My SSS-Rank Skill and System is too OP in Modern Cultivation world

—

Kent hopped onto the stern jump‑pad. The skimmer tilted, then self‑balanced. He flicked a rune canopy slid open silently. "Captain on deck, passenger are ready." he announced.

Nima slid into the forward cushion, palms on a pair of glowing spokes. "All functions are checked… captain Nima is ready to take off!"

"Engage," Kent supplied. She gave him a grateful grin and fed a thread of spiritual energy into the throttle rune.

Air shimmered. The skimmer drifted off the balcony and cleared the building edge by metres. Kent's stomach fluttered with that first free‑fall feeling—then lifted the rune handle a bit and they soared like dandelion fluff. Neon signs streaked below; pedestrians never looked up this high.

"Faster!" Nima squealed. She pushed the throttle rune. Engine arrays thrummed. In seconds they cleared twelve city blocks, bobbed over a commuter air‑tram. Auri leaned into the headwind, feathers igniting harmless spark‑trails.

Kent stole a glance at clock rune, speed approaching 200 km/h already, still under the one fourth potential. The hull barely hummed; rune matrix efficiency sang symphonies in his ears.

"Best surprise gift ever!" Nima shouted into the wind. "And it's almost midnight!"

Kent's grin softened. Midnight. He slid a conceal‑panel behind his seat, revealing a small insulated box of bakery. Inside there was a fresh cake he'd ordered by drone while forging.

He checked the chronometer for time: 23:58. Perfect.

"Pull the break's," he called. Nima pulled back gently; runes bled momentum into vertical rings and the craft stopped above an empty stretch of the East Canal. City lights danced on black water far below.

Kent popped the box open, retrieving the cake and a single candle shaped like a bird. Wind tugged their hair but rune shields kept air laminar inside the cockpit.

Nima blinked as he set the cake on the console. "W‑What's this?"

"Happy birthday, little princess." He flicked a small fire; flame bloomed on bird wick, no bigger than Auri's new tail spark. The city's skyscraper glow reflected in her wide eyes.

Auri chirped soft descant, little voice ringing clearer in the night sky.

Nima swallowed, voice small despite altitude: "You remembered?"

"I always remember." Kent squeezed her shoulder. "Twelve years old. Pilot of the fastest flying boat. This flying boat is your birthday gift."

Time: 12:00

She bit her lip, tears gathering but gentle this time. She made a wish, and blew out the flame. Frost‑fire breeze whisked smoke away.

They shared cake slices with fingers; Auri pecked crumbs, making happy crackle noises. Nima ate half of the cake and Auri ate the other half. Kent only got a piece.

When only frosting smears remained, Nima stared out over the glittering city grid. "Big brother…?" Her tone shifted—quiet, almost brittle.

Kent braced. "Yeah?"

"I always wanted to ask…" She hugged knees to chest, bomber jacket bunched. "…Do you remember our parents? You said they went away before I could talk. I—" her voice cracked "—don't know what a mother's hug feels like. Kids in our neighborhood always talk about how their mothers hug them when they get injured or sad…"

The cockpit silence deepened, broken only by rune inverters' soft chime.

Kent's breath caught. He hadn't seen her truly cry in years. The first time she cried when someone wanted to adopt her. Second time, in a winter after running from the orphanage she'd broken a finger slipping on ice and still claimed it didn't hurt, Because it will cost money to see a doctor. But now tears pooled, trailing across her cheeks..

He unbuckled, scooted forward, and drew her into arms. She buried face against his jacket, shoulders shaking. Auri fluttered but then settled on the canopy rim, head bowed.

Kent closed eyes. He'd been six since they lived in the orphanage. He had tried so hard never to let those ghosts touch Nima's bright world.

"I don't remember anything," he whispered, voice thick. " I don't know who our Mama is, or what she looked like. I don't have any memories before we came to the orphanage. My memory starts from the orphanage gate. I was holding you in my arms. How did we get to the gate? Who bought us? Or where did we come from? I don't remember anything."

