must be enjoying it too!

. . .

Oh, I need to scatter some more! Yaaah! Woahhh! Uhhhh-yaah!

. . . Hey, Ari, can't you come up with something more refined to shout?

Take this, woahhh. . . ! Huh? Did you say something?

. . . Never mind.

Hey, why are you so gloomy? Everyone’s having such a great time. Don't tell me that you think being all cynical makes you a cool guy. What are you, dumb? That's not cool at all.

Caruel's mouth twisted with bitterness. He seemed about to retort but swallowed his words, instead letting out an exaggerated sigh.

. . . It’s impossible for you to grasp how I feel. I envy your carefreeness. You probably don’t have a worry in the world.

I sure don’t. Ugh, you're so annoying, Cal. You’re always sulking, it’s so uncool. You won’t be popular at the new school with that attitude.

. . . I’m not going to school to be popular. I’m going there to become a fully-fledged pilot. Stop chatting and just scatter everything already.

Here goes! Heyah, yah, take that!

. . . Why can’t you just do it quietly . . . ?

Woah, that’s it. All gone. It felt good to dump everything we had!

What, why are you wiping your mouth with your arm? Stop it, Ari, it’s kind of vulgar.

Just as he was admonishing his sister, a tremendous roar distinct from the cheers erupted from the ground.

The roar of the lifting devices enveloped the heavens, reaching clear to Caruel who was exposed to the outside air. Below, the sea of spectators seemed ready to be enthusiastic again.

From somewhere midway between Isla and the ceremony venue, a thick cloud of dust was rising.

The airspace vibrated intensely. Within the ash-gray haze, a massive black object began to rise.

And then―the curtain of dust and dirt suddenly split open.

Through the fissure, a steel leviathan sluggishly revealed its imposing form, trailing a cloud of dust.

Its gleaming, curved body. Four gigantic lifting devices that seemed capable of blowing away an island. From the thick steel-armored sides, several crescent-shaped scales protruded, each base hosting ominous-looking gun turrets with black muzzles. The roar of the lifting devices dispersed the cotton clouds, and its enormous shadow loomed, wavering hazily in the distorted space.

It's huge!

Ariel's cheerful voice came from the back seat. Caruel nodded involuntarily.

It was approximately 260 meters in length, with a displacement of about 65,000 tons. Forty-six-centimeter triple main turrets on both sides with a range that exceeded 30,000 meters. Two fifteen-centimeter triple secondary turrets fore and aft, twelve anti-aircraft turrets with twenty-four barrels, fifty-eight anti-aircraft machine guns with one hundred seventy-four barrels, plus four anti-aircraft turrets with eight barrels and five anti-aircraft machine guns with fifteen barrels on the bottom of the ship.

The super-dreadnought aerial battleship, Luna Barco.

Astonishingly, this massive battleship boasted by Ballesteros Republic was setting off into the sky today, as an escort for Isla. The Ballesteros government, advancing a cooperative stance with the neighboring great nations of Saikoku and Imperial Benares across the sea, demonstrated their goodwill by offering their prized national military asset.

Isla Airborne Knighthood, flying single-seat warplanes, directly protected―known as close cover―the area around Luna Barco. To avoid the turbulent air that commonly occurred around flying warships, the inexperienced students maintained a low-speed flight about a thousand meters away from the ship.

While the previously scattered confetti still drifted in the airspace, Luna Barco slowly passed over the ceremony venue, its steel underbelly exposed to the spectators.

Buried in the shadow of Luna Barco, the crowd sent a jubilant cheer to the battleship. The sound of the lifting devices thundered across the ground. The sight of the 65,000-ton steel behemoth effortlessly soaring with hundreds of warplanes in its wake was truly a sight to behold.

And then . . .

Finally, the thousands of steel cables that had tethered Isla to the ground were disconnected. The hooks at the ends, pre-rigged with explosives, detonated, leaving them hooked into the rock while the cables fell towards the ground.

Six massive propulsion devices attached to the lower rock formations of Isla began rotating their four-bladed propellers with a thunderous roar.

The flying island began to move slowly.

The directional rudders, attached to the lowest part of the rock formation and measuring 220 meters in length, creaked. Some of the propulsion devices increased their rotation speed, causing the island to turn right.

Thick steel cables plummeted one after another, about two thousand meters down into the red earth, embedding themselves deeply. Thousands of jagged marks were etched into the land, and clouds of dust billowed from the soft ground. Far above, Isla, seemingly without indifferent, shook off what had tethered it to the ground for roughly a decade, as if discarding an irksome burden.

