Five days had passed since Trafalgar last lost himself to sleep.
Now, he stood on the outer deck of the flying vessel, bare-chested despite the cold wind cutting across the open sky. His eyes were closed, breathing slow and controlled, mana flowing evenly through his core. Each inhale pulled energy inward. Each exhale refined it.
Below him, nothing but endless blue.
The Morgain territories were far behind them now. No mountains. No snow-covered land. Just the vast, unmoving ocean stretching to the horizon.
Trafalgar opened his eyes.
'It's quieter out here,' he thought.
Footsteps approached from behind, heavy and unhurried.
"We'll have to land."
Trafalgar turned his head slightly. Alfred stood near the railing, arms crossed, gaze fixed on the sea ahead.
"The engines need to rest for a few hours," Alfred continued. "We'll keep moving, just not flying."
Trafalgar frowned.
"…Land?" He glanced down at the ocean again. "On the water?"
Alfred shot him a look.
