Chapter-196 Boot Up
The storming influx of Rigen into the Stormfalcon’s sub-fuel tank tested the limits of Ewan’s reflexes. His cognition overclocked as the river of pings surged in with an overload of information. He went through every instance and fell into a rhythm of matching the incoming data against a verified bit. And until the rush settled down, and the flood of Rigen deflated into a dying trickle, he only received positive feedback—the fuel had no problem, and the purity was class-A.
When the fill-up ended, Ewan unlocked the pipe and threw in the pouch plumped with Novas coins before letting it go. The deal ended well, the Stormfalcon fed a mouthful, and it was time to continue the journey.
“Stefan, stay in the standby room,” Ewan said, closing the filler hole and floating up to the top deck. “Kidd, Lance, you two stay here and keep an eye out. I’ll go start the thrusters.”
…
Nightingale booted up with the push of the red button, and the injection of Rigen in its veins brought the Warship back to life. The peripherals woke up and fed the core back, the corridors and the halls lit up with bright snowy light, the thrusters growled and hissed with a slight groan hidden beneath, and her sweet voice echoed inside the bridge.
“Good morning, Sir Ewan,” Nightingale said.
“Morning.” Ewan smiled. “Do a thorough scan of the ship, prioritize the vital sections, and confirm the authenticity of Rigen,” he said in fluent Kaaleria, a fruit of his rigorous study of the language.
“Affirmative, sir. Gathering data, please wait,” she said, and the screen flashed with random bits of information.
“Thrusters module, damage at 5%, flight feasible at maximum thrust. Defense module, damage at 27%, initiation possible. Ryvia module, damage at 98%, system shut down to prevent collapse. Peripherals module, no damage, running at maximum capacity. Rigen authentication, class-A confirmed, no issue found with the fuel. Stormfalcon is ready for flight, sir.”
“Pull up the anchors, start the thrusters at its lowest, and keep on the waters.” Ewan leaned on the captain’s chair and ordered.
The Warship tremored, and with blaring clangs of the metal and splashing waves of the ocean, the anchors zipped back up. The tiny thrusters lining the surface of the Stormfalcon came alive and altered its direction with small bursts. And the large thrusters on its sides and at the back roared with orange flames.
“Ewan!!!” Stefan yelled from the standby room, his cracked echo colliding within the metal corridor.
“I knew you had a black tongue, you fucker!!” Kidd hollered on the top deck.
“Sir!” Lance shouted. “We have guests!”
“Defensive shield on standby, lock the bottom hatch, and maintain speed,” Ewan said.
“Affirmative, Sir Ewan.” Her fading voice lingered behind him as he bolted through the corridor and out to the top deck, his gust blowing Stefan back, and hovered above the Stormfalcon.
Four wooden ships emerged from both sides of the island, their unfurled sails catching the wind towards the Warship, hoisting the flag of the Vern family, a curved swordfish insignia. Armed men crowded their decks, hooting and cheering with their blades unsheathed, lusting for blood. Some fluctuated the ‘Spirit’ wave of Step-0 Starons, some were Kyrons, while the rest bore the embodiment of the church of smiles—the blonde armor and the sword with the crest of two slanted laughing-masks. They were the Paladins.
“You’ve broken our law,” Gustin said in a deep voice, floating high above the town as he glared at them. “Any deal with the black market is a crime punishable by our reign. Give up resistance and you will receive leniency.”
“The defense module is damaged, Gustin. Be mindful of your attacks if you want an intact Warship,” Ewan said and let his Astylinds out. Frost took position in the middle of the top deck for support, Lilly settled on his shoulder, and Orange hovered beside Ewan.
“I’ve been wanting to test my new skill, now I can,” Kidd said and held the Obsidian Dagger in front of him. He stared at it for a breath then ripped his right hand away with a grunt, and a pale ghostly dagger appeared in it, a mirror image of the Obsidian Dagger.
“You changed your tune really quickly,” Lance said and readied the violet-bladed scythe, the chain jingling against the shield.
“I will handle long range; you guys take care of the melee. Let them connect the ladders if they want to, but don’t let them on board,” Ewan said, taking out the Rainwarden staff. “Attack to kill, show no mercy. One dead enemy is one less enemy.”
“Aye-aye, captain!” Kidd hollered.
“Yes, sir!” Lance yelled.
And the battle began with his Astylinds’ roar.
Elemental Cloak!
Ewan aimed his staff and emptied all his runes with four casts of the spell on Orange, Frost, Kidd, and Lance before the ships inched in, biting the coins to recover his Anima.
Orange gained a vibrant carroty cloak on him, flickering with embers; Frost had a snowy cloak, frigid mist thickening around him; a charcoal cloak enveloped Kidd, dimming his vicinity; and a coral cloak defended Lance, droplets of blood floating about.
Gustin swung his staff, and with distortions around him, hurled a crowd of earth bolts at Ewan. The spread of the spell could mean trouble, so Ewan flew ahead, away from the Warship, and timed his response.
Repulse!
He cast when the earth bolts reached him, and the shockwave of Ryvia crushed the incoming projectiles.