The rotation ceased, and the humming of the propulsion system halted momentarily.

The primary fortress cannon was positioned at the forefront of Isla―Golion, its massive barrels now pointed southeast. Invisible for now, but by nightfall, the fixed star Etica, which these barrels aim towards, will be visible. This will remain Isla's unchanging course for years to come. As dictated by the creation myth, Isla would relentlessly pursue Etica.

The bow of Luna Balco pointed towards Isla. Caruel and his companions still flew close cover, following the airship, with their backs turned to the spectators.

The cheers started to fade away. The land where they grew up recedeed into the distance behind them.

In the front view, Isla loomed larger.

What previously seemed like a flying whale, the Luna Balco, now reduced to a mere flying locust before Isla's presence. The natural scale difference between the man-made Luna Balco and the naturally-formed Isla was to be expected, yet Isla's grandeur was inexplicably magnificent.

The flagship accompanied by twenty-seven El Alcon aircraft, ascended diagonally into the sky.

Altitudes rose to one thousand five hundred, two thousand, and two thousand five hundred meters. The hydrogen battery stacks groaned under the strain. Though the El Alcon's official maximum altitude was three thousand five hundred meters, it seemed this height was its actual limit.

As Caruel spiraled upward, he glanced down at Isla's upper surface, the land where they would soon make their home.

Apart from the fact that it always soared at an altitude of two thousand meters, Isla's nature was no different from a secluded island in the sea.

There were mountains, plains, pristine lakes, dense green forests, verdant farmlands, lemon-colored cityscapes, two airfields, a central government building, a knights' residential area, and port facilities, with six cannon batteries. Brand new structures connected by pristine white roads, and at the edge of the view, the Cadoques High School, where Caruel and his companions would soon be attending, lined up its ivory-colored buildings.

At the outer edges of Isla, ten thousand relocated residents crowded. Looking down at the distant land, they knew they couldn't be seen, yet they waved to their families, friends, and acquaintances on the ground below, tossing flower petals, confetti, and paper streamers into the air.

Carried by various emotions into the sky, these colors fluttered down. Perhaps through these scattering hues, the feelings of those present conveyed a subtle sadness to Caruel's heart. However, Ariel in the seat behind him, oblivious to such sentimentality, cheerfully pointed at a particular spot on Isla and called out excitedly.

Look, the bigwigs!

Following Ariel's pointing finger, Caruel's gaze shifted to the right end of Isla, at the Van Vire Military Port—though it served solely to tether Luna Balco in mid-air—where a group of people stood, observing the ceremony site from afar.

These were the nobles and high officials who would govern Isla for the years to come. All were dressed in white military caps and matching pristine white uniforms, with gleaming sabers at their waists, standing in two neat rows like statues, their spines ramrod straight. Among them should be notable figures like the great navigator, Luis de Alarcon, who discovered the Holy Spring, and the former head of the Old Cathedral Knights, Leopold Merce, central figures in the Quartet Council.

And there, distinctly out of uniform, stood one individual at the center.

Noticeably smaller in stature compared to the surrounding soldiers and nobles, dressed in a white jacket with a thin silk overgarment. Long silver hair fluttered in the wind.

Caruel's entire body bristled. His eyes seethed. From the depths of his brain, a current of hatred coursed through his nerves, and the cells of his body screamed for revenge.

Nina Viento.

His hands, gripping the control stick, began to sweat involuntarily. If there had been a machine gun trigger on this stick, he would have undoubtedly pressed it. If possible, he would have riddled that woman with bullets with his own hands.

The long silver hair he hadn't seen in six years . . .

That day, Nina Viento's hair, reflected the flames that consumed Alexandra Palace. Today it was full of spring sunshine, her expression as nonchalant as it was six years ago, merely fluttering in the gentle breeze.

Engraved in Caruel's retina was the scene from that day . . .

The night of the revolution, when he lost his father, his mother, his home, his status, and his true name.

With eyes devoid of any emotion, she gazed down at Caruel and his parents, seemingly uninterested as the night wind swept over her. She was the Wind-Calling girl, Nina Viento.

He remembered the crowd armed with farming tools, raising a tumultuous noise. How the crude laughter and the smell of cheap liquor filled the air. The iron tool that struck his father’s back, and his mother’s forced posture. How his throat-tearing screams were met only by the jeers of vulgar mobs. And the taste of Nina Viento's shoe he was forced to kiss, as his hair was brutally grasped.

The pain resurfaced.

