Volume 4 Chapter 104 If We Could Fly
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
At last, the airship was complete.
After receiving Beckus’s message, we hurried to the hangar—and found ourselves standing before a vast dock that looked more like a factory floor. It had grown even larger than before, the ceiling rising high overhead, the faint smell of metal and paint hanging in the air.
And at the center of that space, it waited.
Its body gleamed with a skin of red scales and polished steel, translucent membranes stretched across both wings that shimmered faintly under the light. A majestic vessel, proud and alive.
The masts that once crowned its deck were gone, replaced by a metal framework like the ribs of some great beast. That, Beckus explained, would house the gas-filled sacs, and I realized then—that must be where Puni-Maru would rest.
Still, something felt off. Compared to the airships I’d seen on Earth, the gas chamber was far too small—barely the size of the hull itself. No way that much volume could keep the ship afloat—was it really enough to lift this thing?
”Are you planning to fill it with a gas lighter than air?” I asked.
Beckus frowned at me as though I’d said something strange.
”Of course not. The gas inside a sky slime is composed of a buoyant magical substance. It can float even against a vacuum.”
Stronger than hydrogen or helium, floating even in a vacuum—that was pure magic.
”These days, every modern airship uses that very substance,” Beckus continued, his beard twitching. “Your knowledge, boy, is rather primitive in places.”
Primitive, huh.
Nokiroul chuckled. “Come on, big brother. Taro’s world doesn’t even have magic. That’s probably why.”
Right. On Earth, where magic didn’t exist, a machine like this could only be a dream.
”I see… Still, your world has vessels that fly, doesn’t it?” Beckus’s eyes gleamed with curiosity.
I took a moment to think, then began explaining what little I knew: airflow, lift, jet engines, petroleum fuel. My fragmented knowledge barely scraped the surface, yet they seemed to grasp it quickly.
”Engines and oil, eh…” Beckus murmured, crossing his arms and stroking his chin, eyes glittering with the spark of a craftsman’s curiosity.
Could such a thing be built here?
”We could make one,” Nokiroul said with a shrug, “but it’s easier to use a magi-engine.”
True enough. In a world powered by magic, recreating a combustion engine would be meaningless. The laws of physics may overlap, but the presence of magic changed everything.
”Well then,” Beckus said with a wave of his hand, “let’s leave that topic for another day.”
He began explaining the airship’s construction. “First, the outer shell. We’ve layered it with scales from a fire dragon. Perfect defense—no physical weapon can pierce it, and even most spells will barely scratch the surface.”
The crimson armor gleamed under the lights, alive with a faint heat that radiated to the touch, as if the dragon’s spirit still burned within.
”The wings,” Beckus continued, “are reforged membranes from a wyvern. Lightweight, tough, and highly conductive to magic.”
The wings looked delicate, thin enough to see through, yet their strength was rumored to surpass steel.
”Now, look here,” Nokiroul called, leading us toward the stern.
A faint silver glow pulsed from a cylindrical structure.
”This is the heart of it.”
Smooth metal covered its surface, etched with complex magical sigils that pulsed like veins with flowing light. Blue-white fluid coursed through the conduits around it, and at its core, a massive magic crystal throbbed like a beating heart.
”The magi-engine,” I whispered.
”Exactly,” Nokiroul said.
It resembled a jet engine, but the etched patterns and flowing light marked it as something wholly born of sorcery.
”This one’s a custom model,” Nokiroul went on proudly. “It’s got several times the thrust of a normal engine, but…”
He grimaced.
”The fuel efficiency’s garbage—it devours magic stones like candy. Unless you’ve got as many as we do, you couldn’t possibly maintain it.”
”In other words, it’s ours alone,” I said.
”Indeed,” Beckus replied.
”That’s right,” Nokiroul added with a grin.
They nodded together, utterly unbothered by what would have been a fatal flaw for anyone else. They trusted us to handle it.
We moved inside the vessel, and I couldn’t help but gape. Gone was the old wooden ship—in its place stood something entirely new.
The wooden floors and walls had been replaced with metallic panels, and the musty cabins were gone—replaced by a command bridge that looked fit for a battleship.
”This is nothing like before,” I said. “Did you even need the old Carmadiva for this?”
I thought starting from scratch might have been faster.
”Don’t be foolish,” Beckus replied. “It was only possible because we started from the original hull.”
As it turned out, the Carmadiva’s wooden body was no ordinary timber—it was made from a dungeon-born material: unknown, impossibly durable, and magically stable. Recreating it from nothing was impossible.
A ship from the deepest levels of a dungeon—it deserved its reputation.
We hadn’t sailed her for long, but hearing her praised stirred a quiet pride in me.
”Can she move already?” I asked.
”Of course,” Beckus said.
”Then let’s take her out!” I said.
We began the launch preparations. “Master, this way please,” Lifia called, guiding me to the captain’s chair—a seat raised slightly above the others, commanding the center of the bridge. It looked more like a throne than a chair, and honestly, it made me a little self-conscious.
”Commence launch sequence!” I said, sitting down. The fairies and brownie sailors saluted in unison, tiny hands flashing in disciplined rhythm. Panels and sigils across the bridge flared to life one after another—their precision filled me with confidence.
In front of the captain’s seat, a single socket waited—an empty space for something to fit.
”So this is where it goes, huh?” I said.
”Aye,” Beckus said with a knowing grin. “That’s right.”
At Beckus’s nod, I reached into my coat and drew out a small compass—the Spirit-Seeker’s Compass we’d found alongside the Carmadiva on the dungeon’s fifth floor. It was more than a keepsake; it was the key that bound the ship to its heart.
I fit it gently into the waiting slot, and a metallic click rang out—sharp and clean, as though the ship itself exhaled. Placing my fingertips against its surface, I let a stream of mana flow inward.