The little silver boat floated high above the sleeping streets, and the night air was cool and clear. Below them, rows of street lamps formed neat strings of yellow and white dots, while above them the real stars shone like ice on black velvet. Nothing but a soft hiss of wind moved around the ship's smooth hull.

Kent sat beside Nima on the front bench. Auri, their newly awakened phoenix‑sparrow, perched on the rail behind them, his sunset‑red feathers glittering under the moon. Nima's tears still glimmered on her cheeks, and Kent gently wiped one away with the pad of his thumb.

"I'm sorry," he said in the quietest voice the wind would allow. "I wish I could give you some pictures of Mom and Dad. I really do."

Nima sniffed. "No memories at all?" she whispered. "Not even one tiny picture? A smell? A goodnight song?"

Kent shook his head. "I've tried. Every birthday, every New‑Year's firework, every time I asked myself to remember something. But when I dig, I find nothing at all—just a blank fog. It feels like someone took my memories away. Or I was born as a six year old. Only thing I remember is that you are my sister and you're born the same day."

"That feels unfair," she murmured. Auri skipped closer on the rail and nudged her elbow, chirping softly. "Don't cry Nima. I will acknowledge you as my big boss. Don't cry… I am alone too. We are all family. We got each other. Don't cry."

Nima managed a weak smile and scratched his feathers. "Thanks, little guy." A soft laugh bubbled from Nima's throat even while her eyes shone with new tears. "We got each other. We are a family. I know that. Yet…"

Below the flying boat a cargo drone zipped past with a blinking red light, and a floating billboard displayed the image of a happy octopus dancing over bowls of hotpot. The city's noises felt far away in their tiny pocket of sky.

Nima closed her fingers around making a fist. "Maybe we can find them," she said. "We have a flying boat now. We can go anywhere. If we find some clues we can find them and then why do they leave us?"

Kent let the idea roll in his mind before he answered. "Yeah," he said at last, nodding slowly. "Maybe we really can look for them. We have wheels in the sky now. We're not stuck in one city anymore."

Nima's eyes brightened just a little. "But … where would we start? The world is huge. Can we find them?"

Kent rubbed the back of his neck. "We start small. First we visit the old orphanage. Maybe the old manager kept a record we never saw. Then we check city offices. Birth papers, hospital books, anything that has our names."

Nima frowned. "What if those papers are gone?"

"Then we try other ways," Kent said. "Talk to people who were on duty that night. Ask in nearby towns. Follow any rumor. Even a tiny clue is worth something."

Auri hopped down between them, tail embers glowing. Chip! Chip! "And if that fails, I'll sniff them out myself like a fire hound. "

Kent grinned and stroked the Auri's neck feathers. "That's the spirit."

They sat in silence for a moment, the cool wind tugging at their hair. Below, the city turned slowly, rooftops sliding by like dark puzzle pieces. At last Kent spoke again, softer.

"Listen, Nima. Even if we never find them, remember this: you're not missing anything when it comes to being loved. You've got me. You've got Auri. You got Lumo and Raka. You even have that big, scary army of beasts waiting in my special place."

Nima sniffed, but a smile tugged her lips. "Yes, and they'll chew you if you ever try to find a little sister outside."

"Duly noted," Kent said, holding up both hands. "I only got one little sister, little princess, Nima."

Nima's hand crept toward him and squeezed. "Okay, Big Brother. Operation Find Mom and Dad starts tomorrow?"

Kent squeezed back. "Not tomorrow. First we have to get back to the metro city. Then we need to find the old manager. It will take some time. We will return to metro city After a good sleep and maybe five more snack breaks. Then I will think about everything."

"Five?"

"Fine, six."

She laughed for real then, a clear, ringing sound that floated into the night. Auri joined in with a happy trill. Kent's chest loosened. "Do you feel better?"

"Yeah," she said, wiping the last tear. "Still sad, but hopeful. Hope is good."

"Hope is great," he agreed. He looked ahead, it passed midnight. "Let's head back."