Memories were still sharp and painful, from the pit of his stomach to the tips of his fingers, severely raced through him, almost making Caruel double over.

But he gritted his teeth, his eyes widened. He lifted his strained face as if pulling out a stake. Since that day, not a single day had passed without him remembering his hated foe, engraving her image into the hypothalamus. He squeezed out every last drop of hatred from his brain marrow, deeply embedding it into the carved figure.

. . . I'll make her suffer just as I did.

Lose everything, be discarded, be trampled by everyone.

. . . Nina Viento. You alone, I will never forgive.

Every sentiment of departure, gratitude toward his adoptive father, and thoughts for the journey ahead were all consumed by his hatred for Nina Viento. Caruel let his molten emotions seep into every cell of his body, his shadow-filled gaze pierced into the frail back and silver hair of the Wind-Calling Girl.

No matter how long the journey is, I will never let go of this hatred. I want her to live alone on the small island with no escape, be ostracized, have her status taken away, and be made fun of by everyone. She too can experience the hell I went through. I'll laugh when I see her crying face. And I'll stomp on her with everyone. No matter what she does, whether she asks for forgiveness or mends her ways, I will never, ever, ever forgive you― not in this lifetime.

. . . Mother, please watch. I will avenge you against that detestable enemy who treated you like livestock.

I will inflict the same humiliation you endured upon them.

. . . And with that, may you rest in peace.

The El Alcon squadron hovered above the high officials. Turning their noses toward the Wind Revolution Memorial Park, they silently bid farewell to the spectators.

It was uncertain if they would ever return to this land. The likelihood of never returning was higher. Ahead lay only the boundless ocean and waterfalls with no visible ends, and the fixed star, Etica.

Everyone aboard Isla looked back at Ballesteros with silent emotion.

Among them, Caruel alone glared at Nina Viento's back.

With the six propulsion devices re-engaged to the island's lower rock bed, the sky trembled, and thousands of confetti raced through the azure, propelling Isla southeastward.

To find the place where the sea ends, the Edge of the Sky.

. . . You should only look towards the light.

As Caruel looked down at the fading ground below, his mother's words suddenly crossed his mind.

But for now, those words passed by Caruel meaninglessly, just like the sound of the wind.

The row of fir trees stretched endlessly into the horizon.

Vivid green leaves sparkled under the December sky like stardust, bouncing off the sunlight.

Exhaling white breaths, Carl La Ile, the first prince of the Ballesteros Empire, pedaled his bicycle down the tree-lined road.

The pristine white cobblestone was perfectly maintained without a crack or pebble in sight, and without a single pedestrian to obstruct him. Unhindered, Carl gasped for breath as he pushed the pedals of his shiny silver bicycle with all his might.

No matter how much he pedaled, the row of firs seemed endless. Slightly weary of the vastness of the garden, Carl focused only on moving forward, letting the hem of his plush fur coat flutter in the wind and his child-sized hunting boots press against the pedals, maintaining his speed as he raced through the tree-lined road.

Passing by the statues of past heroes and beyond a couple of fountains, the white exterior of the main palace, where Carl's father, Emperor Gregorio La Ile, resided and governed, came into view.

The seven-story building, viewed from above, was U-shaped with the main house at the center and wings on either side, spanning about 250 meters in length. Turning left just before the solemn main palace, Carl turned his back to his father’s residence and continued pedaling.

The palace grounds extended about nine kilometers north to south and about six and a half kilometers east to west, effectively making it all Carl’s backyard. It was not uncommon for him to get lost while cycling in his own garden. He started riding a bike at the age of six, but he had occasionally found himself wandering through unfamiliar woods, unable to find an exit, just like today if he wasn't careful. Somehow, he had managed to avoid the dishonor of getting stranded in his own garden, but now the dishonor of being late for dinner loomed large. Despite being only nine years old, determined to uphold the honor as the first prince of the Ballesteros Empire, Carl was desperately pedaling toward his mother.

The long avenue of trees came to an end, revealing a grand chapel built by two thousand craftsmen for the sole purpose of his parents' wedding long ago. Passing the arched entrance, a massive opera house that could accommodate three thousand people loomed ahead. Ignoring it, he crossed a brick bridge over an artificial stream and, without returning the occasional polite nods from the nobles—who numbered over seven hundred high officials and their families residing within the palace—continued pedaling his bicycle, his face contorted as he gazed at the darkening sky.

Mother.

His voice was a murmur thick with urgency. The one thing he dreaded was dissapointing his mother. Resenting his followers who had abandoned him in the forest and returned ahead, Carl pressed on determinedly toward the distant villa.

