Chapter 37

Spring returned to the earth, and with it, the world was reborn.

As the heavy blankets of snow melted into the soil, seeds that had slept through the long winter began to awaken. Tender shoots broke through the dark earth, drinking in the snowmelt.

On a morning when the sky was a clear, boundless azure, a massive crowd gathered on the verdant plains outside Ironwood City. Everyone was there—Minister Speer, Freya, Alice, and Charlo.

But the true guests of honor were the engineers. Hundreds of them, a mix of mages and commoners, stood shoulder to shoulder. In this moment, there was no distinction of rank or status. They were a single mind, their eyes fixed on the metal beast resting on the grass.

It was a titan.

Charlo walked around the machine, his hand brushing against the cold fuselage. This was "Flyer One."

To the uneducated eye, it was just a strange metal shape. But to Charlo, it was a symphony of magic and physics.

He looked at the wings—eighteen meters from tip to tip. They weren't just steel sheets; they were a fortress. Beneath the paint, the metal was etched with Reinforcement Runes. These magical engravings bound the steel molecules together, giving the airframe the structural integrity of a dragon’s scale. It was the only way to ensure the wings didn't snap when fighting the wind.

He moved to the nose. There was no beak, only a blunt, circular cowling. Inside sat the heart of the beast: the "Skybird Type-I" Aero Engine.

It was massive, physically larger than the piston engines from Charlo’s memories of Earth. It had to be. It wasn't burning gasoline; it was burning a volatile nightmare cooked up by Freya.

"Are you certain this thing can fly?" Clyris approached him, her voice laced with deep skepticism. She looked at the heavy steel frame. It must have weighed tons.

"We have conducted hundreds of experiments, haven't we? Trust the math, Clyris," Charlo smiled, patting the cowling.

"Math is one thing. Reality is another," Clyris muttered, eyeing the propeller.

It was a strange design—two propellers stacked on top of each other, designed to spin in opposite directions.

"It’s necessary," Charlo explained, tracing the curve of the blade. "This engine puts out 2,300 Horsepower. If we used a single propeller, the sheer torque would flip the plane upside down the moment it left the ground. These counter-rotating blades cancel out the torque, turning all that raw power into pure thrust."

He pointed to the faint glow shimmering around the nose. "And that? That's the Gale Array. It sucks air into the intake like a vacuum, feeding the engine the oxygen it needs to scream."

Charlo looked at the machine with pride. It was a hybrid monster. The design was based on a World War II fighter, but the blood running through its veins was magic. The fuel tank held a 1:1 mixture of pulverized Mana Stone and refined oil—a liquid so energetic that without the Thermostatic Runes keeping the engine cool, the whole thing would melt into slag in seconds.

"It will be fine," Charlo said softly, more to himself than to her. "This is the crystallization of everything we know."

The checks were finished. The runway was cleared.

"Oliver, go!" Charlo shouted. "Take 'Flyer One' and conquer the sky!"

"Yes, Sir!"

The young pilot, Oliver, saluted with a trembling hand. He scrambled up the ladder, settled into the cockpit, and pulled the canopy shut.

He took a deep breath and flipped the ignition switch.

Whirrrr—ROAR!

The beast woke up.

The sound was unlike anything the people of this world had ever heard. It wasn't the roar of a monster; it was the rhythmic, thundering heartbeat of industry. The propellers spun, blurring into two shimmering discs that sliced the air.

The Protection Array flared to life, wrapping the fuselage in a thin film of mana. This shield didn't just protect the pilot; it smoothed the air flowing over the metal skin, reducing drag until the plane was as slippery as a fish in water.

'Flyer One' began to move.

The three landing wheels rolled across the grass.

Faster.

And faster.

The engine howled, dumping all 2,300 horsepower into the air. The tail lifted. Then, in a moment that stopped the hearts of everyone watching, the wheels left the grass.

Light as a feather, the heavy steel machine defied the ancient law of gravity. It soared!

"WOOOOOO!!!"

"IT’S FLYING! BY THE GODS, IT’S FLYING!"

The crowd erupted. People cheered, jumped, and ran after the plane, their eyes locked on the silhouette as it cut through the sky, climbing higher until it was just a silver speck in the blue.

"It... it succeeded..."

Clyris murmured, staring blankly as the plane moved so fast it outran her magical vision.

Her emotions were a tangled mess—joy, shock, and a strange sense of melancholy.

The sky had always belonged to the High-Rank. Only those with immense magical power could fly. But today... a metal box built by mortals had broken that rule.

"We did it!" Alice wiped tears from her eyes.

"Whoa!!!" Freya screamed, jumping up and down. "Look at the speed! My fuel works!"

"Unbelievable..." Minister Speer’s voice was thick with emotion. Tears streamed down the middle-aged man's face. "On this day, a commoner flew into the heavens! We have snatched a privilege that belonged exclusively to the gods!"

He turned to Charlo. "This is all thanks to you, My Lord!"

"No." Charlo shook his head. "I only provided the idea."

He gestured to the team. "Speer, you built the bones. Freya, you gave it blood. Clyris and Alice, you gave it a soul with your runes. And the workers... they gave it life."

Charlo raised his voice, addressing the stunned crowd.

"This is our victory! Everyone here today will be remembered by history! Because of your dedication, mortals now have the right to touch the sky! Gravity can no longer bind us!"

Charlo pointed a finger toward the endless blue above, past the clouds, past the atmosphere.

"Our goal is not just the sky. Our goal is the Sea of Stars!!!"

Clyris watched Charlo, her heart thumping against her ribs.

The Sea of Stars...?

She looked up. For thousands of years, humans, Elves, and Demons fought over patches of dirt. Even the strongest Saints eventually had to land. Their eyes were always looking down.

But this Lord... he had barely touched the sky, and he was already looking at the cosmos.

"Alright! He's coming back!" Charlo clapped his hands. "Let's check the telemetry!"

The plane descended, the landing gear kissing the grass smoothly. The engineers swarmed the machine as Oliver climbed out, looking like he had seen the face of God.

Charlo grabbed the flight data log.

"Look at these numbers," he whispered, showing the slate to Speer.

"Top speed clocked at 750 kilometers per hour. Oliver took it to 16,000 meters—he was nearly in the stratosphere. And based on fuel consumption, we have a range of 2,000 kilometers."

Speer gasped. "That means... we could bomb the Baroque Capital and return before lunch."

Charlo nodded, a fierce grin on his face. "Exactly."

That night, the fires of celebration in Ironwood Keep burned brighter than the stars they now aimed to reach.