A tremor rippled through the deck, and the low hum of awakening rose from beneath the floor. The magic sigils etched across the planks began to glow—blue light pulsing through the corridors like veins filling with life.
With a grinding roar, the enormous hangar doors began to move, and light spilled in—bleaching the walls white. The scent of salt reached us, and a cool wind brushed my cheek.
Seawater rushed beneath the hull, and the ship lifted—weightless, rocking on invisible waves. The hum of the magi-engine deepened, and we drifted smoothly out to sea.
”This is amazing!” Kéa shouted, her voice bright with wonder.
”We’re just getting started,” I said, grinning. After all, the real journey hadn’t begun yet—we were about to take to the sky.
I stepped out onto the deck, and the ocean stretched endlessly blue beneath us—the heavens just as vast above. A scene I’d seen countless times before, yet today it shone with a strange, unreal brilliance.
From my coat, I took out Puni-Maru—the little milky-white slime that had followed me since the dungeon’s fifth floor.
”Puni-Maru, take your place up there. Time to lift us.”
It gave a small, cheerful tremor in reply, then began to swell rapidly. In moments, it was floating freely, drifting toward the top of the ship. It slipped neatly between the metal ribs and settled within the gas framework.
And then the world tilted.
The sea fell away beneath us, and spray scattered in the sunlight like shards of glass. We were rising—actually rising.
”We’re floating! We’re really floating!” Yomi’s eyes widened, her hands gripping the rail for dear life.
Meanwhile, Kéa and Korukona leaned over the edge, laughing into the wind—hair whipping wild and bright. Reckless, but that was nothing new for them.
The ship climbed higher, and the line between sea and land faded to a distant haze. The sky deepened to a richer blue—vast and endless.
Back on the bridge, I channeled more mana into the magi-engine, and the hum deepened to a resonant growl. The crystal lamps pulsed with every beat, and the thrust increased—gravity’s pull loosened, and my body grew light.
Below us, the world blurred into streaks of white foam—only the ocean’s thin lines remained, the earth now a distant memory.
The wind lashed the deck, carrying fine mist that glittered like glass, and ahead, clouds loomed—an immense wall of white, rising to meet us.
”Let’s go,” I murmured, pushing the engine’s power higher.
The hull tilted forward, and with a roar, we plunged into the sea of clouds.
For a heartbeat, everything went white—moist air struck my face, and mist wrapped around us like a living thing. Then light broke through.
We had pierced the clouds.
In an instant, the world transformed: above, a boundless sky of sapphire; below, a vast ocean of white clouds glowing under the sun. The red hull blazed like a living dragon.
”It’s beautiful…” someone whispered, and the others followed with gasps and laughter, awestruck. Lifia’s silver hair caught the sunlight, scattering faint halos of light around her.
”With this ship,” she said softly, “we might even reach the Sky Continent.”
”The… Sky Continent?” I turned toward her, saying,
Just the sound of the words stirred something deep in me—an itch of wonder I could not resist.
Tifi spoke up, ever the scholar. “It’s said to be a nation that once floated among the clouds—a place where the gods themselves lived. There are even records of people who claimed to have seen it from the ground.”
A kingdom in the sky—a fairy tale, maybe. But in this world, fairy tales had a habit of being real.
”A floating castle!? You mean that actually exists!?” Yomi leaned forward, eyes gleaming. Of course, she’d react that way—I could hardly blame her. I felt the same.
”A castle, perhaps,” Tifi said with a thoughtful nod. “The records describe it as a nation, but… yes, there might be one.”
A floating continent—the land of gods, a castle in the sky. If such a place existed, how could we not go?
I turned the compass’s faceplate and switched to search mode, and light streaked across its surface. The needle spun wildly but never settled—it wavered, lost, pointing nowhere.
Can’t find it? Impossible—this was a high-tier artifact from the dungeon’s fifth floor. It should respond to any destination in this world.
And yet it found nothing.
”…So it doesn’t exist?” I murmured, saying,
Maybe it was just legend after all—a myth, nothing more.
”There are records of sightings across history,” Tifi said gently. “So I believe it did exist… once.”
Rozmiaque spoke quietly. “My grandfather claimed to have seen it himself.”
An elven grandfather—that meant a long, long time ago.
”When was that?” I asked, saying,
”About five hundred years past.””
Five centuries… enough time for even a continent to fade. Maybe it had fallen from the sky or drifted into the stars.
I felt a faint sting of disappointment.”
Lifia smiled softly beside me. “It was the gods’ realm, after all—perhaps it hides even from magical sight. Someday, we might still find it.”
Tifi nodded shyly. “With someone like you, Mr. Taro… I’m sure you’ll reach places no one else ever has.”
”Yes! We’ll search the whole sky with this ship if we have to!” Kéa said, her eyes shining with impossible determination.
I couldn’t help but laugh.”
Yeah—maybe she was right.”
I looked up again, and the sky stretched endlessly—so blue, so deep. Beyond the clouds, beyond even this horizon, there were still worlds we hadn’t seen.
Even if the Sky Continent was gone, it didn’t matter.”
This world was still full of places waiting to be found—we’d chase the wind, cross the seas, and soar above the clouds, toward lands no one had ever reached.
Our journey had only just begun.
Notes:
• Korukona – A cat-eared girl with amber eyes. She is brave but vulnerable, showing honesty and gratitude. Taro rescues her from the pirate and plans to send her to her village.
• Rozmiaque – High-ranking elf investigating large-scale Spirit Magic usage. Condescending, believes a High Elf is involved. Uses 6-letter Spirit Magic to trap targets. Displays contempt for half-elves and humans. Aggressive interrogator, possibly capable of sensing hidden information.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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