Located about two kilometers from the main palace, Chico Puerto Detached Palace was where his mother, Empress Maria La Ile, resided.

Unlike the earlier palace, this two-story white-painted villa was compact and elegantly simple, with fewer rooms and decor based on white and amber tones. However, the front garden was meticulously tended, with amusingly trimmed bushes, a fountain where angel statues seemed to frolic, and flower beds arranged geometrically, blooming with exotic flowers imported from beyond the seas, from Benares to Saikoku.

In that garden, Empress Maria was surrounded by many friends, smiling happily as usual.

At the outdoor buffet, the Chico Puerto's exclusive chef had laid out a lavish spread of dishes, around which the nobles chatted and helped themselves to their favorite items.

Mother! I'm terribly sorry for my delay!

Rushing from his bicycle, Carl ran into Maria’s arms with a voice close to tears.

Her slender, supple arms wrapped around Carl's back. A mesmerizing scent wafted from her wine-colored dress. For some reason, his vision blurred. When he looked up, there was his beloved mother's smile.

Martino and Robert left without even asking for my permission, and I got lost in the forest! So it’s their fault, not mine!

At Carl's clumsy excuse, Maria chuckled softly, bent down, and looked straight into her son’s eyes.

You shouldn’t speak ill of your friends like that, you know?

But it's true!

Maria frowned slightly in concern, her lips curving into a smile as she gently grasped Carl’s arms and peered even more intently into his eyes.

Carl's cheeks turned bright red. The elegance and grace emanating from his mother weighed heavily on his young shoulders. He inadvertently looked down, and Maria tilted her head obliquely.

Oh, why can't you look me in the eyes?

That’s because . . .

Is it because you feel guilty?

Carl kept his gaze lowered, his voice raised.

No! I have nothing to feel guilty about!

Then look at me properly and talk.

I can't . . . !

. . . ?

Because you are too beautiful, mother!

Oh my.

Now it was Maria's turn to blush as the surrounding nobles erupted in high-pitched laughter.

Well, well, the prince indeed has a keen eye.

The future princess will surely be anxious. Compared to the Empress, even the flowers would seem faded.

Maria's entourage, dressed in pretentious evening wear and ridiculous golden wigs, teased in nasal voices. Carl looked up sharply and rebuked them.

How dare you! I am the first prince. You must treat me with more respect!

The entourage exchanged troubled looks and, without a word, eluded the prince's reprimand with an affected nod. Maria lightly stepped in between them, smiling.

Being late is no longer a concern. You must be hungry, eat to your heart’s content.

Yes!

I will rest inside. Be a good boy tonight.

. . . Yes, goodnight, mother.

Goodnight, my dear.

Maria kissed Carl’s forehead gently and then returned inside with her friends.

After the all-too-brief conversation with his mother, Carl sat alone at an outdoor table, eating the dinner brought by the butlers. His desire to have his mother all to himself churned inside him, but he restrained himself.

Mother is very busy.

He muttered to himself, trying to accept this fact. Indifferently stabbing his fork into the various dishes laid out before him, he suppressed his rising loneliness with pride.

. . . As a prince of this nation, I must not behave like a common child.

Eventually, I must become the Emporer worthy to be passed on in history, one who would make my mother proud.

I am a chosen, a special being.

. . . Therefore, I must also endure loneliness.

While admonishing himself, he mechanically ingested the extravagant meal without savoring it.

After finishing his meal, he entered his room located at a corner on the first floor of the detached palace.

From upstairs, the joyful laughter of Maria and the sound of string instruments could be heard. Carl truly wanted to join them, but he endured his loneliness, spending the night alone to prepare for the solitude of an emporer he would one day have to face.

He sat in a large chair adorned with exquisite carvings, opening a picture book he intended to memorize by the end of the day.

It was a simplified version for children of the world creation myth by Saint Aldista.

Under the dim light hanging from the ceiling, the ancient creation tale seemed to rise from the pages . . .

†††

In the beginning, there were words, and then came light, followed by rain.

The rain continued to fall from the sky for seven days and nights, and on the eighth day, it reached the cobblestone.

The rain rejoiced as the cobblestone caught it, and it kept falling day after day without rest. The rainwater accumulated and spread across the cobblestone.

Seventy thousand years after the rain began, the water finally spilled over the edge of the cobblestone and fell into the dark abyss below.

The cobblestone, feeling pity for the perpetually falling rain, made a wish to Saint Aldista, the sole ruler of the sky.

