Chapter 13

A New Takeoff

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The morning after the Luminark was completed.

In the garage bathed in the light of dawn, we stood where Chief Engineer Gran had called us.

Beyond the heavy steel doors, the Luminark, now fully tuned and ready, waited in silence.
The smooth, silvery hull reflected the morning sun as if awaiting the moment of awakening.

Before it, Chief Gran stood with his arms crossed, quietly watching us.

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“…So, you two plan to set out on a journey now?”

His tone was low, yet there was something testing in his voice.

“Yes. We want to travel the world—and search for my missing parents.”

I stepped forward to answer, and beside me, Mile nodded firmly.

“That’s why, when we turn seventeen next year, we plan to enroll in the Astoria Flight Academy and earn an international pilot license.”

(Because you need that license to operate freely beyond the borders.)

The moment I finished, Chief Gran let out a long sigh, like a puff of smoke.

“I see. Then… until you get that license, I’ll be limiting the Luminark’s performance.”

“What?”

I couldn’t help blurting it out. The ship had just been completed—our dream finally realized—so why now?

“Why?” Mile asked, her voice equally confused.

Gran placed a hand on his chin, staring at the ship’s hull for a moment before speaking.

“To put it simply… even as its designer, I have to say this thing’s specs are too much for you right now.”

There was a faint smile in his voice.

“Agility, power output, control responsiveness—honestly, every aspect is abnormal. So good that you might start thinking it’s your own skill. But listen carefully…”

His eyes met ours, filled with stern sincerity.

“When your tool outpaces your ability, you start to cover up your own lack of skill without realizing it.
Keep that up, and one day it’ll come back to bite you—hard. Maybe even fatally.”

Though his words were calm, they struck deep in my chest.

“That’s why, for now, I’m locking down all but the essential functions. Go study at the academy. Learn proper flightcraft as pilots—and then you can unlock its full power.”

Then, Gran’s expression softened just a little.

“Don’t worry. I won’t send off a ship—or its pilots—half-baked.”

My chest burned with emotion.
He really cared about us—both the ship and our futures.

“Yes, sir! We’ll definitely become pilots worthy of the Luminark!”

“I’ll keep an eye on Skai to make sure he doesn’t get carried away,” Mile added.

“Leave the flying to me!” Nocti chimed in proudly. “I’ll whip you into shape good and proper!”

Gran gave a short laugh.

“Also—before you enter the academy, register with the Explorer’s Guild and take on a few jobs.”

“The Explorer’s Guild…?”

“Yeah. Flying around nearby is fine for now, but if you’re planning to travel the world, you’ll need armaments.”

“To mount weapons on a civilian airship, guild registration is required.”

“I understand. Once we get used to handling the Luminark, we’ll head there.”

“Good. Oh—and take this. Stick it on your ship. The garage is yours to use anytime.”

Gran handed us a Gran Workshop logo sticker and headed back inside.

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“There, that should do it.”

I pressed the Gran Workshop logo onto the Luminark’s gleaming hull.
The sturdy, understated emblem looked perfectly at home on the silvery exterior.

Now that we bore this mark, there was no turning back.
Not as just Skai, but as a pilot. My responsibility had just been etched into my heart.

I sat in the cockpit, Mile in the navigator’s seat beside me.

And Nocti? Naturally—on Mile’s lap.
In plush form for now, but when needed, he’d support the Luminark’s systems.

“Alright—time for Luminark’s first flight!”

At my excited call, the cockpit’s main monitor lit up, lines of text flickering to life one after another:

Main System: Boot Complete
Output Level: Maximum
Flight Core Synchronization: 100%
Anchors Released
Takeoff Clearance Granted
Countdown Start
3… 2… 1… Lift-off.

At that instant, the Luminark rose smoothly into the air.

“Wow, Skai—we’re flying!”

“Yeah! Let’s keep it steady and warm up the systems.”

We circled above Gran’s workshop for about half an hour—but it felt like only a moment.

Even with most of its true capabilities sealed, the Luminark glided powerfully, effortlessly—
as if the very wind itself had become our ally.

The cockpit didn’t even have a physical canopy, yet we weren’t afraid.
No wind entered, and our view stretched endlessly clear.
All thanks to the multi-layer barrier system.

“She’s so quiet…” Mile whispered.

“No kidding. It’s almost too peaceful,” Nocti muttered.

“The controls feel amazing,” I said. “It’s like I’ve been flying her for years already…”

A full year of effort—now taking tangible form in the skies.
This wasn’t just a ship.

It was our dream itself.

The Luminark—our wings—had truly begun to soar across the world.

After enjoying the skies a little longer, we returned safely to the workshop hangar.

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“So—how was it? Your first flight with your own hands?”

At Gran’s question, I couldn’t help smiling.

“It was incredible! We just landed, but I already want to fly again!”

“Haha! That’s what an airship is all about.”

Gran nodded in satisfaction, watching our excitement—
as though remembering the passion of his own youth.

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