Chapter 294

Chapter 294: Countdown

At the graveyard’s center, Emil and her team worked frantically to repair the Wind King Warship. Even the usually carefree "Hand of Nightmare" Wiseman worked with rare seriousness.

To be precise, this male Necromancer eagerly anticipated the clash between two ancient warship-class Skyships, driving his uncharacteristic diligence.

Meanwhile, at the graveyard’s edge, the Magic Griffin warship launched a large-scale search operation mirroring Midi’s earlier approach – but with crucial differences. Unlike Midi’s mere dozen Vanguard ships, over a hundred reconnaissance craft deployed from the Magic Griffin, including eight-meter-long engineering vessels.

These specialized engineering vessels carried no attack or defense capabilities. Instead, they bristled with alchemy instruments and detection gear designed for wide-area scans. Prohibitively expensive and requiring heavy Vanguard ship escorts, their bulk also limited how many could be carried by even the largest Skyships traversing the Sea of Clouds.

Powerful factions like the Rothschild Guild wouldn’t manufacture such niche equipment, much less deploy them en masse. Only the Blue Truth Sect’s colossal Magic Griffin could field these engineering vessels effectively, creating truly efficient aerial search parties.

These search teams gave the Blue Truth Sect a decisive advantage over Midi’s solo efforts. Fortunately, they lacked Wiseman’s random luck in stumbling upon heavenly unmanned aircraft guidance. Their search remained directionless – casting wide nets rather than targeted sweeps.

Yet even this haphazard approach would inevitably locate the stationary Wind King Warship within ten hours.

"Seven hours maximum. To be safe, plan tactics using six as our baseline," Midi concluded grimly, peering through the cargo hold’s small porthole.

"How do you know this?" Reinhardt asked. The fourth prince’s question stemmed not from curiosity, but recognition – survival in the Sea of Clouds demanded different skills than ruling Arad’s kingdoms. Here, practical adventure knowledge meant power, and having Arad’s greatest adventurer nearby presented learning opportunities he couldn’t waste.

Noting Reinhardt’s grasp of this truth, Midi answered freely: "Monitor the Vanguard ships’ return frequency. Exploration teams using engineering vessels rarely recall units – they relay Instructions through secure magical communications. But when finding valuable wreckage…"

"…they send ships back as transports," Reinhardt realized. "So counting returns estimates their progress?"

"Not without reference points. But knowing how many salvage-worthy wrecks lie along the Wind King’s approach path…" Midi smiled faintly. "…and tracking returning ships’ vectors lets us calculate."

Reinhardt stared, stunned. Remembering every wreck’s location to create a mental treasure map? Correlating ship trajectories to gauge enemy progress? Calculating survival timelines down to the hour?

An advisor corps with full battlefield records might achieve this. But Midi had done it alone through days of porthole observations. No staff, no equipment – just experience and ruthless calculation.

How much adventure Experience forged this ability? What monstrous mental arithmetic underlay it? Reinhardt couldn’t fathom. Until reaching that level, he could only marvel.

He never doubted the conclusion. Midi’s reputation made boasts unnecessary, and the stakes – the Hawk Brigade’s fate, humanity’s survival – permitted no jokes.

The grim truth emerged: The Magic Griffin would find them before Emil finished repairs. Then came capture.

After such a long period of effort, expending so much mental energy and dedicating countless resources, they hadn’t demanded guaranteed rewards—but at least deserved the choice of a proper battle. Yet now, having finally secured the treasures, they faced forced surrender without even room for resistance. Even the most tolerant soul couldn’t accept such an ending.

"We must take action to endure those three hours," Reinhardt declared, azure eyes blazing with resolve.

"Correct. But it’s four hours, not three," Midi amended.

This was Midi’s way—estimating the Blue Truth Sect’s speed at six hours while allowing ten hours for Emil’s repairs. Not that he distrusted Emil’s ability to finish early, but because he shouldered the greatest burden of responsibility. This truth required no explanation.

Understanding the weight behind Midi’s brief correction, Reinhardt committed it to memory. Perhaps allying with this man proved wiser than anticipated. Unbidden, the fourth prince found himself entertaining this notion.

Silently, the pair opened the cargo hold’s iron door, slipping into Magic Griffin warship’s corridors like shadows. Their covert operations began.

Meanwhile on the bridge, Your Excellency the Saint and Blue Truth Sect higher-ups remained oblivious. Overconfidence bred complacency, and under normal circumstances, vigilance seemed unnecessary. Though the Saint’s telepathy couldn’t pinpoint individuals aboard the warship, intense killing intent or Midi’s earlier complex calculations would’ve caused detectable disturbances in the mental glow—enough to trigger shipwide searches.

The Magic Griffin’s design incorporated numerous defenses. During the ancient heavenly wars ten thousand years past, both People of the Heavens and Demon Faction employed teleportation skills and stealth techniques. True ancient warships bore magic arrays detecting abnormal energy. While simplified, this replica retained thick iron doors along corridors, layered energy shields in power chambers, and elite-guarded gunpowder/magic crystal vaults.

Infiltrators would find sabotage impossible—any irregularity triggered instant detection. Thus, sect leaders focused solely on search operations. Despite his lofty status, the Saint surpassed both pampered Bishop Marlan and the seasoned captain in exploratory prowess. He dissected every engineering vessel report, analyzed Vanguard ship debris, and issued meticulous instructions. The bishop and captain stood uselessly by, unable even to offer flattery without disrupting his focus.

This exemplified true Sea of Clouds experts—those who seized treasures through personal risk, reaching heights unreachable by throne-bound schemers. The finest spoils went to discoverers, not factions. Like adventurers claiming ruin-found heritages for themselves rather than trading for status.

Under such leadership, well-equipped teams worked with terrifying efficiency. By midnight, they’d scoured the graveyard’s periphery. At the Saint’s order, exploration teams thrust toward the center like Knight long spears—all within three hours.

"Adjusting predictions—we’ll be exposed in two more hours," Midi murmured, starlit eyes sharpening. The moment demanded action—the arrow already nocked.