Saint Aldista, I feel so sorry for the rain. I do not care what becomes of me, but please, help the rain.

Saint Aldista granted this wish and split the cobblestone in two. Then, the rain gathered and spread across the two pieces of cobblestone.

The rain rejoiced, continuing to fall with undiminished vigor.

Seventy thousand years later, the rain overflowed again, and Saint Aldista split the cobblestone once more.

One hundred and twenty thousand years later, as Saint Aldista was about to split yet another cobblestone, the first cobblestone wept.

Saint Aldista, your mercy and generosity overwhelm my heart. Let us no longer seek more siblings. From now on, I will devise a way for the rain to eternally circle above me as a blessing to you.

True to its promise, the first cobblestone created a mechanism to prevent the water from falling into the abyss, instead sending it skyward from its core.

Saint Aldista praised the cobblestone, and the mechanism that kept the water from falling became known as the Edge of the Sky, and the rain that was sent upward became known as the Holy Spring.

From the Holy Spring, part of the cobblestone's body erupted, and these became islands that traveled through the heavens.

Among these islands, some fell into the sea and took root in the cobblestone, and became land.

Saint Aldista then created humans on the land, and made animals as companions for humans.

I promise you eternal love. Be fruitful, multiply, and fill the land. To ensure you do not overflow from the Edge of the Sky, and as a sign of our covenant, I will regularly release new islands into the heavens above you.

True to this promise, every four years, Saint Aldista released flying islands from the Holy Spring.

The flying islands slowly passed over the heads of humans, crossing three seas, and to the Edge of the Sky where they returned to the cobblestone.

The humans then came to Saint Aldista with a question.

Where is the Edge of the Sky located?

I know the truth, but I choose not to answer your question with words. For I know there is value in your seeking it. As an answer to your question, I have placed an immobile star in the faraway sky. When you have matured enough and kept my teachings well enough to cross the three seas, aim for this immobile star.

Thus, Saint Aldista created the fixed star, Etica, and placed it at a single point in the pitch-black sky.

From then on, while other stars traversed the heavens, Etica remained fixed, waiting for humans to fly towards it . . .

†††

The myth would continue into the second chapter, where a founder of a nation emerges among the thriving humans on the land, but Carl had been repeatedly reading just this first chapter of the creation myth.

Not because it was interesting, but because this narrative had become a topic of conversation throughout Ballesteros, and he didn't want to be left behind by his friends. By understanding its contents better than and before anyone else, he could boast about it later when it came up in conversation.

They would realize that they are not just lower status than me but significantly less intelligent, and be even more humble towards me.

Carl imagined his friends groveling and scraping their foreheads on the ground before him.

Hehehe . . .

He smiled happily to himself. Then, with a stern expression, he resolved to acquire knowledge of the myth solely to boast to his friends.

Why the ancient creation myth was now a topic of discussion is because the Holy Spring, once thought to be mythical, was recently discovered by the explorer, Luis de Alarcon.

The Holy Spring, where the rain was sent skyward.

According to Luis, it was an immensely large sea fountain.

About a year ago, Luis set sail from the Atocha Military Port of the Ballesteros Empire, to discover the Edge of the Sky described in the creation myth. Carl's mother, Maria La Ile, provided funding. The exploration fleet, consisting of three airships equipped with hydrogen batteries, headed southeast towards the fixed star Etica through the Southern Sea, Sia Sauram, just as Saint Aldista had instructed.

Of course, Luis was not the first to undertake such an exploration. It had been nearly five hundred years since large sailing ships designed for long voyages first appeared, and numerous massive air fleets had the Edge of the Sky as the destination in mind. However, they either had to flee back due to running out of water and food, or they disappeared and never returned. Incidentally, the most extended voyage before Luis was recorded by a Ballesteros explorer five years ago, lasting 256 days. Enduring a one-way, four-month journey through the vast skies without sighting a single island, the patience displayed was undoubtedly commendable. However, sailors are only human, and being confined in a cramped ship, forced to consume poorly preserved food and nearly spoiled water for four months, eventually reaches a breaking point, resulting in a mutiny where the explorers were thrown out of the airship, and the ship turned back towards Ballesteros without finding any islands. However, these sailors did not escape unscathed; on their way back, about eighty percent of the crew died from an onboard infectious disease, and those who were more dead than alive were the only ones who managed to return to their homeland. These crew members had exhausted their physical strength, pride, and flying skills in their attempt to explore the Edge of the Sky but alas, this boundless sky repelled even such noble challenges.

