The travel through the Supersonic Way was so smooth that it barely registered as movement. There was no jolt, no sense of acceleration—only a faint pressure in Youri's chest and a subtle shift in light as the vacuum corridor carried the cabin forward at impossible speed. The hum of Terrian engineering surrounded them, steady and absolute, as if the laws of distance themselves had been politely dismissed.
Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it ended.
The cabin decelerated soundlessly, and the doors slid open.
What greeted Youri on the other side felt like stepping into an entirely different world.
He had arrived in Carcas.
The air itself felt alive—warmer, lighter, carrying faint traces of vegetation and city life. Unlike Mines, where existence unfolded beneath layers of metal and stone, Carcas breathed openly. Sunlight spilled freely across wide plazas and winding roads. People moved everywhere—on foot, in ground vehicles, on elevated rails—laughing, arguing, living in plain sight.
Buildings of all styles surrounded the station. Some were tall and sleek, others low and sprawling, their designs varied and expressive. Roads branched in countless directions, weaving a complex but organic network.
Barnaby stepped beside him and placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
"Welcome to Feleqo," he said. "Carcas's easternmost point."
Youri turned to him, still taking everything in. "So this is the place we were supposed to come to."
Barnaby smiled faintly. "Not yet."
He gestured forward. "There's one more place."
Youri frowned slightly. "More?"
"The center of the entire Terrian Empire," Barnaby continued. "The capital—Fansilia."
The name alone carried weight.
Youri had heard of Fansilia all his life. Stories, broadcasts, whispers of power and authority that flowed from the capital into every corner of Terrian space. It had always felt distant, unreachable—something meant for legends and rulers, not people like him.
Yet here he was.
A sleek car pulled up in front of them before he could voice another thought. The door opened, and an elderly man stepped out. He wore a perfectly tailored black suit and a dark hat pulled low. His posture was straight despite his age, movements deliberate and practiced. He looked to be in his mid-sixties, perhaps older, with sharp eyes that missed nothing.
He approached Barnaby and bowed slowly.
"Welcome back, Sir Fanrat."
Barnaby nodded. "Thank you for picking us up, Alfred."
Alfred opened the rear door, and both Barnaby and Youri stepped inside.
As the car began to move, Youri glanced sideways. "So… you have a butler."
Barnaby chuckled softly. "Is that a crime?"
Youri shook his head. "Just never pictured you with a servant."
Barnaby laughed again, deeper this time. "Kid, I've got servants all over the universe. You above all should know that."
Youri turned his gaze to the window as Feleqo slid past them. He did know who Barnaby was—what he represented, what he had done. And yet, somewhere along the way, something in him had begun to soften. Barnaby wasn't just the criminal mastermind the underground whispered about. He carried himself with a strange mix of ruthlessness and restraint, deception and honor.
Barnaby was a madman to most, a figure not to be crossed. He had clawed his way to power through crime and manipulation, but there were lines he never crossed. He never disgraced his own code.
And whenever he looked at Youri, it was as if he were staring at a reflection of his younger self.
A man who had once been powerless—and had sworn never to be again.
The drive to Fansilia was shorter than Youri expected. Gradually, the landscape shifted. The streets widened, traffic became quieter, more ordered. Then the capital revealed itself.
From afar, Fansilia appeared almost weightless.
Slender towers of blue crystal and silver alloy rose into the sky, tapering into fine needle-like points that caught the sunlight and scattered it across the horizon in radiant arcs. The city shimmered, not with excess, but with deliberate elegance.
At ground level, life moved with calm precision. Broad, curving avenues traced graceful arcs between districts, their surfaces smooth and faintly luminous. Rail systems glided silently above and below, while pedestrians moved without urgency, guided by a city that seemed designed to anticipate every need.
Gardens were woven into the very bones of Fansilia. Palms and bioluminescent flora glowed softly in teal and violet hues, casting cool light beneath the warm reflections of the towers overhead. Nature and architecture existed not in competition, but in harmony.
Youri was speechless.
And this was only part of it.
Alfred drove deeper into the city, eventually guiding the car toward the heart of the capital. Then, rising before them, stood the Royal Palace of Fansilia.
It stood apart from the city—and yet defined it.
The palace rose from a vast mirrored basin of water like a crown placed gently upon the earth. Where the city's towers spoke of ambition and order, the palace spoke of legacy. Its many spires curved inward and upward, slender and blade-like, converging toward the radiant sky.
Still canals encircled the structure, reflecting stone, light, and clouds in endless repetition. At dawn, the reflections softened into pale silver. By night, they deepened into pools of shadow pierced by amber fire.
The waters were not merely ornamental. They marked a boundary—a transition from the living pulse of the city to the sanctified calm of royal ground.
Just west of the palace lay another structure of equal importance.
The Royal Military Base of the Terrian Empire.
Alfred guided the car through reinforced gates and into the base grounds. Order replaced beauty here—clean lines, disciplined formations, soldiers moving. The vehicle came to a stop in front of the main headquarters.
Inside the car, Barnaby turned to Youri.
"This is it, kid," he said quietly. "This is the place we came for."
Youri met his gaze.
"From now on," Barnaby continued, "you'll be joining the military training academy here. If you manage to graduate as a pilot, I'll transfer you to my unit."
Youri's jaw tightened. "And that's the only way back to Volar."
Barnaby nodded. "The only way."
Silence stretched between them.
"So that's all the time I have," Youri said at last.
Barnaby didn't deny it.
Youri raised his hand.
Barnaby hesitated for a fraction of a second—then raised his own.
Their hands met in a firm clasp.
"I guess we'll see each other again in six months," Youri said.
Barnaby's expression hardened slightly. "That's if you manage to graduate."
Youri smiled—sharp, determined. "You can bet on that."
The door opened.
And with that, Youri Kronos stepped forward—away from the streets, away from the past, and into the heart of the Terrian Empire, where his next battle was only just beginning.