And then came Luis de Alarcon.

Before setting sail, he paid special attention to water. Most previous expeditions faltered due to the spoilage of the water stored on board. After roaming around Ballesteros, Luis discovered that the mineral water from the caldera region was far less prone to spoilage than regular water. He further filtered this water to remove oxidizing impurities and sealed it in specially made polyvinyl chloride containers in large quantities on board. As Luis had planned, this water did not spoil even when the exploration fleet returned about a year after setting sail, astonishing explorers worldwide.

Yet, even with the safety of the water secured, Luis's voyage was not smooth sailing.

Around four months after departure, signs of mutiny began to emerge among the crew. It may sound like the crew was solely at fault for throwing the captain overboard and interrupting the exploration to return home, but the anxiety and fear that struck crew members during a mapless exploratory flight were no trivial matters. To help understand their vulnerability, one might imagine swimming endlessly toward the horizon.

The more you swam, the further the shore seemed, the deeper the sea became, and the more your strength diminished. The more you progressed, the more strength you needed to turn back.

While it's fine to proceed with momentum, can we really return? Do we have enough stamina left for the journey back? There is no guarantee there's an island ahead. Perhaps it would be wise to gracefully give up and turn back to the shore.

As the days passed, that opinion became more persuasive and gradually became dominant on the ship.

Luis continued discussions with the crew members on the brink of mutiny. He showed them the stockpiles of water and food, explained the significance of this exploration to the world, and lured them with the honor and special rewards they would receive if they discovered the Edge of the Sky and returned.

We'll head towards Etica for another twenty days. If we still find nothing, we'll turn back.

He managed to extract such a concession from the crew.

It appeared in the lookout’s binoculars on the morning of the eighteenth day after the discussion.

Snatching the binoculars from a frantic crew member, Luis gasped as he meticulously inspected and observed the incredible sight.

He estimated it to be about twenty thousand meters away—the sea was erupting.

This wasn't something small like a fountain. The sea's surface was discontinuous as far as the eye could see, forming a wall of seawater that seemed to block their path.

Luis pondered to himself.

This wall might be the Great Waterfall.

Perhaps a higher sea level lay beyond this wall of water, from which water was falling down.

But as he approached the water wall and ascended to a higher altitude to cross over the top of the water flow, he realized it was not a waterfall but more accurately described as a colossal fountain.

Luis endured the turbulence and deafening roar as he closely observed the details.

Below him was not the open sea but a field of fountain-like spires extending endlessly into the distance.

Like the Great Waterfall, this spring also seemed to have no visible edge. The water erupted over an immense area, seemingly without end, and, strangely enough, no accompanying ocean current could be observed.

It's the mythical Holy Spring!

So it really existed!

This alone is a great discovery!

The myths were true, so the Edge of the Sky must exist, too!

The ship was in an uproar. Luis documented this monumental discovery with hundreds of photographs as evidence of the Holy Spring's existence and declared his intention to return to the homeland with this great discovery.

Six months later, the entire Ballesteros Empire was abuzz with talk of the Holy Spring. Welcomed with great enthusiasm, Luis and his crew became instant celebrities, pulled from one lecture to another. Their grueling sea adventures, now with countless exaggerated details, were eagerly consumed by the public.

A mystery of the world had been unveiled.

The Holy Spring did exist!

Next, the Edge of the Sky must be found.

The palace's atmosphere leaned towards organizing a second expedition.

And now, the court’s trump card for making the long-term exploration possible was the flying island, Isla, which had been successfully captured four years ago.

Carl set aside the book he was reading and picked up another picture book on the same topic as he intently searched for trivia related to the creation myth. As he yawned, suddenly, noises came from the outside.

Hmm?

Carl pressed his forehead against the window, peering into the darkness outside.

Under the gaslight, a couple of black carriages stopped in front of the palace, and men in unfamiliar military uniforms emerged in a flurry, pushing aside the butler who came to meet them, and stormed into the palace.

. . . ?

Carl's head tilted at the unusual commotion.

A scream echoed from the second floor, unmistakably that of Maria.

Mother!

Without a moment's hesitation, Carl dashed out of his room. Still in his nightclothes, he ran to the entrance hall, where the resident butler stopped him.

There's no need to worry, Your Highness. Those are just soldiers from the Imperial Guards, here to protect the Empress. They're a bit disheveled, but they are on our side.

What's going on?

After a moment's thought, the butler quietly replied.

It's a revolution.

The unfamiliar word made Carl's head tilt again.